194312 desert magazine 1943 december

8/14/2019 194312 Desert Magazine 1943 December

1/40

T H E

M A G A Z N Eif *

#

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 2 5 C E N T S


2/40

BIOGRAPHY SAYS WEST STILLROMANTIC BUT NOT SO WILDThe vast plains and rocky gorges ofColorado, Utah and Arizona long havefurnished the setting for stories of heroicdrama on the vanished American frontier.But to one man at least, the West of todayis just as romantic and colorfulbut notso wildand the life of a cowboy still isas exciting as yesterday's. This man, DavidLavender, in his informal biography,ONE MAN'S WEST, pictures with charmand humor a region where heroism andadventure are not things of the past.Lavender, as a young man, set out towin a fortune in the gold mines of Ouray,Colorado. From that beginning the recordof his travels and contacts with the Westis long and varied. In telling the story ofhis life as miner, rancher, cowboy andwanderer, the authentic flavor of plains,mountains and desert permeates his talesof modern pioneers, tall stories and humor-ous anecdotes. Lavender bring s vividly tolife the outposts of America and provesthat they have not been completely claimedfrom wilderness nor completely conqueredby modern civilization.Doubleday, Doran & Co., 1943. Line

drawings. 298 pp. $2.50.Aliton Marsh MEXICAN MAID TELLSOF HISTORIC TUCSONThe reminiscences of Atanacia SantaCruz, as told to Dr. Frank Lockwood,furnish many of the colorful and historicepisodes related in LIFE IN OLD TUC-SON1854 to 1864, published in 1943by Tucson Civic Committee.Atanacia, a little Mexican maid, livedher whole life in Tucson, from 1840 until1934. For Dr. Lockwood she recalled theexciting days following the Gadsden Pur-chase in 1854 and the "American occupa-tion of Tucson" by the courageous pio-neers who participated in the social andpolitical development of the town.Typical of these pioneers was CharlesD . Poston, who, although a cosmopolitanfigure identified with civic and social af-fairs in Washington, D. C. and the Orient,did much to further the civic interests ofArizona.Poston arrived in Tucson in 1856 to or-ganize an exploring and mining company.He stayed until the spring of 1861, at theopening of the Civil War when UnitedStates troops were ordered out of the terri-tory. A period of lawlessness and terro r,

during which many of his associates wererobbed and murdered by Apaches andMexican bandits, caused him to flee to thePacific coast. From th ere he sailed to theAtlantic coast, spending the next year inWashington attempting to bring about theestablishment of civil government in Ari-

zona. His m ission was successful, the ter-ritory was organized and Poston was ap-pointed Superintendent of Indian Affairs.He later became the first man to representArizona in Congress.Samuel Hughes was another of the earlyarrivals in Tucson whose life was full ofaction and romance. It is said that " it wasHughes' distinction to be the first man

who came to Tucson for his health." Fiveyears after his arrival in 1858 he marriedAtanacia. He became one of Tucson's bestknown citizens, and did much to furthercivic interests such as churches, schools andfraternal organizations. Ward RitchiePress, Los Angeles. 255 pp . 13 illus.Evonne Henderson

DISTINGUISHED BOO KS FOR SPECIAL GIFTS . . .C E R E M O N I A L C O S T U M E S O F T H EPUEB LO INDIANS, R oed iger . Evo lu t ion ,design, significance in prayer-dramas ofHopi , Zuni and Rio Grande t r ibes . Superblyillus. from author's paintings of costumes,turquoise dance moccasins, headdresses,masks. 40 plates full color, 25 figuresblack-and-white, colored map. Notes , ap-pen. , bibl io. , 268 pp. 7 % x ll $15.00A N C I E N T L I F E I N T H E A M E R I C A NSOUTHW EST, Hewet t . Archaeo log i s t s 'fascinating story of prehistoric Indian lifein Southwest. History recreated with im-agination of artist and authority of a scien-tist. Many illus. , endmaps. 392 pp. Limitednum ber copies $5.00M E S A C A N Y O N A N D P U E B L O , L u m m i s .Classic desert volume to take down fromyour bookshelf year after year. Land, cus-toms and occupations of Southwest Indians.Many photos , map . 517 pp $5.00I N D I A N B L A N K E T S A N D T H E I R M A K -ERS, James . Navajo and Pueblo weav ing ar t .Types, development, technique, historicalbackground. De Luxe edi t ion, 7V2XIOI4,64 illus. , 32 color plates. 213 pp.Boxed $3.00

MY ADVENTUR ES IN ZUNI , C us h ing .Limited ed. of distinguished scientist 's ex-periences in Zuni. Beautifully illus. in linedrawings and hand-colored marginal paint-ings. 8x9 in. Limited edition $7.50THE RAIN-MAKERS, Coolidge. Absorb-ing story of Southwest Indian civilization.Comprehensive, scientific, vivid. History,social life, arts and ceremonials, mythology.Photos, endm aps, index. 326 pp $4.00A P A C H E G O L D A N D Y A Q U I S I L V E R ,Dobie. Allur ing los t mine and bur ied t reas-ure tales by a master story-teller. Beautifulcolor plates and black-and-whites by TomLea. 336 pp $3.50SOUTHW EST, Laura Adams Armer . Sub-jective record of author's experiences inSouthwest. Color and mystery, wisdom andlegend of Indian country. Story of her homeat Waterless Mountain and Indian charac-ters in her various books. Paintings by au-thor. 224 pp $3.00THE DESERT, Van Dyke. Class ic neverequaled for description of mystery and colorof desert. Southern California, Arizona andSonora. Photo s, 257 pp $3.00

DESERT CRAF TS636 ST AT E ST R E E T S H O PE L C E N T R O , C A L I F O R N I AT HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


3/40


4/40

IZu tU* .

Monument Valley, Utah. Photo by G. E. Barrett.DWELLERS IN THE SHADOWSBy EDYTHE HOPE GENEEHollywood, CaliforniaGrey shadows creep across the mountain-sweepof rock and sand,Encircling tiny dwellers close in their embrace;Forever in the shadows, where no errant traceOf sun can ever cross their path in all this lonelyland.

Tiny stem and flower, unknown to all but Godalone,Patterned by the smoke tree's needled plume,the whiteOf sage protesting to the sunonly the shineOf a million desert stars to beckon and to calltheir own.Burn, desert sun, down the highest mountain'sgolden bars!Blow, desert wind, across a lonely waitingheart!For we who dwell in shadows, know a counter-partOf sun and wind and beauty that transcends

the stars!ARIZONA DUSK

By S/SGT. MARCUS Z. LYTLESan Diego, CaliforniaGloaming of purple simmers on the cliffsBurnt to dead cinder like a Yaqui pyre;On the bronze sky, Amole's darkened tooth,Jagged and broken, chills the sun's low fire.Here I would gather blue between new starsStabbing their javelins among hot cloud,Gather before the cirrus cools to ashSpun over summits where saguaros crowd.Wind dry as cedar, thin as lonely space,Unseal my ears that I may know each tonePressed from the lips of bending grama grassShadowed in moonrise on the desert stone.

NEW MEXICO MORNINGBy JANE BLACKBURNSanta Monica, CaliforniaI saddled old Feathers at the edge of the butte,He shied at the saddle and kicked at my boot,Reared when I touched him, snorted at the sandBut I mounted him as gently as a top cow-hand.And I rode that pony to the crest of the hill,Rode him alone when the wind cut chill,Stayed with him proudly, held the reins highAlone on a hilltop, Feathers and I.We started at the dawn and grinned at thebreeze,I whistled a song to the cottonwood trees,Brandished my hat at the whitening skyAnd we rode back in splendor, Feathers and I!

WHITE HOLLYBy MARY PERDEWSanta Ana, CaliforniaWhite holly decks the canyonsWhen desert winds are chill.Each spray is flecked with star duslUpon its rock-strewn hill.White holly wreaths at ChristmasAre misty moonlit grey.They add a touch of magicTo that glad holiday.But on the grim old desertWhite holly is at home.It shines in that weird settingLike drifts of wind-tossed foam.I'll decorate with pine tipsWith cheery ribbon frills,And leave the desert hollyTo bloom upon the hills. DESERT LONGINGS

By CORA C. WILLIAMSAlamosa, ColoradoMojave, I will come back to you some dayAnd in your arms forget I ever went away.Forget I ever wandered from your desert wild,A wayward and an oft rebellious child.Oh, could I see the moon with silver spillA flood of light that covers vale and hill,Could I behold the Joshua trees so grey withageIt would the longing of my soul assuage.Mojave, I would lay my body on your breast.Forget the weary war-torn years, and rest,And live again those happy hours free.I fear my heart would break with ecstacy!Oh, desert old, so long the separation seems,While I must find a solace in sweet dreams.. THE TALL WATCHERSBy LUELLA BENDER CARRProctor, MinnesotaThe great saguaros wait with arms upraisedHere on a vast and cactus covered plain.As if on guard, they seem to watch amazedThe traffic passing through their queer domain.Two hundred years they've lived here . . . guard-ed wellThis hot and lonely Arizona landW hile history unrolled. If they could tellWh at thrilling tales we'd hear. How once abandOf Indians attacked white travelersEnroute by covered wagon. Or they slewTheir own kind in sly raids. Saguaros wereOn watch when tracks were laid . . . first trainspassed through.With majesty the great saguaros standAnd guard eternally their sun-drenched land.

By LESLIE RODGEROld Forge, New YorkFor ages now these ancient peaksHave raised their crests against the sky;Pensive, mute, in silent watchThey look across the burning sandsWhere glimmering shadows fall and drift,And note the slowly passing yearsMonarchs of a long lost pastAnd witness to the ages gone.Now, like the holy priests of old,With turbaned fog about their brow,They stand to offer sacrificeOn unseen altars builded there.How small our greatest efforts seem!How slow our waiting, faltering steps.As aeons of the years that wereLook down upon us standing there!A pillar high of cloud by dayThey stand to point forgotten paths;While golden stars, a band by night,Encircle wide each lofty brow.Spread now thy healing lasting calmAcross each earnest upturned face,And fill our yearning suppliant heartsWith thy serene abiding peace.

FEELING FOR BEAUTYBy T5 DALE E. WINN, U.S.A.AustraliaI ain't the guy what learned from booksWhat beauty is nor how it looks;Me and artists ain't no kin at all,My best writin's jest a scrawl;But I got a feelin' I'd like to tellIf you hear me out for jest a spell

It's a feelin' comes in the early dawnWhen the day ain't come but the night is gone,Whe n the desert hills're black as nightBut the sky beyond's all rosy bright,And somethin' whispers, "The world's allright."

It's a feelin' comes at the high of noonWhen the heat swells up from the white sanddune,When the ridge is hard against the sky,And the sun's white-hot where it burns on high,And the air is parched and still and dry.It's a feelin' comes with the settin' sunWhen the shadows sprawl and the day is done,When the gold you sought in the rocks all daySpills over the hills in the sun's last ray,And the wind goes mournful along its way.It's a feelin' comes in the dead of nightWhen the fire dies down but the stars're bright,When the tiny critters come out to prowl,And a lone coyote gives a lonely howlAnd you hear the cry of a huntin' owl.I ain't the guy what learned from booksWhat beauty is nor how it looks;But where other folks can paint or tell,I got a feelin' that serves as well.

CREED OF THE DESERTBy JUNE LEMERT PAXTONYucca Valley, California

The desert moon is growing thin,I see her eyes set deep;Methinks she broods o'er a troubledworld,And for our grief, may weep.

T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


5/40

The Navajo singer, when asked where his ancestors had em erged jrom the Un derworldto the Visible World, always would look into the north toward the blue haze that markedthe southern Rockies, and answer evasively, "Mayb e it's up there somew here?"Photo by Randall Henderson.

" T ke W alked U p 'Tltete"In the beg innin g there w as nothing. There was no l ight , no ve geta-t ion, nor l iv ing thing . . ." Thus did the M ountain .Cha nt Singer begin thestory of Nav ajo crea t ion. Reluc tant ly ha d he be gu n unfolding the sacre dwordswords which but a few of the oldest hathl i , or s ingers now re-me mb er. The two me n one a m em ber of the U. S. India n Service at FortDefiance, Arizona, and the other a grizzled Navajo chant s inger, had beenwatching the last golden glints fade from the 14,000-foot peaks of theSier ra La Pla ta in sou thern Colo rado . "The gods walke d up there , " thehathl i had murmured. But not unt i l four fros ts had passed had the s ingerbe en r ea dy to relate the s tory of his ances tors , from the t im e of Creat ion inthe Underworld unt i l the t ime of their Emergence at Hadj ina, a sacred lakefar up am on g the pe ak s on whic h they had g aze d. Here is the story as itw as to ld to Va n Valkenb urgh a t the chan ter ' s com ma nd to "Get yourwri t ing s t ick. L et 's get the s tory of Hadj ina dow n on pa pe r. M ake copies

for my son, his sons , and then their sons ."By RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGHMurals in tempera by the Navajo, Van Sinaj inih

" 7 / E ' I I D I NE 'E B IK EG O! The(J gods walked up there!"J Dzilkedji hathli, the MountainChant Singer, murmured as he watched theshades of night blot out the last goldentints of sunset on the 14,000-foot peaks ofthe Sierra La Plata in southern Colorado."La! This is Digin bitxa, the old HolyLand of the Navajo. For it is up there

deep in these northern sacred mountainsof Dibetsa, the Mountain Sheep Range,that lies Hadjina, the Place of Emergence.In my youth I made a Pilgrimage up therewith my kinsman Bahazhun who was thegreatest of all hathli."Hadjina! The Nirvana of the Navajo.In all important rite-myths I had heard ofthis sacred place. But when I questioned

the hathli, they always looked into thenorth toward the blue haze that markedthe southern Rockies as they answered,"Hola? Maybe it's up there somewhere?""What's it like up there, Grandfather?"I asked."It's right on top. Four peaks ofthe banded grey and tan of hadaho-ndyet (ara gon ite), the 'mirage stone' piercethe cloud layers to enter the upper heaven.Inside of these are four peaks the color oftselichii, the garnet. In the center there isa lake of dotlizhi of deepest turquoise. Andin the center of all there is a cone-shapedisland of bazhini, or black jet."La! It was through this beautiful placethat the Digin dine'e, our divine ancestorscame into this world. It was from herethat everything started. All good and evilstarted up there. Today, few Navajo darego to Hadjina. For the ancient talismen forprotection against the Spirit People areknown by only a few old men."When on the next morning we reachedDurango on the Rio de las Animas, Icasually suggested that we turn north intothe mountains on the Silverton road. Dzil-kedji hathli smiled as he firmly objected,"Data! Curious Bilakana. W e won't go toD E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3


6/40

"In the be ginning there was nothing. Only First Man and First Wom an had life.In the Black Underw orld they took earth and created Black Ant. Being the first hu-man created he led the other people upw ard from darkness into light by prayer . . ."Hadjina now. For that's what you're upto."Notin g my grousy reaction he added, "Itwill be a long time before we can go upthereeven talk any more about it. First,there will have to be four frosts. Thenafter the snakes, bears, lightning andwhirlwinds have gone to sleep, I will tellyou of the place where the gods w alk."I saw nothing of Dzilkedji hathli duringthe weeks that followed our return to FortDefiance in Navajoland. The cottonwoodsturned to yellow. Then the "small winds"rustled down Tsihotso and plucked awaytheir leafy dress. One cold morning whenBonito creek turned from a gay littlestream to a sluggish trickle, forcing herway through the ice cap edging out fromthe banks, the old hathli pitpatted into mystudy.After kowai the old man spread hisblanket on the cot that stood in the corner.When stretched out, his voice came fromthe darkness, "Get your 'writing stick.'Let's get the story of Hadjina down onpaper. Make copies for my son, his sons,and then their sons!"

Thus Dzilkedji hathli told the story ofNavajo creation:"Djini. They told this."In the beginning there was nothing.There was no light, no vegetation, nor liv-ing thing. In the deep silence of Saadlhai,This episode depicts the pre-lude to the Navajo version of theGrea t F lood. T he pan e l show sC oyo t e wa d i ng i n t o C ha b i ke ho ,flie Right-Whirling Pool, to stealthe Water Babies. In the back-groun d t h e W a te r Mons te r

wa t c he s .

the Black Underworld, all was void.Only Atse Hastin, the First Man, andAtse Asdzaan, the First Woman, had life."In this Black Underworld the FirstOnes toiled. W ith earth they createdWolazhin, the Black A nt. Alone he m ovedin the jetty darkness. In time he came to apool of water just the size of his body.Swelling, it grew in size until it filled thevault."On the crest of the rising water Wola-

zhin was carried upw ard. Soon he touchedthe hard ceiling of the dahunka or vault.

The beginning of Navdjo cre-a t ion , a s conce ived by the Nav-ajo artist V an Sinajinih. Thispanel shows First Man and FirstW om an c rea t ing Black Ant in theBlack Underworld. Above thisworld i s the c rus t which sepa ra tesit from the dim blue world thathad the blue of "water befored a w n . "For twelve days he dug upward. Then hebroke through into the dim light of Saad-naki, the Blue World that was the blue ofwater before dawn."In time he found Woldchi, the RedAnt. They called each other brother . Soonthe flood reached them. Floating upwardthey reached the ceiling of the B lue Wo rld.For 12 days they took turns digging up-ward. On the last day they reached thedim light of Saadtxa, the Yellow World.

"In the dim light that was the yellow oftwilight they saw other people. From theeast a great river flowed through the cen-ter of the world to be swallowed in theCave of the West. Tow ering above allwere four sacred mountains that markedthe outer edges of the world. Upon thesedwelt Hasjelte, the Talking God, andHasjahogan, the House God."Then First Man's voice filled theworld, 'My children! Your mother madeyou all. W e made the Ant people, the Lo-cust People, the Snake People, the YuccaPeople, the Cacti People, the Fly People,the Spider People,Nik'e'ni, the BeautifulOwl, Mdidotlizh, the Blue Fox, the birds,

and all the beasts.'"Then First Woman spoke, 'You were"While snooping around, Coyote found the W ater Babies of the W ater Monster.His g reed overcame his wisdom as he stole the babies, wrapping them in the ragsof the Black God of Poverty and hiding them in the reeds. For this the WaterMonster caused the world to be Hooded . . ."

- : ' ; ' . . . . .

m' ' . ' . ' >


7/40

ilili

. -

"Black Ant, rising from the jet darkness of the Black Underworld, broke through tothe dim light of the Blue World. There he found Red Ant. They calledeach other brother . . ."

created to populate the world that is com-ing. As you take human form, you shallgain reason and wisdom. By being ourfirst born, Wolazhin, the Black Ant, shalllead you. He shall guide you upward fromdarkness into light by the word of prayer.'"Then the people built homes. Wola-zhin built the hogan dotozhi, the peakedhome. Wolachi, the Red Ant, built thehogan dakahanzhi, the rounded home. To-day's hogan alchi'desa'i, the forked stick

speaking-in-peace hogans. In them thepeople held their first council. After along talk about Wolf Woman and Moun-tain Lion, they reached no agreement. Itwas then that they found they lacked wis-dom. So they sent Mdii, the Coyote toFirst Man."Mdii came back with First Man 's mes-sage, 'It's in your handsin your minds.Find it there!'"So the headmen went to Talking Godhogan represents the first hogan built by who had wisdom. Taking earth from theWolazhin. And our hogan -yddakahanzhi, sides of each of the four sacred mountainsthe rounded top hogan, was copied fromthat built by Wolachi.

"After this the gods began to makerules. First they taught the people how tolive in a peaceful way. After th is theytaught them how to plant corn and otherseeds that make food. After this they wereshown how to play such games as bouncingsticks, dice, hoop and pole, and football."Soon the peace was broken. WolfWom an made love to Mountain Lion. Thepeople sought to settle this. Four hogans

were built in the center of the world. ThenWolf, Mountain Lion, Coyote, and Badgerwere chosen to dwell in them. These werethe first natani or headmen."These hogans were called Nataa hogan,

In this panel Van shows WolfWoman, who became the f i rs t ofthe wi tches , l eading the womenback across the river to the men.In the crossing she and twelve ofhe r fo l lowers a re sucked downby the Wate r Mons te r and ca r-ried to his home in the Waters ofthe West .D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3

he laid it on their bodies as he prayed:'For Wolf, White Wisdom of the East,For Mountain Lion, Blue Wisdom ofthe South,

In this panel the art is t showsthe meeting of Black Ant and RedAnt in the Blue Underworld. Be-low is the hole up through whichBlack Ant dug into the Blue Un-derworld from the Black Under-world.For Coyote, Yellow Wisdom of theWestAnd for Badger, Black Wisdom of theNorth."

"Then the headmen carried their wis-dom back to the people. For some timethere was peace and happiness. To breakthis the headmen themselves killed sacredanimals belonging to the gods. The holyones were angered. For this was stealing.Nor had the people been taught in theceremonial way to kill and skin animals."Then Coyote made love to Wolf Wo-man. But she said 'D ota! Th e gods madeyou headman. No w you try to break thelaw. When a headman does this, the peo-ple expect to do the same. Then everyonewill get into trouble again!'"Frisking around, Coyote answered,"Why even today we headmen broke thelaw. W e killed sacred deer and other ani-mals. The gods did nothing. W e brokeone law. W hat's the difference if we breakanother?'"Coyote's smooth talk persuaded WolfWoman. This was not hard to do. Forshe had no sense of family or clan. Eventoday there are women like herthey keepno law. They just hang around tradingposts or run around camps making troublebetween m en and their wives."When this was discovered Wolf calleda council. Angrily he accused Wolf Wo -man, 'You have been unfaithful again. If

"After four years of separation Wolf Wom an leads the wom en back to the men . . .'


8/40

"To help the people First Man built the first hogan. Bending rainbows he formedthe main beam s. Under the east he placed white shell, under the south he laid downturquoise, in the west he placed abalone, and in the north he laid down jet . . ."we all did this everyone would be mixedup . Again, you have broken the rules ofthe gods!'"Wolf Woman growled, 'Why shouldwomen be faithful? Men are always run-ning around. W e do all the work. W e cantake better care of ourselves without you!'

"It was then decided that the men andwomen should separate. Wolf Woman ledthe women to dwell on the south side ofthe river. Th e men remained on the northside. Everyone agreed that this was wis-dom. They would see who could be mostsuccessfulthe men or the women."Both sides worked hard. W hile themen prospered the women suffered andknew privation. Four years passed. FinallyWolf Woman had to agree to return thewomen to the men. W ith 12 women sheIn the lower vault is the Black Under-

world. In the vault above is the Blue Un-derworld devoid o\ all things. Above is theYellow Underw orld with the four hogansof the first headmen. The stepped-up tri-angle leading to the roof of the vault toHadjina, Place of Emergenc e, representsthe mountains and the flutes throughwhich the Navajo emerged. Across the topof this world is the streak of water whichrepresents the flood. On top, and in thedim White World, sits Coyote. The artisthas gone further than the story as told inthis issue of DESERT in that he shows bythe sun symbol and vegetation that theVisible White World h as been created.This section of the Navajo Genesis will betold in a later issue.

started to cross the river. When theyreached the m iddle, Ti'holtsodi, the WaterMonster, pulled them down."As they were carried into the Cave ofthe West, Wolf Woman called back,'There will always be wrong. There willbe death!'"Happily the rest of the women safelyreturned to the men. Together husbandand wife dwelt in hogans. W ith their chil-dren they kept the laws and lived in peace.To help them the gods sent the FlutePlayers. Some medicine men call themadeschinih, the Gourd Ch ildren. The di-vine sons of At'ed Digin, Holy Girl, theybrought good to the people.

"In this time of peace the people learnedmany things. Labor was divided betweenthe men and women. Purification waslearned by the use of the tache or sweat-house. Herbs were found to be remediesfor disease, poison and evil spirits. Th efirst song-prayers and 'medicine' started atthis time. And to keep the Navajo strongand healthy the clans were formed of un-related p eople.

"Wolf Woman joined the family ofTi'holtsodi. W ith her evil ways she becamethe first witch and th e Keeper of the D eath


9/40

Vault. W ith this power she laid a trap forthe people. Taking cuticle from her breastsshe formed two perfect babies. Then sheplaced them in Chabikeho the first right-whirling pool.While snooping around Coyote foundthe babies. Run ning back to camp he brag-ged of what he had found. The headm enwarned him, 'Keep away from thosebabies.' But every day he sneaked away andcoveted the babies. On the fourth day hisgreed overcame his wisdom. Wading intothe pool he grabbed the babies. W rap pingthem in the rags of Hashkejinni, the BlackGod of Poverty, he hid them in the reeds."On the next day a great silence filledthe world. Frightened , the headmen hur-ried to Chabikeho. An angry foam swirledaround the surging pool. On the secondday whirlwinds howled overhead. On thesixth day sacred birds flew overhead andcroaked, 'Beware!'"From every direction great grey wallsrose. Coyote was sent ou t to see what theywere. Running back with his tail straightout he cried, 'It's a great wall of watermoving in on us!' Then the headman wentto see. Moving toward them was a greatflood of water tipped with white foam!"Everyone hurried to climb the sacredmountains. When they reached the top thewater was right behind them. Hurry ing

Dzilkedjih Hathli, the Medicine Man.In time o f the crusted snow he toldthe story of Navajo Creation.Photo by the author.

they tried every kind of mag ic. The lizardstried, the squirrels tried, and the fowltried, but the water still rose. Today, onecan see the marks of the foam on the tail ofTazhi, the Turkey.

"Not wishing to have all his childrendrowned, First Man brought his magic.Slowly the m ountains began to grow. Fromthe peaks of the east and west there rosetwo great pillars of stone. W ith the peoplecrowded on top they finally came to a stopin the yellow heavens."Then Koz, the C rane, dove to the baseof the sacred m ountains. Bringing up earthhe laid down a pile on each pillar. Thenthe Gourd Children took their four-holedflutes. W ith prayer they placed them up-right in the piles of sacred earth."By magic the people separated accord-ing to color. Those with light brown skinswent into the flute of the east. Those withthe dark brown skin entered the reed onthe west. Then the reeds began to growtowards the ceiling of the Yellow World."For 12 days the reeds grew. On thelast day they touched the ceiling of theworld. Looking down the people saw thatthe water still was rising. Dig ging as fastas they could Badger and other burrowinganimals dug upward. On the fourth daythey dug through to a small island. Inevery direction endless waters covered thenew world."In the pale light of Saadeen, the DimWhite World, the people peeked out. Likea great black cloud Chiztelki, the Monster,came towards them . In his claws were two

Hadjina, Place of Emergence. /Most holy of Navajo shrines, known by the white m enas Island Lake, in the Ice Lake region high in La Plata mountains about eight m iles west ofSHverton, Colorado. So sacred that few Navajo ever have seen the place so often mentionedin their rite-myths. Photo by H. L. Standley , Colorado Springs, Colo.

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3


10/40

magic killing arrows. Woneschindi, theLocust, went out to meet him. Cbiztelkifletched his arrows."They glanced off Locust's unblinkingeyes. Then Chiztelki challenged Locust toimpale himself w ith arrows. Easily Locustdid this. Then he ran them in from side toside. By this Chiztelki knew that Locusthad greater power than he. Fleeing, hewas never seen again. Thu s Locust, whotoday shows the holes in his sides, won theright for the people to enter this world."Then the Insect People went out on thewater and played. As they could not swim,the animals started to worry. The n theyprayed. Finally, Ganskidi, the Water

Pourer, came to help. W ith his great hornhe scooped out great furrows in the earth.Slowly the water drained off. Today , onecan see these furrows at the Canyon deChelly and other deep canyons in Navajo-land."Then the Wind People brought warmwinds to dry off the mud. Soon the peoplestarted to move southward. Those withthe dark brown skins separated from them.In time they divided among themselves tobuild stone houses on the Rio Gra nde riverand on the Moqui mesas. Today, we callthese people the Kinsani, or Old HousePeople."Coyote ran back to take one last look

S O L I L O Q U I E S O FDra wi ng by F ra nk Ada m s

P R O S P E C T O RText by Dick Adams

NUGGETS GLEAM ING YE LL O WI PINO ''REMAINING IN TH E PANPRECIOUS SH ININ G FRUITS OF LABORWHEN iV E WA SH& D AWAY THE SAND . LIFE HAS BROUGHT ME MANY FRIENDSHIPSBUT WHEN THE SANDS I TOOK FROM TH ESEFEW REMAINED - BUT THO SE REMAININGARE GOLDEN IN MY MEMORIES "

at the hole from whence they emerged.Hurrying back he told the people that theflood still was following them. Then theheadmen searched him for the babies. Hedid not have them. Then they searchedeveryone. Finally they came to Black God.Hidden in his rags were the babies!"Th e voice of Ti'holtsodi rumbled from

the hole, 'W e punished you for stealing ourbabies. We caused the great flood thatdrove you from your home in the Under-world. For thisyou shall always knowfear. Wit h go od there shall always beevil!'"The headmen hurried to lay the babiesbetween the horns of the Monster. As hesank back downward he called, 'One wo-man has looked dow n this hole. She willnever return to you. For she is dead! Neveragain look down into this place fromwhence you came into ligh t from darkness.Forif you do, you shall return forever tothe home of the Wolf Woman which isthe Land of the Dead!'"La! This is how we Dine came into thisworld through the hole we call Hadjina.What happened in this Visible World isanother story. As I told you on the Rio delas Animas, in my youth I made my oneand only trip to this most holy of Navajoshrines. For even todaythe Gods walkup there!"Dzilkedji hathM's story of N avajo originbrought considerable reflection. W here didthe Navajo obtain their flood concept? Didthis evolvement from darkness into lighthave some bearing on the original Navajohomeland in Asia? Was this an embellish-ed and symbolic story of the long trek fromthe sunless tundras of Siberia to the sun-light home in the Am erican Southwest?Sometime later that winter I was read-ing my Denver Post. In the rotogravuresection I came upon a striking scenic viewcaptioned ISLAND LAKE, LA PLATAMOUNTAINS, SOUTHERN COLO-RADO. Nestling in the midst of fourtowering peaks there w as a small lake. Andin the center of the lake there was a conicalislet!Writing the photographer, H. L. Stand-ley of Colorado Springs, I awaited hisanswer. It promptly came, "Island Lakeis located some eight miles west of Silver-ton, Colorado. It is one of the several lakesin the Ice Lake region and is just south ofU. S. Grant Peak in San Juan County."Anxiously I awaited the next visit ofDzilkedji hathli. In the time of the"eaglets" of Bilakana February, he camein. Taking the print sent me by Mr. Stand-ley, I laid it before the old "singe r." Fora moment he dead-panned. Then lookingat me with a smile, said, "You Bilakana

have a magic way of finding out things.This is Hadjina!"10 T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


11/40

.

"Four hundred feet straight up in front o f us reared the cliffs of the rock of Acoma ."New Mexico State Tourist Bureau photo.

@kti5tma5 "TtalL to theTrying to ascend Acoma by the rock trail had been Abigail's ideaand now she was spread out in that prehistoric chimney like a scientist'sbug on a pin. She and Dorothy backed down, then again attacked theforbidding precipice of the Sky Citythis time by the unromantic horsetrail up which they ploughed knee-deep in sand. At the top a shawl-wrap ped little girl materialized from behind an orange-colored butte. Shew as shy a nd a b ig front tooth was missing in her smilebut her me ssagew as open se sam e to an Indian Christmas on the ancient rock of A coma.

By DO ROT HY L. PILLSBURY" ~i HIS is no place for two lone,/ middle-aged wom en," Abigailsaid, looking back wistfully atour decrepit Fordcito parked where theroad ended in a welter of rocks. It wasChristmas Day and we were alone on theNew Mexican desert, 20 arroyo-dipping,dubious miles from the highway.Four hundred feet straight up in front ofus reared the beetling cliffs of the rock ofAcoma. By tilting our necks back to thebreaking p oint we could see the sun-glazedadobe houses where our Indian friends,

Ana, Marta and Elena lived. We hadvisited them many times before, but thisChristmas expedition was by very specialinvitation. "W e'll be the only white folksthere," worried Abigail. "Do you thinkwe'll fit into an Indian Christmas?"The wind was cat-calling across the bar-ren sand-drifted wasteland. Clouds scud-ding over the bright blue New Mexicansky kept blotting out the sun. The shiftingcloud shadows and the sand in the airmade everything look out of proportionand unreal."Let's not go up the way we always do,by the sand trail," rebelled Abigail, over-come by the unusualness of the occasion.

"I've always wanted to try the rock trail.It's the one the Acomans use. If Ana,Marta and Elena can prance up it with ababy on the back and a water olla on thehead, we should be able to crawl it."Climbing the rock trail was like scaling a400-foot chimney flue. It was a crevice inthe solid rock with toe and handholdsworn slick and smooth by hundreds ofyears of Indian com ing and going. I hadmy doubts, but Abigail started out like arocket. "Remem ber your vertigo ," I warn-ed, but my voice was lost in the gibberingof the wind.As my feet felt for hollowed out foot-holds, I thought of the other feet whichhad done the same thingSpanish con-quistadores, brown-robed Franciscans andmara uding Apaches. On top of the rock,the Acomans 400 years ago had crouchedand watched crested Coronado pass closeby in his search for the seven golden citiesof Cibola.Then I heard a scream. It was Abigail."I'm stuck," she cried above the howlingof the wind. "I can't go ahead and I can'tback down."There she was in her expensive tweedwalking skirt, smart sweater and Knox hat,

(2ityspread out in that pre-historic chimney likea scientist's bug on a pin. By ordering herto shut her eyes and by guiding first onefoot and then the other by main force, Ifinally managed to get her backed downwhere we started from.

Defeated in a romantic approach to theSky City, we ploughed knee deep in sandup the old familiar horse trail. Almost atthe very top, a shawl-wrapped little girlmaterialized like a ghost from behind anorange-colored b utte. She was shy and abig front tooth was missing in her smile,but we gathered we were to go first toAna 's house. That was bad because Analived in a skyey penthouse three stories upfrom bedrock. W e always had done ourvisiting in Marta's lower stratum home.

Down the uneven rocky street, betweenthe tierred Indian apartment houses wewent with the wind trying to use us forkites. Little boys popp ed out of ancientdoorways to follow us as if we were somekind of Christmas Pied Pipers. Mangeydogs followed the little boys. A lop-earedburrito joined the procession and a viciouslooking billy goat brought up the rear.The houses set in long rows like giants'steps. Th e roofs of the lower stories wereused for the porches of the second and theroofs of the second for the porches of thethird. A rough ladder led from the groundto the second layer of houses, and narrowfar-apart steps cut in the adobe led fromthe second to the third. Ana, swathed tothe eyebrows in a scarlet and orange shawlsmiled at us from the third story doorway."Maybe," I hissed to Abigail, "you can

make it going up if you take it fast, butD E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 11


12/40

i

Rough

-litladders lead from the ground to second story.

r^^^A f

KMHIyyiiiKHH

W

mW k

Tourist Bureau photo.

I

' ' ' : . . -

Homy sights and sounds. NewMexico Tourist Bureau photo.how will youever get down? Rememberyour vertigo!""I w on't," she croaked insheer despera-tion, sailing up the rickety ladder. "I'llhave tospend the rest ofmy life uptherejoin thepueblo, I guess."

Ana's b rilliant shawl almost covered herHollywood style near-silk d ress. For com-fort's sake she was wearing her w hite buck-skin botas which made her feet look thesize of a doll's. She haddecorated herselflike awalking Christmas tree with all her

jewelry. There were a dozen bracelets ofheavy hand-wrought silver set with tur-quoise, a silver rosary of bighollow beadswith an enormous turquoise cross, stringsof coral and oldwampum, earrings of tur-quoise beads strung in a loop andmanysilver rings piled to the first joint of hersmall brown fingers.Ana's ancient penthouse, like herself,showed the encroachment of modernAmerica. In place of the tiny adobe fire-place was anold-fashioned iron cook stove.In place of the pile of sheepskins andmantas on the floor were hideous brassbeds. In place of the family tinajas forcommunal mealtimes on the floor, weretables with oilcloth tops. There was evenan 1880 sewing machine.Despite modern inventions, the placehad an atmosphere of old forgotten days.It was in the strands of scarlet chile hang-ing from the age-blackened vigas againstwhitewashed walls. Itwas in the pungentsmell of burning pinyon wood. It was inthe fragrance of fresh crisp bread stillwarm from the outside estufa. Itwas in thewafer-thin ceremonial piki made from thesacred blue corn."W e go now to Marta's house," Anadirected. "Marta she have surprise foryou."Marta did have a surprise forus . Itwasa babythe loveliest baby I ever had seen.Its skin wasgolden biscuit color and itsamazing shock of long black hair was likea little black rabb it's. She was on a cradleboard, but theboard was soft with amod-ern pillow."What are you going tocall her?" askedAbigail."What you think good name?" ques-tioned Marta, ignoring the breach in In-dian etiquette by our inqu iring into names."Rosemary," answered Abigail. "Rosebecause she is one, andMary for Christ-mas."There were nods and smiles ofapproval."You Catholic?" asked Marta. We had tosay no and to this day wegrieve over the


13/40

thought that we might have been god-mothers to an Indian baby on the rock ofAcoma.All the time we were talking there hadcome to our ears the weird, rhythmic, in-cessant beat of the tombe from the sacredkiva. Ana and Elena hurried away to dontheir ceremonial clothes. Marta wrappedherself and Rosemary in a gorgeous shawland led the way to the church.W ha t a place it was for a Christmas cele-bration! Its 10-foot thick walls datingfrom 1700, soared 60 feet above us. Ceil-ing vigas 40 feet long and 14 inchesthrough supported the roof. Between thevigas were yucca stalks colored blue andred and yellow laid in herringbone pattern.The few backless benches had been pushedagainst the wall. Th e altar was dark andlifeless.The wail of the tombe came nearer. Thedancers filed in two by two. W e hardlyrecognized Ana and Elena with the brightcrimson circles painted on their cheeks.They m ade a kaleidoscope of color in theirnative ceremonial clothingshort fringedskirts, gay back kerchiefs, gorgeous calicosleeves, snowy boots and a profusion ofbarbaric jewelry.The dance gained in tempo to therhythm of the drums, the rattle gourds andthe resonant chant of a letter-perfectchorus. The m en did most of the dancing.The women simply kept the rhythm withtheir feet and went through intricate mo-tions with their hands and arms. Eachhand held a sprig of evergreen. Each mo-tion, each gesture had a deep religious sig-nificance.

Perched up under the sky on the rock oiAcoma, we felt we no longer were in theUnited States of Am erica. W e were in theOrient. We were in Burma. Hour afteihour of the pom-pom of the drums and thenever ceasing pat-pat of precise feet gavethe peculiar sensation that the whole 70acres of rock-ballasted Acoma was sway-ing like a gently moving hammock. I kepta firm hold on Abigail's sleeve. The rewere times when I felt she was about totake off and join the ceremonial.Shadows filled the dim old church.Candles made pin pricks of light in darkcorners. The pagan celebration of Christ-mas stopped. The Christian began and thatwithout benefit of clergy.In little groups, the Indians of Acomawalked to the altar and knelt before amanger scene they had erected. Old w hitehaired grandfathers and stiff-legged chil-dren and gorgeous-shawled women crowd-ed the altar steps. In a growing heap theyleft their gifts for the Child. Ther e werevases and bowls and ollas made by theirown skillful han ds. There w ere ears ofblue and purple corn and strings of scarletchile and little golden squashes. Therewere cans of milk and boxes of sodacrackers.

On each side of the altar stood an In-

Abigail almost joined the pueblo of Acoma. Susan E. Dorr photo.dian boy perhaps 14 or 15 years old. Theywere dressed in the blue overalls, stoutclumsy shoes and gay woolen shirts ofmodern Western America. Despite theirclothes, they were First American in ex-pression and bearing. Each boy had in hishands a long rifle of Civil War vintage.They were there to protect the Child.Ana, Marta and Elena walked to theedge of the Rock with us. W her e the horsetrail dips down to the valley below, theystopped. From under their shawls they

brought out their beautiful handmadepottery."This is for you," said Ana."This is for you," said Marta."This is for you," said E lena.Down the long trail we went laden withgifts. Burros lost under loads of pinyonwood passed us. Belated stragglers, return-ing to the old home Rock, stopped theirhorses to adjust a baby or two on the saddleor to retie a yawning bundle."Buenas noches. Feliz Navidad."

The women kept the rhythm w ith their feet and w ent through intricate motionswith their hands and arms. Each hand held a sprig of evergreen.Museum of New Mexico photo.

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 13


14/40

Start your desert home now!Not l i teral ly , but s tart p lanningand d reaming i t . Make yourske tches , c l ip every th ing you seethat looks good, penci l notat ionsas ideas comepool them in abox or notebook. This col lectionwil l be the groundwork for yourul t imate bui lding pl an s . Fromthem the archi tect can turn out ahome v ib ran t wi th you , a homeideal for your own pattern of liv-ing . . . This is the advice of theOren Arnolds , who fol lowed theirown adv ice when they crea tedthe i r Casa Ven tu ra in Phoen ix ,Arizona. Here is the story of howthey bui l t their home withoutbenefit of contractor, conven-t ional materials or labor.By ADELE and OREN ARNOLD

f ) HO ME in the desert country? W eI / yearned for it, over the years; weneeded it more and more. But ap-parently we just never would get rich.Today w e have one, with a great deal ofbeauty, a surprising amount of room, anda delightful all-around livability, for wehave given it a 10-months test. Authoritiestell us it is one of the finest adaptations ofpueblo architecture in the Southwest. Andwe used very little money. It cost abouthalf what people estimate, and it hasnothing that you can't equal or improve onwhen you start to build.Pearl Harbor still was an impossibilitywhen we decided to let the contract. W eactually signed in February, 1942andthen began a struggle. The contractordied, materials were frozen and laborevaporated. Upsho t was that the Arnoldsdid a large part of the building with theirown hands, or by directing whatever highschool boys and aged Mexicans they couldlure to the site. In the end, this personaltouch added infinite charm to the dwelling,so much so that we recommend it no mat-ter what conditions you may encounter.Today our "Casa Ventura" stands as astriking handmade dwelling, finishedwithout the expense of custom built housesand without the freakishness that untutored

Adobe brick came from the desertsoil, massive beams were cut fromnative Arizona pines, flat rocks of thedesert made flagstone floors. Indiansmixed straw and mud with their barefeet to make the adobe bricks whichthen were laid by the slow and care-ful hands of Mexicans.

14 T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


15/40

4 komehands sometimes allow. The bricks are ofadobe, made by Indians who mixed strawand mud with their bare feet, laid byMexicans who were similarly close to na-ture in all its literal and sentimentalmeanings.The vigas (pole beams) are pine treesfrom the forests th at edge our desert lands.Flat desert rocks make beautiful flagstonefloors. The design is Indian pueblo, themost truly American architecture on thiscontinent.W e chose the adobe pueblo not just be-cause it is American and highly practical,but because it is closest by heritage to thedesert region. Wh y do otherwise normalpeople come out here and erect a planta-tion house from deep Mississippi, or anEnglish cottage, or an atrocity from CapeCod? W hy not, as well, adorn our desertwith a Chinese pagoda or a graceful igloo!We believe that only the pueblo, theSpanish, the rancho, or some combinationof these architectural styles, ought to bepermitted in the Southwestern country.To a large degree California and NewMexico have demonstrated the commonsense of this, and Arizona gradually iscoming to it. Those three styles offer in-finite latitude in convenience and adapta-bility, and by far the greatest beauty po-tential the world has ever known.Our humble example offers as youapproach itthe usual flat roofed effect,with rooms that are squarish or rectangularand stacked with pleasin g setbacks and off-sets. They are instantly softened by "bull-nosed" or rounded corners, and straightlines were deliberately plastered so as notto be too straight. T hus is severity avoided,and a softer more inviting pictureachieved.A 36-foot Hopi ladder (made of tama-risk limbs and baling wire ) leans againstthe front entrance hallway, like those kivaladders you see in old Oraibi or in Taos.A huge red olla is on one skyline corner,and another hangs with real drinkingwater in the rear.

False vigas are six to eight inches indiameter and protrude with only reason-able uniformity as to slant, length andchopped ends. W e felt that the perfectlyIndian women made the curtains,the rugs, some oj the upholstery.Ranchers and cowboys and artistfriends made their contributions tothe ado rnment and construction ofthe Arnold home. Decorative de-signs thunder bird, sun god, cattlebrands are part of the desert'sheritage.

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 15


16/40

All beds are handmade by the Ar-nold family. Judy, the 15-year-old,made her bed of four planks andshort 2x4 blocks on rollers, thenfinger painted it in Spanish roses tomatch her dressing table and drapes.Eight-year-old Rosemary can reachher double-deck Monterrey bed by aHopi style ladder.sawed ones were too artificial. Also thislarger size gives an effect of massivenessand strength. Real vigas, inside as ex-posed ceiling beams, do not come all theway through the walls, because this is un-sound constructionit permits water toseep in and crack plaster or melt adobewalls. Short false vigas outside seal per-fectly and look no different.Outside walls of our place are plasteredin adobe tint only, not the full chocolatebrown. But that is a matter of personalchoice. Inside, the wall tint varies froma pinkish adobe (beautiful) in living anddining room, through pastel blues, ivoryand green in the bedrooms.Th e charm of these inside walls is in thefinish. Ther e is no plaster. The bareadobe was simply rubbed smooth, paintedwith skim milk for hardening, thenpainted with color as desired. This givesa fine character to the walls, and is F.H .A.approved. Each main room except theliving room has one knotty pine wall,finished natural, to lend variety with anovel touch, also to gain a bit more floorspace. , . .. Floors are of turquoise cement, red ce-ment, or flagstones in green. Floor planas a whole becomes a Spanish design,around a patio, with a total of about 2,000square feet. Indian fireplaces, picturesqueand economical to operate, adorn the liv-ing room, dining room and master bed-room. Heating is from a central hot airfurnace, and there is a 2500-cubic-footcooler for each wing of the house, on theroof.In th e furnishings, however, came muchof the skill and imagination. This wassupplied partly by ourselves and partly byranch folk, Indians, Mexicans, friends.Living room drapes are Indian Thunder-bird and Sun God designs, cross-stitchedin gorgeous colors on heavy monk's clothby a Hopi woman named Katchin Vencie.Adele adapted that same technique for thedining room, to make beautiful curtainsof cows' heads and cattle bran ds. Spanishmotif holds for the bedroom curtains, ex-cept one that is of cattle brands to matchthe bedspreads.We went all-out cowboy in the diningroom, because all of our income is fromwriting and much of it is about ranch life.Roby Goff, a ranch friend who also isskilled at metal craft, made a wonderfulchandelier of five real branding irons.Hand tooled leather adorns the ranchotable and chairs, hand m ade. Large sepia

photographs, all of salon quality 11x14in size, form a panel in the knotty pinewall of the dining room, and all are ofranch action and scenes. A chart of 1,000typical regional brands and an oil paintingof wild mustangs complete the wallhangings.Throughout the house, chandeliers arehand made. Mostly they are wrought ironlantern s. One is a 20-po int star, Mexicantin and glass. One is a Pima bread basketturned ups ide down for a reflector. AHswitch plates, too, are hand made, of sheetiron in Indian designs. All doors carrywrought iron hinges and thumb latches orranch latches with rawhide draw strings.The front door bell was once worn by acow, porch stools once were saguaro cactuson the desert, wood boxes are nail kegspainted colorfully in Indian or cattle brand

16

Oren is a prolific Western writer.Little w onder they went all-out cow-boy in their dining room.designs, and paper baskets are decoratedboxes made by the Arnold children frombuilder's scrap.All beds are hand made, by the Arnoldfamily. In Rosem ary's (the eight yearold's) room are double-deck beds that canbecome twins. They are of "two-by-heavies" for massive looks and strength,and are given antique Monterrey finish.End boards of one show cutouts of nearbySuperstition mountain, and the othershows Camelback mountain. A Ho pi styleladder leads a child to the upper bunk.Two large drawers for storage are underthe lower bed.Judy, the 15-year-old, made her bed offour planks and short 2 x 4 blocks onrollers, and finger painted it in Spanishroses to match her dressing table anddrapes. Plasterer's wire net she cut intoa fan shape, as a place for souvenirs on herwall. Enlarged photos of high schoolyouths on the desert make wall pictures.Parents' bedroom has the Indian fire-place, and becomes a secondary livingroom when "high school" is dancing or

T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


17/40

making whoopee in the big 17 x 25 livingroom. He re, tempo rarily, is the bed forbaby Gail, age 2, but she will move in soonwith Rosemary. Double bed here wasmade of pine planks and strap iron, an-tiqued, Spanish style.Several chairs were made of cactus andtooled leather. (The Arnolds were taughtleather tooling by a cowboy, can be easilylearned from books.) Rugs are all Indianmade Navajo. So are some of the wallhanging s. One large colored map showsall important routes of the early Spanishconquistadores in this regionand oneother delightful map shows a "NewYorker's Idea of the United States."This latter, you can well imagine, isgood for an hour of laughter, particularlyin what it does to the desert zone. Dis-tinguished Arizona artists are representedin other wall hangings, most of them giftsof friendship and love. This latter itemmust not be overlooked in your houseplannin g. If you have not lived longenough or fully enough to have talentedfriends who love you at least a little, thenyou are not ready to build.Beyond that, our home has a growingassortment of "m iscellany." A section ofpetrified log, with a knot showing . A floorlamp made from a breechloader rifle of1866, found beside a soldier's skeleton inthe Estrella mou ntains. A cavalry bridlefrom Geronimo's day. Two Indian deathhamm ers. A mo untain lion's skin. Se-rapes and pillows and oddments of west-ern travels de luxe ad liball of which wehave shunted to the big patio screenedporch as our "museum" or rumpus room,,which has become our favorite livingquarters in spring and fall. W e take sies-tas there on a painted-over wicker couch.W e enjoy the radio on the table there. W edine informally at the kitchen end, whichbecomes a delightful breakfast nook, out-doorsy and colorful and cool.

We have but one more word of advice:start your desert home now.Not, perhaps, with literal building, butwith thinking, planning, getting ready!Ours we would change hardly at all, whichis remarka ble. This is because we plannedit and dreamed it and almost lived it foryears before a single adobe brick was laid.Make your sketches, clip everything yousee that seems good, make a thousand ormore penciled notes of ideas. Pool allthese in a box, as we did. Lean on themas you sketch your ultimate building plans,and your architect can turn out a marvelnot a bookish or conventional design but athing vibrant with you and your individu-ality, a place ideal for your particular pur-pose and pattern of living, a home to de-light you all the years.

Adele's creative ability adapted theatmosphere of cattle ranches to thedesign of her curtains.

Oren says, "Only the pueblo, the Spanish, the raneho,or some combination of thesestyles, ought to be perm itted in the Southw estern country."

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 17


18/40

For 363 day s of the ye ar the vil-lage of Tortugas insouthern NewMexico is a dreamy lazy littleSpanish-American communitya fewdozen humble adobe hutslike a brood of yellow chicksgathered in the protection of thegrey walls of the mother-church.But here, two days of the year, ,are brought to light age - oldsecrets of itspeople. To thethun-der of ancient tom-toms t h e ymove in the pattern of intricated a n c e s , punct ua ted w ith therhythm of old chants. Andthrough the years , as Spanish,Mexican and American eachhave exerted their influences, astrange blending of pagan andChristian rites may be seen inthe Guadalupe Day ceremony.

rle5talottuaBy THERON MARCOS TRUMBOPhotos by Rives Studio, Las C ruc e s

/ y UR VIRGIN GUADALUPEsometimes she gets angry withus when we do not do as shewishes!" Marg aret's laughin g brown eyessuddenly turned sober as if clouds hid thesunshine within. "Once a woman shepromised the Virgin she would dance onGuadalupe Day, but she wasashamed tobe seen by the people. Shedidn't come topractice most of the time and said shecouldn't remember the steps. She didn'tcome to thedances onGuadalupe Dayandour Virgin she wasvery angry with her.Soon afterward thewoman got sick in herlegs and shecouldn't walk any more."It wasDecember 11,very early in themorning. Theancient adobe Pueblo House

of Tortugas wasdimly lit byruddy gleamsfrom the fires in theyard about which hov-ered thedark shadows of thepeople tryingto keep warm. Allnight long these peoplehad been dancing in the Pueblo House,while the Virgin of Guadalupe smiledserenely down on hersubjects stepping andwhirling before her.But now the dances were over for thenight and everybody was sauntering outinto the yard. While wewaited I becameacquainted with Margaret Walters, a typi-cal Tortugas Indian girl, about 18 yearsold. The Tortugans are so mixed withother races that one can hardly tell them

Th e aged,thecrippled and the sick m oved slowly upthe rocky trail on heir annualpilgrimage of atonement. At night a trail of fire blazed from thetop of the moun-tain to the bottom, crossed with a flaming horizontal bar to form a gigantic cross.Atherton Aerial photo.

from their Spanish-American neighbors.This was true of Margaret. Hermother isSpanish-Indian and her father awhite man.For 11 years Margaret has followed thisone tradition of her Indian ancestors bydancing in theGuadalupe ceremonies.The village of Tortugas, a few milessouth of LasCruces, New Mexico, has thesame appearance as anyother little Span-ish-American communitya few dozen

humble adobe huts, like a brood of yellowchicks, gathered in the protection of thegrey walls of the mother-church. For 363days of the year it is a dreamy, lazy little' 'Zoot-suiters" change to stoicalIndians during Guadalupe fiesta.

village nestled on theedge of the mesa, be-yond anirrigation d itch. Yet here, onthoseother two days of the year, come to lightthe age-old secrets of its people, traditionsthat were born in the darkness of prehis-toric times. OnGuadalupe Day, December12, and on the daypreceding it, theypre-sent to thepublic thelast remnants of theirIndian heritageceremonial dancing.Thefiesta ofTortugas is a mellow blending ofthree races, three ages andthree religions,with a result that isboth quaint andsatis-fying.

Tortug as' story goes back to those timeswhen much of NewMexico was still anunmapped wilderness. A few of the In-dians had intermarried with the Spanishcolonists around Santa Fe, so when theGreat Rebellion of 1680 occurred, inwhich the Indians threw off the yoke ofSpanish tyranny, there were many whowere sympathetic with theconquerors. TheSpanish governor and the colonists ofSanta Fe escaped massacre by fleeing to-wards OldMexico.They were joined by a small band offriendly Indians from Isleta Pueblo neatAlbuquerque. Among these people weremen, women andchildren of all ages,andthe journey being very hard and trying,many grew ill anddiscouraged. After thecaravan was beyond imminent danger, ahalt wascalled for a rest in what is nowMesilla valley. The sick Indians and thevery oldfelt they could go no farther anddecided to stay in the broad fertile valley.These Indians founded thePueblo of Tor-

18 T H E . D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


19/40

tugas, but the balance of the tribe remainedwith the Spaniards until they reached thesafety of El Paso del Norte, beyond whichthey founded the Pueb lo of Ysleta del Sur.By now the people in the yard weremaking preparations for their annual pil-grimage of atonement to Mountain "A,"five miles across the mesa land. It was stilldark, only a little after six o'clock, but we

could see them starting out on the dimdesert trail, moving slowly because every-one was going-women, children, theaged and the crippled, even the sick. Span-ish-Americans from all over the valley andeven a few white people had gathered tojoin in the procession."Tell me, Margaret, why do your peoplemake this pilgrimage to the mountain eachyear?"She looked at me, puzzled."I don't really know," she answeredslowly. "It is just our religion. W e makea promise to the Virgin that we will climb

the mountain and then she will do mostanything we ask of her. W e've just alwaysclimbed El Cerro."And so we joined the procession. Afterseveral weary hours we reached the foot olthe mountain which apparently had beennameless until the State College placed ahuge letter of white stones on its summit.It stands alone on the mesa a bald smooth-looking hump, like the back of an ele-phant. It had figured in Indian ceremonialslong before Mesilla valley was colonizedby the Spanish.W e started climbing. The trail was not

so smooth now, and the procession sloweddown to a few steps at a time. The goingwas especially difficult for the children andthe old ones. Glancing do wn, I noticed afew splotches of blood on the stones.Someone had made a vow to go up bare-footed or perhap s on their knees. Aheadof me, Margaret tripped on a sliding stoneand twisted her ankle. She only smiled andkept on going, limping a little.Men called "officers" stood by the sideof the trail with long whips, and oncewhen there was a burst of childish laugh-ter, I heard the obvious swish-swish ofthem. Everybody must be reverent here.Another time we had to stop because awoman up ahead had fallen down over therocks. Someone volunteered to assist her tofinish the painful climb. Later she had tobe carried down the same tedious path, butnow she wouldn't give up.Noon arrived before the whole proces-sion finally reached the top of the moun-tain. After everyone had eaten lunches andrested, mass was held for the Virgin. Theafternoon was spent in various activities.The men dispersed to gather wood and

stacked it in small piles over the side of the

;

Costumes of this group of dancers known as "Don Santos" show blending of Indian,Mexican and American.moun tain, to be lit at night. The womenfashioned crowns of creosote brush anddecorated them with crucifixes and otherornaments carved from the roots of thesotol plant. The crowns and similarly dec-orated staves were to be used in the finalprocession down the mountain.

The day passed quickly and when dusk

Chief of the "Matachinis" who per-form one of the fiesta dances.

descended the num erous fires were lit. T hepeople down in Mesilla valley saw astraight path of fire blaze down the moun-tain from top to bottom. The n miracu-lously as if a giant hand had traced it withflame, the horizontal bar of a gigantic crossappeared. There on the side of the moun-tain burned a huge cross, a symbol of theTortugans' faith.Back at the village each house was lit bythe traditional luminares,or candles placedin paper bags partly filled w ith sand. Eachflat roof was outlined with these home-made lanterns. It was a quaint sight, as iiflocks of softly-colored fireflies had settledin meticulous rows upon the roofs, winking and blinking at the passerby.That night, upon their return from themountain, the weary Indians held onemore dance.Guadalupe Day blossomed forth crispand clear with brilliant skies and warmsunshin e. A typical American carnivalwith all its hurly-burly had pitched its

gaudy tents beside the church and alreadythe merry-go-round was grinding out itswearisome tunes. Two armed guards werestationed at the church door and at fre-quent intervals fired their guns into theair as mass was said within. Could thishave been to scare away evil spirits?Presently the people thronged out of thechurch and the dances began. One grou pof men, women and children formed infront of the church and went through agraceful dance to the thund er of an ancienttom-tom, while several men intoned thethrilling old chants."These are called just 'Indians' or

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 19


20/40

In fiesta costumes. Older girl recentlyjoined the WAC .Indios," Margaret told me as she joinedthem. "W ith these I have danced sixyears . . ."Perhaps the most interesting part of thisdance was the sma ll boys of seven or eightgoing through the traditional steps withmuch precision and soberness.

Another group of dancers called theAztecos were performing in two columnsbefore an ornate shrine at one side of thechurch. Although all of them were menthey were grotesquely dressed in knee-leng th skirts of brillia nt silk. Each worean apron from Old Mexico, embellishedwith such signs as Juarez or Viva Mexico.A silk cape with the picture of the Virginof Guadalupe floated behind. Crowningall was an elaborate headdress of feathers,crepe-paper flowers, mirrors and flutteringribbons. All carried gourd rattles and hugefans. Th e colors were as brillian t andstriking as possible, and the first view ofthe dancers was breathtaking.The music was furnished by a drum anda fiddle, the tune quaintly pleasing. Thesteps themselves, possibly derived fromSpanish folk dances, were similar to theAmerican musical game "Skip to My Lou,My Darling." Three or four abuelos orgrandfathers danced independently in andout the two columns and kept the crowd

laughing w ith their clever buffoonery. Onefellow attracted special attention by per-forming a number of difficult steps withuntiring rhythm.All of these dances revolved about asmall girl who stood before the shrine,clothed in a white cape on which was em-broidered ha Malinche.In the culminating dance of this groupwe could see a definite meaningthetemptations of the soul and the resurrec-tion from sin. One of the medicine-mentied a green ribbon around his waist andLa Malinche held onto it while the abuelosguarded the sides. A masked dancer step-ped from his line and pursued them. Allin time to the throbbing drum, yet sep-arately from the other performers, thesedancers played a sort of tag in which the

Small boys go through traditional steps with much precision and soberness.

masked figure tried to insert his fan be-tween La Malinche and the medicine-man.Some years, so I've been told, he doesn'tsucceed, but this year he did after severalstrenuous encounters. La Malinche wasimmediately laid down on a bit of carpetbefore the shrine. As the dance continued,each performer surrendered his fan, head-dress and rattle to be placed tent-fashionover the small girl in a solid, colorful bier.When they had finished, the air was filledwith a deep mournful tolling of the churchbell."Aye, aye, ayeeee!" Th e abueloswept insuch a frenzy that the crowd could not helplaughing.Everyone rested for perhaps ten minutesWhen the dance continued, each per-former reclaimed his adornments as hedanced, until La Malinche finally was un-covered. Now the church bells rang outtriumphan tly, for the soul was saved. Im-mediately from the church door emerged

a hymn-singing procession carrying infront of it the altar and candelabra. Th edancers who has been performing in frontof the church, bowed before the altar,backed away, and bowed again, leadingthis jubilant parade up and down the vil-lage streets. When at last they returned tothe church, all of the dancing stoppedabruptly. For nearly six hours these Indianshad danced with only brief intervals ofrest every half hour or so. All of themwere exhausted and the little girl who wasLa Malinche hardly could stand anylonger.Before the day was over a thousand ormore people had crowded the narrowstreets which usually accommodate only acouple hundre d inhabitants. Th e activitieswere not confined to the churchyard, butwere spread over the whole village. Wo -men had little booths where they soldcandies, scarves and magazines from OldMexico. There were fruit stalls, cafes andeven hamburger stands. Two Mexicans re-galed their audience with Spanish balladssung to guitar accom paniment.When the sun went down in a blaze ofgold, the evening was spent in Mexican

dances in which everyone took part, butsoon the night turned crisp and cool, andeverywhere tired people started hom eward.Guadalupe Day was at its close. Tomor-row Tortugas would be only a little adobetown dreaming in the southern sun for an-other year."Will you stop dancing after you aremarried?" I asked Margaret Walters, asshe prepared to leave for home."No, I don't think so," she replied, "Itis good to dance for our V irgin Guadalupe,and I shall dance for her just as long asI can."



21/40

Old rope grey, smoky black, buff,golden amber and tortoise-shellbrown make a quiet and beautifulcombination. Petrified palmwood.

Tomato red, terra cotta, mustard yel-low, maroon and boiled rice white.Sounds terrible but actually as beau-tiful as an oriental rug. Agatizedwood, Arizona.

Dove grey in four shades with white.Light stripes show late wood ofgrowth rings; wider and darker part,early wood. Petrified oak.

Over the Mojave desert hung a b rown ish haz e. The air felt like hot jelly.At times the ground quive red like a live anim al. A herd of little three-toedhorses sought relief from the heat in the forest of locust, oak and fan-palmsbut there was no relief. The air thickened, the sky darkened, theground s hud dere d like the skin of a fly-stung po ny. Then the wind struck.And the fury of the storm was like the raging of a herd of crazy masto-dons . . . This was two million yea rs a go in Horse valley u p Last C hanc ecan yon . It is the setting for the story of Petrified W ood, which b eg an bac kthere in the era which geologists call the pliocene.

une an oneBy JERRY LAUDERMILKDrawings by the au thorPho tomicrographs by Dave Howel lPolished Petrified Specimens in J. G. Talbot collection

7 / OU would n't recognize the scene I1/4 am about to describe as a CaliforniaJ landscape but that is what it wasover towards Last Chance Gulch about twomillion years ago early in the epoch geolo-gists call the pliocene.It was late in the afternoon of what hadstarted out to be a bright clear summer day.Although it still lacked several hours untilsunset it was beginning to get dark. Abrownish haze, hanging like a dirty cur-tain in the western sky and drifting towardthe east, was cutting off the ligh t. Thiswas dust shot high into the air by a newlyerupted volcano in the range of mountainsabout 10 miles west of the place I callHorse valley. Here , in a meadow borderedstream, a pair of hornless rhinoceri splash-ed and wheezed in refuge from the heat.The sultry air lay like a hot and stiflingblanket over everything. Something wasdefinitely wrong with the entire situation.At times the ground quivered like a liveanimal and waves of pressure from the de-tonations deep in the crater showed thatanother steam explosion had taken placeas she coughed out dust and cleared herthroat.All the animals felt the change, espe-cially the herd of three-toed horses, Hippa-rion, about the size of small deer whichcame galloping from the cover of the forestwhere trees of locust, oak, and a scatteringof fanpalms stretched back toward thefoothills. These foothills and the moun-tain range beyond long have been gone.Today their remnant lies scattered far andwide mixed with the alluvium and con-glomerates of the Rosamond formation.But in the days I write about they were thebiggest things in sight. The present SierraNevada had not yet been shoved up. Thiswas an event to come a million years later.At first, when the day began to gowrong, the horses sought relief from theheat in the shade of the forest, but now itwas hotter there than in the open meadow.The leader paused for a moment's recon-

naissance and then, as at a signal, thewhole herd trotted in the direction of anold giant locust, the scratching post of theherd, which grew close to the stream. Theshade of this old tree lay upon both landand w ater and always had been a cool sym-bol of the horse paradise which was themeadow valley. This ordinarily peacefulscene was abruptly broken by the greatchange which had come upon things.

The interruption was not so much asound as it was a mighty concussion orpressure that struck like a shove. For aninstant the air felt like a hot jelly. It seem-ed to thicken, the sky darkened and theground shuddered like the skin of a fly-stung pony. The horses whinnied w ithfright, kicked up the sod with their hoovesand disappeared over a small rise of landtoward the east. Then the wind struck.

The random fury of the storm was likethe raging of a herd of crazy mastodons.The palm trees were bent nearly horizontalbut from the toughness of their fibroustrunks only a few were broken. W ith theoaks and locusts things were different.Many were ripped out by their roots andthrown flat and the old locust scratchingpost heeled over in a shower of pebblesand soil from its roots, and with a thresh-ing of branches and crackling of splinteredwood it splashed into the stream. Rollingover and over it began a journey towardthe south where, had things followed anuninterrupted course, it would have endedits days in quiet decay in the swamp milesbelow. But things were definitely changedand with them the course of the stream.

A landslide had dammed the water-course with dirt and rocks and the pond somade was rapidly filling with the backupfrom th e stream. Her e the old scratchingpost, in company with a thousand logs andbranches of oak, pine, palm and other lo-cust trees began to circle round and roundin the backwash. No w and then the glintof lightning as it split the hot twilight gave

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 21


22/40

t "Si "

y

, /

. ' . * - , .

i iLp r

' . ^

iJ R1

B. ' ...

Left Area of Joshua tree section with rapidly deposited silica gel showing included carbonparticles in radiating lines about a nucleus. Radiation probably is interfaces of lines ofradiating quartz crystals n chalcedony. Right Another area of Joshua tree section show-ing different type of fibers. At B are parts where deposition has been too rapidfor molecular replacement.the wet logs a phosphorescent look. The nit began to rain.Th e rain that fell was hot mud. At firstbig gouts, then as the sweltering nightdarkened the rain poured in torrents ofmuddy water. Thro ugh the wet curtain ared glow in the west showed the centerfrom which all this disturbance radiatedthe volcano.All that night and the next day and forseveral days it rained and the stream swell-ed to a great muddy waste fed by the mil-lions of rivulets that scoured their waydown the slopes of the adjacent foothills.Finally the dam gave way under the pres-sure of the millions of tons of backed upwater and in a mad jumble, mud, logs, car-casses of horses, camels, rhinoceri, ances-tral pigs and even a few sabertooth catswere swept into the original stream bed.Finally, the excess of the water drainedaway and all settled down into a bed ofvolcanic mud.This was only the beginning . A new setof conditions had been imposed by the vol-cano upon H orse valley. Other coneserupted a nd as the years passed so great be-came the accumulation of ashes that treeswhich had escaped the destructive windsof the first cataclysm were buried alive stillstanding upright. Many feet of powderedrhyolite and pumice were deposited in

layer upon layer above them and now, toall purposes, they were locked up in amatrix of rock, a tuff which, although com-pact, was still permeable to percolatinggroundw ater. Years stretched out into de-cades, centuries and millenia w hile the ob-scure chemistry of petrification went on inthe fibers of the buried logs.

At the beginning, in fact for the firstfew hundreds of years, the logs simplywere soaked through and through by theundergrou nd water. But this was not ordi-nary water. In the first place it was highlymineralized with chemicals dissolved outof the powdered pumice. Some of the mostabundant of these salts were the alkalies,soda and potash, combined w ith silica. TheSalmon pink, wheat straw yellow,mulberry and white. P olished tangen-tial section through petrified root.

water also was distinctly warm, perhapshot, but nowhere near boiling. It is prob-able that the change from wood to stonetook place at a relatively shallow depthnot more than 50 feet and likely much less.We know all these things by interpretationof the evidence.Anything that has lasted long enoughcarries its history written upon it by themarks of its experiences. These m arks orsignatures are evidence. After its properinterpretation by comparison of naturalconditions with the same conditions pro-duced artificially, it frequently is possibleto reconstruct a picture of the things thathave happene d in a specific case. For in-stance, it can be shown that d uring the en-tire lifetime of the old locust scratchingpost nearly a hundred years of climaticpeace endured in Horse valley-nodroughts, no severely cold winters, no ac-cidents such as forest fires or floods. W ecan deduce this from the condition of therings of growth which nearly all are uni-form and even in contour. These growthrings are the concentric circles of alter-nately dark and light wood we see in theend of a sawed log. The darker and wideiportion of the growth ring is composed ofthe open-textured, rapidly grown springand summer wood, while the lighter, moredense and compact wood is a tissue built



23/40

up in winter. When these growth rings areeven and uniform, even and uniform sea-sons are indicated.We can tell that the water which petri-fied the log was not excessively alkaline bythe fact that decay took place and the bac-teria which cause wood to decay flourished,which they would not have done in astrongly alkaline solution. From the sameevidence we also can tell that the w ater wasnot excessively hot. Also, the reactionstook place at a relatively shallow depth be-cause the cellulose - dissolving bacterianever have been found at depths greaterthan 50 feet. Beyond this depth p ressureand lack of oxygen preserve wood againstbacterial action and what is called mummi-fied wood is formed. This is a change ofthe wood to a black and coaly materialwhich retains all the microscopic structureof the wood fibers. By proper treatmentmummified wood can be bleached, soften-ed, sliced and stained for examination justlike a piece of fresh woo d. Such wood isnot petrified.In the case of our locust log, petrifica-tion took place by what is called molecularreplacement. W hen bacteria attack woodytissue they not only attack the substancecell by cell and fiber by fiber but moleculeby molecule. W ood is composed of a com-pound of carbon, hydrogen and oxygencalled cellulose. A cellulose molecule isthe smallest cluster of carbon, hydro-gen and oxygen atoms that can clingtogether in the right proportions to havethe properties of woody fiber or cellulose.Such a molecule is many thousand timesperhaps a million times, too small to beshown by the most powerful microscope.During their growth and reproduction

A

Microportrait of thin section petrified locust wood from Last Cha nce canyon. Al-though specimen is completely chalcedonized, every detail of structure is preserved.A and B are the two zones of a single growth ring. A shows w oody tissue built upduring spring and summer. B is fall and winter wood.

LfJST CHRNCECRNYON

WPTON/Xlg_

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 23


24/40

bacteria feed, that is, they take in andutilize food materials. For the particulartypes of bacteria that cause wood to decay(there are about 50 species) the cellulosefirst has to be dissolved before it can beassimilated. This is broug ht about bychemical substances called enzymes secret-ed by the living bacteria. The enzymesbreak up the cellulose molecules into sim-pler compounds some of which have acidreactions. On e of these is carbonic acid.These acids cause silica replacement, aprocess that takes place about as follows:

The water that soaked into the old logcontained much dissolved silica and pene-trated by way of the pores and ducts nat-urally provided in the woody tissue of thelog for the conveyance of sap. Th e silicawas present as the silicates of soda andpotash in solution. So long as the waterstayed alkaline, everything was all right

the silica stayed in solution. But when thewater became acid, things began to hap-pen. Part of the soda and potash moleculeslet go of their silica in favor of strongerand more rom antic acid loves. The silicawhich had been jilted in this fickle m annerwas precipitated from solution as a gel.Now imagine that you have a pair ofsuper-microscopic X-ray eyes so that you

can see what went on in the locust logwhen it petrified. The first thing younotice is the effect of local action. This isan interesting phenomenon which takesplace in many geochemical reactions andmeans just what its name implies. Supposeyou have a large volume of alkalinewaterin th is case our percolating ground-water. Now suppose that a second solutionwith an acid reaction is being continuouslyadded in tiny amounts to the first solution.The reaction takes place on a tiny scale and

Section of mumm ified oak from very deep gravels of Colorado river, Arizona.Although specimen is extremely old, possibly as old as the chalcedonized woodfrom Last Ch ance canyon, it still is essentially wood fiber. Bacterial action wasprevented by depth and pressure and lack of oxygen.

24

only at the neighborhood of the pointwhere the acid solution blends with thealkali.Now when our locust log began to pet-rify, the bacteria, enormous things whencompared with molecules, filled the cellsof the decaying wood with their coloniesand each bacterium was surrounded by anarea of acidity. In between the colonies

and their areas of acidity there remainedunattacked stretches of woody tissuethrough which the alkaline water couldpercolate. But in the acid areas which weremolecular films on and in the cells of thedissolving cellulose, silica was depositedmolecule by molecule.This replacem ent was very slow. It canbe illustrated by the following comparison:Suppose you have a pavement made ofwooden blocks placed so as to form a pat-tern. You w ant to replace these woodenblocks with blocks of stone of the same sizebut you don't want to disturb the originalpattern. Instead of tearing up the pave-ment and starting from scratch you pullout one block today and maybe two orthree blocks tomorrow and the only con-stant system you observe in these opera-tions is that the instant you take out awooden block you replace it with one ofstone. Eventually all the wooden blockswill have been replaced by stone and youhave in fact petrified your pavement blockby block. This is what took place in thelocust log. Every detail of the pattern waspreserved as perfectly as if it had been asection of fresh w ood. Sometimes even the

bacteria were caught out, died and alsowere replaced by the silica, leaving petri-fied microbes.Wh ere this replacement has occurred ona submicroscopic scale, slowly, preserva-tion of detail has been perfect. In caseswhere local action has been rapid, th e silicahas been deposited in large blobs of silicagel and the condition is, to go back to thepavement example, as if you started outpatiently to do the job block by block, thenyou tried to rush things, tore out blocks bythe tier and filled the vacant places withconcrete poured in by the bucketful. Youfinish the jo b, but do it in a sloppy way andpreserve none of the pattern in the hastyplaces. These two conditions are shown inthe photomicrograph of the petrifiedJoshua tree from Yermo.In this locality at about the same timethere was so much excitement over inHorse valley, many joshua trees and othertypes were buried and petrified in muchthe same way as the locust log. But forsome reason in the section shown, whilepart of the silica was deposited moleculeby molecule, other areas close by were

T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


25/40

finished with a rush and structure has beenlost in the lumpy mass of silica gel. An in-teresting feature of these lumps is the pres-ence of carbon derived from the decayedyucca wood and arranged in radiatinglines. There are other interesting phases tothis decay and silicification of wood.Sometimes specimens, big logs, are

found where only one end of the log hasbeen buried in sand or ash favorable tosilicification and the other end has beenburied in clay or soil. The log then willshow one end changed to stone and theother to lignite or brown coal throughordinary processes of decay such as takeplace in peat bogs.Proof that slow decay in the presence ofsilicious water was definitely the cause ofthe precipitation of the silica is shown bya specimen of agati2ed wood from Arizonanow in the geological museum of PomonaCollege. Part of this log had been charred,

and although the rest of the specimenchanged to agate, the charcoal stayed in itsoriginal condition. It can be chipped off,and when heated, it glows and burns likeany other sample of charcoal. The ashthat remains does not show a great deal ofsilica in its composition, only slightlymore than in the ash of ordinary charcoal.This indicates that the bacteria which de-cayed the original wood could find n othingto feed upon in the charcoal and that therewas no local action and no replacement ofcharcoal by silica.This also tells something about the de-gree of alkalinity of the petrifying solu-tion in this case. Charcoal has the p ropertyof absorbing or binding down certain sub-stances on the inside of its pore s. This isdifferent from absorption where the ab-sorbed substance fills up the pores likewater fills a sponge. If the water had beenvery alkaline a greater amount of bothalkalies and silica would be found in theash.Th e striking colors frequently shown bypolished specimens of petrified wood gen-erally are due to oxide and hydroxide of

iron carried a long in the mineralizing solu-tion. But sometimes in the case of darksmoky brown and blackish specimens, thecolor is due to finely scattered particles ofcarbon dispersed throughout the colorlesschalcedony matrix.The logical question to ask here is, "Iswood being petrified at the present time?"The answer is "Yes." Wherever the properconditions occurthat is, wood, siliciousalkaline water, bacterial action and plentyof timepertification will take place justas it did in those far-off days whe n H ip-parion galloped through Last Chance can-

yon.

L I F E A N E W . . . a t

Here in the enchanted circle of the sun,you'll find new inspiration and renewedenergies.. .golden days of rest and refresh-ment, or a full round of activity to divertyou. 35-acre garden estate, all sports.No cars needed!$5th season under originalownership and manageme ntof Nellie N. Coffman,Earl Coffman andGeorge Rahman

P A L M S P R I N G S , C A L I F .

"SUNLIGHT ON THE MOU NTAIN" . . .Desert artist Lon Megargee's color lithograph of Camelback Mountain in naturalred-gold and smoky azure of Arizona. Each 16x12 print signed by the artist an dprinted on white mat suitable for framing. A colorful bit of the Southwest for yourliving room, a beautiful gift for your desert-m inded friends. $3.00 pos tpaid .

California buyers add 2!/2% tax.S e n d o r d e r s t o . . . D E S E R T C R A F T S S H O P , E l C e n t r o . C a l i f o r n i a

D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 3 25


26/40

Sez HardRock ShortyofDeathValleyBy LON GARRISON

"That Baldy Williams," com-plained Hard Rock Shorty, "is surean embarassin' guy to go out with.I've talked some about him beforebu t he sure can think o' more darnways to getyou into trouble than anyother seven fellers in Inferno."Now, of course, Baldy's real in-tere

194312 desert magazine 1943 december

Documents