Hopi ChildrenIt was a hot day in August when

Ross Carmichael of Reseda, Califor-nia, pointed his camera at theseHopi children. The result was a de-lightful picture depicting the univer-sality of children's moods thehighly amused little girl, the far-from-amused infant in her arms, andthe lad standing behind them whoobviously is more interested in Car-michael's work than in the routinesquawking of his young friend. Thismonth's first prize winning photo-graph was taken with a SpeedGraphic 4x5 camera; Carl Zeis Tes-sar lens; Plus X film; f. 16 at 1/50second.

Pictures ofthe Month

Elephant TreesThis is how Louise S. Lovett of

Santa Cruz, California, describes thesubject matter of the second awardphotograph: "Elephant trees havebark like dirty flesh with rudewounds; purple twigs; light greenleaves; blue berries . . ." This treeis among the earth's most unusualvegetable species, and is a majorattraction of the Anza-Borrego StatePark in Southern California. Thephotograph was made ai the parkin the spring of this year with an oldEastman Kodak (1920) set at f. 11,1/100 second.

LTTRTo the Readersof Desert Magazine:

Thanks to the interest andloyalty of you who have beenregular readers of Desert Maga-zine, the publishing businesswhich I founded in 1937 hasgrown and prospered. But itsgrowth has imposed ever-increas-ing duties on my shoulders: themanagement of a book publish-ing and general printing business,the operation of a retail and mailorder book shop, the sponsor-ship of a desert gallery of finearts and crafts, and the securingof competent personnel for agrowing organization all theseduties in addition to the editingof Desert Magazine.

It has become too big a job forone man, and I have looked forwardto the day when I could relinquishall the details of business manage-ment, and devote my time exclusivelyto the job I liked bestediting andwriting for Desert Magazine.

Today, I am glad to announce thatas of September 1, my goal will berealizedI will be free to write forDesert Magazine, with no distrac-tions of a commercial nature. Onthis date the ownership and businessmanagement of the Magazine willpass to the hands of a group of veryfine associates of whom Charles E.Shelton will be the publisher andprincipal owner. I say "associates"because 1 am stitl a part of the or-ganization, not only as editor butalso as part owner and a director inthe newly formed corporation.

In our printing, publishing andbook business, Shelton will be mynew boss. I selected him for the jobvery carefully because I want Desertalways to maintain the ideals of serv-ice, accuracy and integrity which Ihave sought to maintain since Desertwas founded.

I have known Chuck Shelton formany years. He is a young manwho turned down the vice presidencyof one of Southern California's lead-ing colleges because he preferred tocome to the desert as the publisherof Desert Magazine, During the yearswhen he published the GlendoraPress and the Azusa Herald in South-ern California, he made an enviablerecord for himself, both for cleanconstructive journalism, and for ahigh standard of business ethics.Chuck has tramped and explored thedesert as I have. He loves this landof the far horizons and golden sun-sets. You'll like Chuck.

No changes are planned in the per-sonnel of our organization. GeneConrotto, not only will remain asassociate editor, but he is now oneof the owners a member of thenew corporation.

If there are changes in Desert,they will be for the better, I assureyou,

RANDALL HENDERSONEditor

Volume 21 SEPTEMBER. 19S8 Number 9

COVER

PHOTOGRAPHYHISTORY

FESTIVALCALENDAR

MEMORIAL

HELD TRIP

INDIANSPERSONALITYCONTESTPOETRYGHOST TOWN

RELIGIONEXPERIENCE

NATURE

CLOSE-UPSNEWSFICTIONDESERT QUIZMININGLAPIDARYHOBBYCOMMENTBOOKS

Double-O Arch in Arches National Monument, UtahBy HUBERT A. LOWMAN

Pictures of the Month 2Old Fort Bowie

By JOSEF and JOYCE MUENCH 4Fiesta Time in Santa Fe, by AIDA CALHOUN . 5September events on the desert 6Arizona's Shrine to Bernadette

By HAROLD L. MONROE 8Gold Diggings in Rattlesnake Cailyon

By EUGENE L, CONROTTO 9Today the Apache Are Friendly Tribesmen

By JOHN L BLACKFORD 13Snakes Are His Friends, by AMORITA HOOD . 15Picture-of-the-Month contest announcement . . 16Mesa Verde and other poems 18Boom Days in Old La Paz, by AUDREY MAC

HUNTER and RANDALL HENDERSON . . 19Regardless of Creed, by NELL MURBARGER . 22"He Was a Good Man"

By MARY GEISLER PHILLIPS 25Water for Wildlife in an Arid Land

By EDMUND C. JAEGER 27About those who write for Desert 30From here and there on the desert 31Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley 31A test of your desert knowledge 33Current news of desert mines 35Amateur Gem Cutter, by DR. H. C. DAKE . . . 37Gems and Minerals 38Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 42Reviews of Southwestern literature 43

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., Palm Desert,California, Re-entered as second class matter July 17, 1943, at the postoffice at Palitl Desert,California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 356865 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1958 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.

RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager

EUGENE L. CONHOTTO, Associate EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation Manager

Unsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot tie returned or acknowledgedunless full return postage Is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility fordamage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Sub-scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.

SUBSCRIPTION ItATESOne Year J4.00 Two Years S7.00Canadian Subscriptions 33c Extra. Foreign 50c Extra

Subscriptions to Army Personnel OutsJde U. S, A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP. O. D. Order No. 19687

Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm I>eserc, California

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 8

HISTORIC PANORAMAS XIX

By JOSEF and JOYCE MUENCH

In 1862 this fort, named to honorGeorge W. Bowie of the CaliforniaVolunteers, was established as a pro-tection for Apache Pass, perhaps themost dangerous point on the long im-migrant road to California. Cuttingbetween the foothills of the Dos Ca-bezas Mountains and the Chiricahuas,the pass itself winds and twists, offer-ing in rocks and low trees, excellentambush possibilities for the Apaches.

On a hilltop and sunny slopes,adobe walls of the fort and outlinesof some thirty other structures formimpressive ruins for the busy post,abandoned in 1896 and sold to localranchers and farmers in 1912, Vandalshave carried away window frames andwhatever else was removable butthere is talk of restoration and possiblenational monument status for the site.

Reached off State 86 from Bowie,the area is dotted with spots wheresoldiers or immigrants encounteredIndian raiding parties and several ofthem are marked, as the site of awagon train massacre of 1861 up inthe Pass,

DESERT MAGAZINE

Old Fort Bowie

FiestaTimeinSanta Fe

By AIDA CALHOUN

Indians parading in the Plaza. NewMexico State Tourist Bureau Photo.

THE torjas overflow withgrain in late summer, vegeta-bles and fruit have been gath-

ered, and the pumpkins in the fieldsawait the kiss of some frosty night,New Mexicans prepare for the greatcelebration.

The house is made ready. Outsidewalls are whitewashed, and the fencemended. Blankets and rugs are takento the creek for washing. Then comesthe matter of costumes. Closets areransacked colorful purple shirts

Mariachi de Chapat. Santa Fe Rail-way Photo.

Zozobra Old Man Gloom. Hisburning signals the start of the fes-

tival. New Mexico State TouristBureau Photo.

trimmed in pink, green skirts fringedwith yellow - laces and jewels arecarefully inspected.

It is time for the Fiesta, and in NewMexico's capital city of Santa Fe thiscelebration is as spectacular andthrilling as Louisiana's Mardi gras orthe pre-Lenten carnivals of the OldWorld.

This year Santa Fe's Fiesta beginson Friday, August 29, with the tradi-tional burning of Zozobra (Old ManGloom), and continues through Mon-day, Labor Day, September 1.

This is the time for little children

S E P T E M B E R , 1958

CALENDARARIZONA

August ll-Scptember 14Mary Rus-sell Colton Exhibit at Museum ofNorthern Arizona, Flagstaff.

August 30-Saptember 1Labor DayGolf Tournament, Douglas.

August 30-September 1 PioneerDays Rodeo, Kingman.

August 30 - September 1 Rodeo,Williams,

August 31-September 1 Rodeo,Kingman.

September 1Cucumber Festival andRodeo, Taylor.

September 6Dick Wick Hall Day,Salome.

September 6-14 National HomeWeek event: March of the Models,sponsored by Home Builders Asso-ciation, Phoenix.

September 12-14 Navajo TribalFair, Window Rock.

September 12-14Coconino CountyFair, Flagstaff.

September 12-14 Navajo CountyFair, HolbroOk.

September 15-16La Fiesta Patrias,Olendale.

September 19-21Yavapai CountyFair, Precott.

September 20-21Annual Rex AllenDays, Willcox.

September 20-21 Jaycee Rodeo,Winslow,

September 26-28 Cochise CountyFair, Douglas.

September 27-28 Mojave CountyFair, Kingman.

September 28-30 Gift and JewelryShow, Hotel Westward Ho, Phoe-nix.

CALIFORNIAAugust 29-September 1Fiesta, Mo-

rongo Valley.August 30-September 1 Homecom-

ing and Rodeo, Bishop.September 4-7Antelope Valley Fair,

Lancaster.September 620 Mule Days, Boron.September 26-2811th Annual Col-

orado River Outboard Marathon,community Diamond Jubilee pa-rade, Needles.

NEVADAAugust 29-September 1County Fair

and Livestock Show, Elko.August 30-September 1Labor Day

Celebration, Sparks-Reno.August 30-September 1 30th An-

nual Nevada State Rodeo, Winne-mucca.

August 30-September 1Lions Stam-pede, '49er Show, Fallon.

August 31-September 1Labor DayRodeo, Eureka.

September 1 Labor Day Celebra-tions at Ely and Pioche.

September 6-7South#rn CaliforniaWater Ski Championship Races,Lake Mead.

September 8-9Annual Jazz Festival,Virginia City.

September 11-14 Washoe CountyFair, Reno.

September 13 Lions Club HorseShow, Tonopah.

September 13-144-H Junior Fair,Fallon.

September 27 Jacks Carnival,Sparks.

NEW MEXICOAugust 29-September 1 Annual

Fiesta, Santa Fe.

August 31-September 1 World'sChampionship Steer Roping Con-test, Clovis.

September 2 St. Stephen's DayFiesta and Dance, Acoma Pueblo.

September 6-7County Fair, Socorro.September 6-8Harvest Dances, San

Udefonso Pueblo.September 11-13Dona Ana County

Fair, Las Cruces.September 12-14Quay County Fair,

Tucumcari.September 12-14Sierra County Fair,

Truth or Consequences.September 15 Ceremonial Dances

and Races, Jicarilla Apache Reser-vation.

September 16-21San Juan CountyFair, Farmington,

September 17-20 Curry CountyFair, Clovis.

September 18-20 Hidalgo CountyFair and Old Timers' Day, Lords-burg.

September 18-21 Colfax CountyFair, Springer.

September 19 Ceremonial Dancesand Fiesta, Laguna Pueblo.

September 19-20Otero County Fairand Rodeo, Alamogordo.

September 19-20 Valencia CountyFair and Sheriff's Posse Rodeo,Belen.

September 19-20 De Baca andGuadalupe Bi - County Fair, Ft.Sumner.

September 19-21 Hidalgo CountyFair, Sheriffs Posse Rodeo, OldTimers' Parade (on 19tb), Lords-burg.

September 23-25 Union CountyFair, Clayton.

September 23-26Roosevelt CountyFair, Portales.

September 27-October 5New Mex-ico State Fair, Albuquerque.

September 27-28San Miguel Fiesta,Socorro.

September 29-30 Fiesta of SanGeronimo on 29 th, Sun DownDance on 30th, Taos Pueblo.

UTAHAugust 30-September 1Iron County

Fair, Parowan.September 1 Cantaloupe Day Pa-

rade, Bountiful.September 1 Labor Day Celebra-

tions at Price, American Fork,Park City and Milford.

September I Founder's Day Cele-bration, Wellsville.

September 1-3 Motorcycle Races,Bonneville Salt Flats.

September 2 . Pony Express Relayfrom Vernal to Tooele.

September 4-6Peach Days Celebra-tion, Brigham City.

September 5-Southern Utah Live-stock Show, Cedar City,

September 6Community Fair, Lin-don,

September 6Interstate Riding ClubMeeting, Nephi.

September 6-7-Sanpete County Fair,Ephraim.

September 12-13 County Fair,Nephi.

September 12-21Utah State Fair,Salt Lake City.

September 13-14 Galena Days,Brigham Canyon.

September 17-19Metal Mining andIndustrial Mineral Convention ofthe American Mining Congress,Salt Lake City.

and los viejos to forget all but joy andgaiety. It is a time of fun for theIndians, Anglos and Spaniardsmostof all, the Spaniards, descendants ofthe conquistadores who settled here inthe late 16th Century. All three peo-ples making up the population of NewMexico go about the business of cele-brating this most important occasionin their chosen way.

The Fiesta is America's oldest com-munity celebration, and has been heldin Santa Fe since 1712. It takes placeduring early September for a specialreason. In 1680 the Pueblo Indiansrose against their Spanish conquerorsand after a bloody siege took the Pal-ace of Governors in Santa Fe. ManySpaniards, including 21 priests, weremassacred, and the settlers drivenback into Mexico. But 12 years later,Don Diego DeVargas peacefully re-conquered the province. On Septem-ber 14, 1692, Spain's royal standardagain flew over Santa Fe. DeVargasthen returned south, and the followingyear brought the colonists back toSanta Fe. But the Indians gave battlethis time and were defeated. The Fi-esta is a prolonged celebration of thismomentous turn in New Mexico's his-tory.

Visitors arriving in Santa Fe for theFiesta arc met with a gentle sunslanting across the plaza, and the pun-gent odor of cedar, lavishly used indecorating the bazaar booths, whichfills the thin air. The startling cos-tumes of three distinct nations flaunttheir styles and colors to bedazzle theeyes.

After absorbing the shock of beingprojected backwards into an atmos-phere of bygone centuries, I begin toenjoy the mythical tranquility that set-tles over the gay scenes. Every coinerof the plaza is a different picture.

A group of senoritas pass. Theirgorgeous costumes swish as they strollalong the tree-lined path. Their softSpanish conversation drifts back, andthey are gone.

On a bench sits a wrinkled great-grandmother of one of the Pueblotribes. She is weighed down, with sil-ver and turquoise jewelry probablyworth $1000. Other tribesmen squatalong the sidewalk nearby. Some In-dian men, it is said, squat before theirwares throughout the four days of thecelebration, and then limberly scuttleup and away as if they had been rest-ing in platform rockers. These Pueblosare stolid-faced, withdrawn, quietbut more picturesque than others atthe Fiesta.

The Mexican costume fits into thescene perfectly. Blouses are richlyembroidered, skirts billow in gorgeouscolorswhite teeth flash in smiles tostrangers.

Children are taught from infancy

DESERT MAGAZINE

the why and wherefore of the celebra-tion. They are trained in the religiouspart as well as the historic ceremon-ials and merry-making. In the candle-light procession from St. FrancisCathedral to the Cross of the Martyrs,a service honoring the martyred Fran-ciscan Fathers, little girls in their blueand yellow full skirts, Spanish combsand black lace mantillas, march in thegrand manner that well becomes thedescendants of conquistadores.

Among the most authentic of Fiestasurvivals is the DeVargas Pageantstaged before the old Palace of Gov-ernors. This historic drama re-enactsDeVargas' conquest of New Mexico,and his reading of the royal proclama-tion in the Plaza.

Just as the rays of the dying sunare sending a glow from across themountains, the tranquility is shattered.Voices and laughter, the muted stringband hidden some place in the shrub-bery are stilled for a moment. Theblare of a brass band is heard downthe street.

"The parade! The parade!" shoutvoices in three languages.

And what a parade! Every foot ofit steeped in the alluring mystery ofOld Mexico; the antiquity of the Span-ish Main; the color and atmosphere ofthe Pueblos. No blending of three na-tions could turn out to be a morespectacular appeal to sight and senses.

A dozen Castilian riders atop snowwhite horses march ahead of the band.An old carriagea veritable ghost ofthe past comes wheeling along,drawn by high - stepping chestnuthorses. In the ancient vehicle sits agorgeously costumed senora stitchingaway on a yellowed piece of embroid-ery. Following this is a Mexican band,then floats, street dancers, two expertSpanish Fandango dancers performingon a float. Proud Indians, blanketedand in full feathered dress, followedby burros, trappers and miners, pass.And while the soft strains of La Gol-ondrina fade down the street, nightfalls over the Plaza and Old Santa Fe.

Here are highlights from this year'sFiesta schedule:

Friday, August 297 a.m. DeVar-gas Mass at St. Francis Cathedral; 8p.m. Burning of Zozobra; 8 p.m.Crowning of Fiesta Queen at St.Francis; 9:30 p.m. Enthronement andInvesture of Fiesta Queen in Plaza.

Saturday, August 30 10 a.m.Children's pet parade; 4 and 8:30p.m. Indian dances at Old Palace; 9p.m. Conquistadores Ball and BailcRanchero.

Sunday, August 31 9:30 a.m.Pontifical Procession; 2:30 p.m. En-trada of DeVargas and Pageant in

Neighboring Pueblos display their wares to tourists in Palace of Governorscorridor. Santa Fe Railway Photo.

Plaza; 3 p.m. Merienda de la Fiestaat St. Francis Auditorium; 4 p.m.Indian Dances at Old Palace; 7:30p.m. Vespers at St. Francis followedby Candlelight procession to Cross ofMartyrs; 9 p.m. DeVargas Dance.

Monday, September 1 3 p.m.General Fiesta Parade; 8 p.m. Queen'sReview of 1958 Fiesta at Plaza.

In addition to the above events,there will be street dancing, Indian ba-zaar booths, kiddie rides, folk music.

1

DeVargas Pageant com-memorates the re-con-quest of New Mexico.It is staged during theFiesta before the old

Palace oj Governors.

S E P T E M B E R , 1958

Arizona's Shrine to Bernadette...

Replica of the Shrine to Saint Bernadette of Lourdes erected 50 years agoby the Bishop of Tucson. Photo by the author.

In this Centennial Year of thevisions of Saint Bernadette atLourdes, a measure of deservedattention is being paid to a sel-dom-visited, little-known replica ofthe famed French shrine erected ahalf-century ago near Mission SanXavier del Bac in Southern Ari-zona.

By HAROLD L, MONROE

N THE SIDE of a small rockyhillock less than a mile east ofSouthern Arizona's beautiful

Mission San Xavier del Bac {Desert,August '57) is a startlingly accuratereplica of one of the world's mostfamous shrines Bernadette's Grottonear the city of Lourdes in France.

According to the legend, a hundredyears ago this year the 14-year-oldFrench maiden, Bernadette Soubirous,beheld on 18 separate occasions avision in a mountain grotto nearLourdes. This girl told of how in thisvision the Blessed Virgin had appearedand bade her to bathe in the watersof the grotto. Bernadette went to herknees and dug in the earth wherethere was no water, and shortly theresprang forth a fresh clear spring.

Some of the townspeople were

skeptical of this poor illiterate younglady's tale. But there was the waterflowing in a stream to prove her state-ment, and many were convinced amiracle had happened. They cameand also bathed in the sacred waters.Presently some who had suffered ail-ments reported marvelous recovery.More and more of the people beganto believe, and in 1933 the CatholicChurch made Bernadette a saint.

Most are familiar with the story ofBernadette and that a shrine was con-structed at the grotto of her vision, butfew know that the Southwest also hasits Shrine to Bernadette. The inscrip-tion carved in a marble slab on one ofthe steel posts of the fence before it,reads: "Erected by the Bishop ofTucson A.D. 1908 the Fiftieth Anni-versary of the Wondrous Apparitionsof the Blessed Virgin Mother of Godat the Grotto of Lourdes."

Mission San Xavier Del Bac, gleam-ing white in the rays of the desert sun,was founded by the beloved JesuitPadre Eusebio Francisco Kino in 1700.This mission is acclaimed by many asthe greatest of the chain establishedby this good Father. Located on thePapago Indian Reservation, it is theonly one of these missions still usedby the Indian Catholics as a house ofworship.

Although a visit to San Xavier is amust on the schedule of a large per-centage of visitors to Southern Ari-zona, it seems that few make the shortwalk to the shrine. I saw no one atthe shrine during my last visit there,despite the fact many out-of-state carswere parked at the mission.

Aside from possible benefits thatmight be derived from bathing in thewater that flows from the spring at theoriginal Lourdes Shrine, pilgrims re-port a feeling of love and peacefulnessthat enfolds them after entering thegrotto. One late summer while visit-ing the shrine at San Xavier the Ari-zona sun was bearing down with suchforce that 1 was quite uncomfortableyet as I stood gazing at the HolyFigure in the niche in the rocks, justsuch a feeling of love and peacefulnesscrept into my whole being.

Around 2,000,000 people visit theShrine at Lourdes each year, and itis expected that during this Centen-nial Year as many as 7,000,000 maydo so. No doubt there are millions ofothers who would like to visit Lourdes,but are unable to do so. Perhaps someof these people who reside in theSouthwest would find a visit to OurLady of Lourdes in our own desert adelightful substitute.

AIR CONDITIONING IS NOTAX DEDUCTION BONANZA

Air conditioning is no longer re-garded as a luxury on the desert, butneither is it the income tax deductionwindfall some have been led to believeon interpretations of medical expenserulings. However, it can be claimedas a deduction in some individual cases.

Wilson B. Wood, director of theInternal Revenue Service for Arizona,announced a new IRS ruling whichclarifies the air conditioning situation.

The bureau cannot make individualdeterminations in advance. As withother medical expenses, the need mustbe substantiated by evidence, inter-preted as a doctor's statement of theneed to alleviate the health condition,usually asthma, hay fever or heartcondition.

Capital outlay for the air condition-ing unit, and the amount for its opera-tion and cost, must further be relatedonly to the sick person, and purchasedfor his benefit, and not be for a per-manent improvement or betterment ofthe property, Wood explained.Phoe-nix Gazette

DESERT MAGAZINE

Charles V. McClure made his first prospecting trip to Rattlesnake Canyon onJuly 4,1941.

By EUGENE L. CONROTTOMap by Norton Allen

FOUND our Jeep climb-ing Morongo Pass which linksthe low Colorado Desert near

Palm Springs, California, and the highMojave Desert. In the small scatteredcommunity of Yucca Valley, my trav-eling companion, Mel Harrison, swungthe vehicle west toward the rose-tintedslopes of the San Bernardino Moun-tains, and soon paved roads and thecomplex problems of a troubled worldwere behind us.

In my pocket was an invitationfrom old-timer Charles V. McClure tovisit his gold claims in RattlesnakeCanyon, a north-trending gorge on thedesert flank of the range. "All are

welcome," he had written, "and besure to bring your dry washers. I'moffering rockhounds a free chance topan a little color here . . ."

To paraphrase George WhartonJames, who described the MorongoPass as a "peculiar piece of desert,"the higher country west of Morongois a truly delightful piece of desertsurprisingly little known by desertdevotees who prize such out-of-the-way places.

The hard surface dirt road windsamong huge rounded boulders so typ-ical of Joshua Tree National Monu-ment on the opposite side of the Pass,then climbs up through Burns Canyon

Here's your invitation to visita Kttle*frequented desert moun-tain areapan (or goldcampout under pine trees marvelat giant Joshuasand follow arugged canyon trail to a miningrelic of the 1920s. The northernslopes of the San BernardinoMountains offer a rich harvestground for the summer -week-end explorer, for here is com-bined the rugged beauty ofmountain wilderness and thecharm of the desert.

bordered by several cozy and attrac-tive mountain retreats. One steep-gabled cabin, painted a brilliant redand trimmed in white, conveyed thejoy of living its owner must feel whenhe arrives here for a weekend stay.

Beyond Burns Canyon is a wide5500-foot-high basin, and here thetrail is an aisle through one of thegrandest Joshua tree stands on theMojave Desert. Forty and 50 footgiants they are, and while there maybe individual trees in other parts ofthe Mojave Desert taller than any we

S E P T E M B E R , 1958 9

Gold Diggings inRattlesnake Canyon

saw that day, I doubt very much ifany area can claim Joshuas that matchthese on the northern slopes of theSan Bernardinos in average height.The general floral picture here is thatof high desert species where graniticand similar soils predominate. Prince'splume (stanleya pinrtata), sagebrushand Mojave prickly pear are quiteabundant.

McClure had written that there areso many forks and cross-roads on thebasin, detailed directions to his dig-gings would be useless.

"Every time you come to a fork inthe road, stop and look for my signit'll be there," he had said.

The first McClure sign is at themain junction on this road. It pointedright or north down Rattlesnake Can-yon. The branch which continueswestward leads to Big Bear Lake and

McClure holds gold nuggets foundin Rattlesnake Canyon.

Valley, a popular mountain resortarea. San Bernardino National Forest

TO VICfORWLLC

Ranger Earl E. Nichols recently re-ported that major improvements areslated for the Big Bear to Yucca Val-ley road. At present it is negotiableby conventional cars providing thedrivers use care over the few roughspots. When these repairs are made,I predict many hundreds of folks willdiscover the wonders of this back-country paradise.

Nearing the McClure property, theroad winds to the base of a chaparral-covered rocky ridge. Dotting the hill-side are the greens and reds of man-zanita, and in the flat stretch belowMcClure's well-built cabin 40-footpine trees grow alongside 40-footJoshua trees.

McClure welcomed us warmly. Heis thin and wiry, and the long whitestrands of hair on his weather-etchedface are forever being brushed intoplace with quick motions of his toughbrown hands.

He was bom in Illinois 72 yearsagoa farmer's son. When nearly 50years of agea time when a manseriously begins making solid plans forhis retirement years the depressionstruck.

In 1934, without a job or muchmoney and no skill save that of farm-ing, he migrated to California.

"In those days $10 would buyenough grub for a fellow to stay in thedesert a month," McClure explained."So rather than lay around the houseand helplessly watch mother that'swhat I call my wife, Charlottetry tosupport the family with her nursingjob, I took to prospecting.

"I sure got the gold fever," hegrinned. "I prospected the Turtles,Chuckawallas and a whole string ofother mountains.

"I averaged about a dollar a d a y -including a $100 nugget now andthen. You can see there were plentyof days I dug for nothing.

"But, there's no place I worked thatI liked as much as these diggings," hesaid, sweeping an arm over the milesof rugged rolling mountain countrysurrounding us. "Every place Ipanned, T found color."

Many jobless men turned to goldmining in the '30s, and even the cur-rent recession has sent a few to goldbearing streams and placer grounds totry their luck. Weekend miners arepaying more attention to their claims,and mining journals are clamoringmore vociferously than ever for a re-turn to the gold standard.

But not McClure. "The price ofgold is all right," he said, "all theother prices are out of line."

Gold mining in the San BernardinoMountains began in 1859 with dis-

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

coveries in Bear Valley. A consider-able rush followed, and the next au-tumn another strike was made innearby Holcomb Valley. These dig-gings were shallow and easily worked.In 1870 a 40-stamp mill was erectedin Bear Valley. It burned soon after-ward, and smaller mills were built.But bad luck of one sort or anothercontinued to plague the mining opera-tions. When the miners left the dig-gings and wandered off to the fourcompass points, they did so withshovel in hand and eyes glued to theground.

It was some of these old bucks, asMcClure calls them, who re-discoveredthe old Spanish diggings in the Rattle-snake Canyon area. A few stayed onfor a week, others for an entire sum-mer, some returned year after year. Anew crop of self-employed miners ap-peared in the '30s, but eventually alldrifted onexcept McClure. He tookup 12 claims240 acresembracinga series of low parallel hogbacks, thegold-bearing conglomerate piled hereby glacial action. Then he developeda water supply at a spring a few hun-dred feet above the cabin (everylength of pipe had to be dragged byhand up the sharp incline), cut roadsto connect his prospect holes so hecould more easily keep up his assess-ment improvements and here hestands today upon a million dollars ingold, hoping against hope that somebacker with capital, heavy equipmentand know-how will come along toseparate the metal from the gravel.

In the meantime, Charlotte con-tinues her nursing duties at Palm

The Yucca Valley to Big Bear back road in the basin of giant Joshua trees.Springs to grubstake her husband. Shespends her free time at the cabin,shoveling dirt into a dry washer, hand-picking color out of the concentratingtables, and sharing his dreams,

McClure took a carefully wrappedpacket from a cupboard and handedme an assay report made on a samp-ling from his claims: $200 a ton ofore in gold; $2 silver; $800 titanium;$80 mercury; and $70 silicon.

"Tell the rockhounds they can comeup here anytime they wantI'll showthem where they can pan and camp,"he said. "It gets kind of lonely on thishill, and I like company." There are

Mel Harrison inspects a pine sapling which McClure says has not shownany signs of growth in the past 17 years.

many active claims in this vicinity, butonly McClure lives here during thegreater part of the year.

"Not many people in RattlesnakeCanyon," he went on, "but plenty ofdeer, bobcat, lizards, coyotes, skunksand even a few rattlesnakes whichgave this place its name." He re-ported an interesting fact; each sum-mer has seen a marked decrease inthe number of rattlers encountered inthe canyon. In the past two or threesummers he has not seen one.

Laurence M. Klauber, in his mon-umental two-volume work, Rattle-snakes, Their Habits, Life Histories,and Influence on Mankind (Desert,May '57), states that in SouthernCalifornia there are 13 Rattlesnakecanyons, seven creeks, three moun-tains, two peaks, two springs, onevalley, one camp and one meadow.This testifies to the impact made byrattlesnakes on Western emigrants.

We spent several hours riding andhiking over McClure's property. Weinspected the prospect holes, dug intothe exposed pay dirt banks, followedthe "old bucks' " paths over the grav-elly ridges, crawled into tunnels, wan-dered amongst the Joshuas and pines,and climbed the slope to the springand reservoir. Everywhere we wentwe saw the tremendous amount ofwork expended on a project which sofar has yielded less than pennies foreach hour of labor.

There are countless pine - scentedcampsites on McClure's property, andplenty of deadwood and fresh springwater. According to Ranger Nichols,camping and building fires on the claimsare permissible providing the visitors

S E P T E M B E R , 1958 11

have McClure's permission, and allrequirements of the State Fire Codeare met.

Altitude at the cabin is 5650 feet.Snow blocks the trails from the firstof November to the early spring thaw-ing. In 1949 McCIure was snowed-infor 51 days, during which time he"read everything in the cabintwoand three times,"

The trail down Rattlesnake Canyonshould only be attempted by Jeeps.The canyon opens up on the desertfloor in the Old Woman Springs vicin-ity, a famous watering place much usedby early Indians, prospectors andcattlemen.

From McClure's diggings Mel andI retraced our route through the peace-ful Joshua basin and down Burns Can-yon. Three miles west of Pioneertown,a miniature Knott's Berry Farm West-ern tourist town on the Big Bear-Yucca Valley road, we turned east-ward on the well-marked Pipes Can-yon road. We followed the trail toPipes Public Camp and the inactive

quarry beyond, long a favorite collect-ing area for a colorful banded whiteand yellow sandstone material. Ama-teur gem cutters use it for spheres,bookends, cabinet specimens and gar-den stones.

Pipes Canyon cuts deeply into thenortheastern flank of the rugged rangewhich ascends sharply to crest at 11,-485-foot San Gorgonio Mountain,about a dozen miles southwest of theonyx mine.

The higher we climbed the narrowerand steeper the trail became, and thecloser against its sides pressed thethick green vegetation. In many placesthe cold mountain stream rushes acrossthe wheel tracks, but the road is firm.Mel and I played a mental game atevery twist in the canyon: wouldstandard autos be able to make thistrip?

Nearing the public campsite we hadbeen jarred to near numbness by thechuckholes in the tortuous road, andhad decided that this was no placefor today's luxury autoswhen down

How A Bellows-Type dry Washer WorksGravel lo be concentrated is shov-

eled onto screen (A), where thecoarse material passes off the lowend of the screen, and the fines gointo the hopper (B). From the lowend of the hopper, the sand falls tothe riffles (C). Air from the bellows(D) lifts the lighter particles of sandover the riffles and off the low endof the washer, while the heavier par-ticles of gold and black sands remainback of the riffles.

The machine is operated by turningthe crank (E) which is replaced witha small gasoline engine on some ofthe larger washers. The crankshaftis equipped with a cam to vibratethe screen, and a pulley wheel. Thewheel transmits power by belt to aneccentric which operates the bellows.

To insure a flat surface and an evendistribution of air in the gold recov-ery section, a riffle unit is built asfollows: A well-braced heavy screenis covered with several layers of bur-lap and overtain by a piece of win-dow screen, which is covered withhandkerchief linen above which theriffles are placed from four to sixinches apart. The riffles are made ofhalf- to three-quarter-inch half-roundmoulding with the flat face on theupper side. If amalgamation of theflour gold is desired, pockets holding

quicksilver are placed in front of theriffles. Some flour gold also passesthrough the handkerchief linen andis caught in the burlap.Text anddrawing courtesy California StateDivision of Mines

The author inspects banded mate-rial just below the Pipes Canyon

onyx mine quarry.

the canyon came a sleek low 1958station wagon filled with a family ofhappy rockhounds! They had beento the quarry at the end of the road.

"How's the trail ahead?" Mel asked."It sure beats the freeway," an-

swered the driver with a smile.The campground offers stoves, ta-

bles, sanitary facilities, stream waterand deep silent solitude. The road tothis point is too rugged for housetrailers.

James J. Malinowski of 812 N. Ave.63, Los Angeles 42, is the owner ofthe Lucky Onyx Mine. He has gen-erously given his permission to rock-hounds to collect there providing thelarger stones (those weighing 25pounds or more) are not broken upor removed.

There is much float material in thesteep canyon in which the mine islocated. Vandals have all but de-stroyed the several buildings on theproperty, and only recently the claimshave been stripped of all machineryand cable.

The mine, intermittently operatedsince 1921, is set in wild and ruggedcountry. Elevation at the bottom ofthe canyon where the loading platformwas located is 7280 feet; and over7900 feet near the top of the quarry.

And soj our trek through portionsof the San Bernardino Mountains'desert slopes came to an end. We hadonly scratched the surface, but whatwe saw is sure to bring us back manymore times in the future.

12 DESERT MAGAZINE

A little White River matron wears typical tribal dressderived from fashions of the post-Civil War era. The

younger set clings to traditional transportation.

School girls of Fort Apache, Arizona. "Apache girlsare modest," declared an old timer. "They respect

men folk." Pair turned backs until spoken to.

Today the Apache AreFriendly Tribesmen...

Isolated in mountain-guardedreservations, traditionally aloof,steadfast in their determinationto maintain the social customsof their ancestors these arethe White Mountain Apaches.A visit to their camps in South-ern Arizona is truly a uniqueexperience.

By JOHN L BLACKFORDPhotographs by the author

T WAS JUNE, 1946. As I passedthe frowning precipitous escarp-ment of Arizona's Superstition

Mountains, I concluded that a South-western picture expedition would notbe complete without filming the WhiteMountain Apache, the once war-likepossessors of those rugged summits.

On the map, the broad black lineof pavement north from Globe toCarrizo, and the graded track contin-

SEPTEMBER, 1958

uing on to Fort Apache, seemed tooeasy an approach to the Indian Reser-vation. It would make too casual anyacquaintance with the once-famedraiders of the desert hills. An alternateroute eastward to San Carlos, thennorth by desert trail and hill road toSawmill, Black River and the Fortappeared much more promising.

Bands of the western Apache never an Indian "nation" scarcely

possessed even tribal unity. Yet theyheld unchallenged the headwaterranges of the Salt and upper Gila. Tothem belonged ail southeastern Ari-zona and adjacent New Mexico. Nowthe Chiricahua, Pinaleno, Coyotero,Aravaipa, White Mountain and othergroups are gathered on the San Carlosand Fort Apache reserves. Theircolorful customs remain much thesame; and the smoke drifting lazilyup from wickiup fires recalls vividlytheir once far-scattered ancestral en-campments.

It was a dirt road that led north

13

from the agency settlement at SanCarlos. Like the old Indian trails, ascore of tracks crossed it. As theydeparted, wandering off into desertback country, it became uncertainwhich pair of dusty ruts led to Sawmill.For another hour the car bumped onover stony malpai. Deceptively theruts turned westward. Perhaps, if theylasted, the scarcely discernible trackmight get me back to distant pavement.Then the trail dropped to the floor ofa mesquite and cottonwood coveredwash. After an anxious mile down itsdry sandy bed I was among theApache!

In this remote corner of the reser-vation I had stumbled upon a campfire,shade, and cattleman Alton Polk. Hiseasy welcome made it seem as if he'dbeen waiting for a lost and picturelessstranger. His friendly cowhands re-moved a tall coffee pot from its black-ened pole over iron wood coals, andpoured a cup for this new arrival.Before climbing into the saddle, Polkdeployed them for my camera.

Only cattle trails ventured beyondthe campsite. I backtracked, and sev-eral hours later returned to the wel-comed pavement. Next day it tookme quickly north to Fort Apache.There 1 found the unhurried patternof Indian living that still lures me.

TOP Homeward trait from FortApache. "They speak the samelanguage we do, only faster," aNavajo girl told author. The littlemiss on the left proved an excellentinterpreter. The well-clad burro ap-peared also to have profited byApache manners, but evidently wasnot trustedobserve hobble marks

on forelegs.CENTER Cattleman Alton Polkdeploys his husky cowhands andwell - conditioned remuda for theauthor who stumbled into this campon a malpais track near PigeonSprings on the San Carlos Reserva-

tion.

BottomBurros are the everpresentburden bearers and women's con-venient steeds. A squaw-grass plaitedwickiup serves nearly every Apache

housing need.

DESERT MAGAZINE

Bill Esenwein and three of the creatures which share Rattlesnake Haven with him.

Bill Esenwein is not the first man to search out the mysteries oflife by observing the workings of Naturebut he probably is the firstto put what he has learned to use by sharing his cabin with rattlesnakes.Like rattlers, Esenwein's sixth sense the acceptance of all livingcreatures is bound to be controversial.

By AMORITA HOOD

ONE OF MY desert venturesQ *he Rich Hill area near Con-

gress Junction, Arizona, I founda mining shack in a rocky cove beneatha sign which read "Rattlesnake Ha-ven." This intrigued me for as a childI had a great love for all living crea-tures, and felt the crawling ones wereunjustifiably resented. I still have alove and sympathy for them.

Sitting in the car, not knowing if Iwas welcome, I waited. Finally a headpopped out of the window and a reso-nant voice said: "Come in, come in."I accepted the invitation.

Entering his domain, I heard a soft

"whur-r-r." I stopped and listened.The softness of the rattle signified thatthe snake was small, probably a side-winder. They are so hard to see thatI stood quietly and studied the rocksand ground at my feet. Then I sawa tiny horned head and a lithe formslithering away.

While slowly walking down the hill,avoiding any quick movement, I heardseveral louder rattles. It is only fright,quick movement, and the animositythat we have for Mr. Snake, whichactually causes us to get bitten. Eachof these snakes seemed to accept me.Some crawled away. Some never even

raised a head. I was so lost in mythoughts of years gone bythe re-membered childhood pity for thesecreaturesthat I had forgotten theman entirely. Then the voice said:"Why are you not afraid of mysnakes? They are my watchdogs, youknow."

I was shocked back into the realityof the day. My thoughts were drawnto his brown penetrating eyes. Onlya human can stand another human'seyes. Animals really don't accept ourstaring at them. But this man wasstaring at me as if I had committed acrime.

I had wandered into the "snakeestate" of Bill Esenwein {Desert, Jan.,'58). He told me he had been out ofthe U.S.A. for 20 years, and for afew seconds I felt a million miles ofimpenetrable mountains between us.He asked as many questions as heanswered because of his everlasting

S E P T E M B E R , 1958 15

Snakes Are His Friends . . .

Crude sign points to Esenwein's cabin.

quest for the Great Truths, as he callsthem, of all the out-of-doors and itsliving things.

"Who are you and why aren't youafraid of my snakes?" he asked in a

voice that had the melody of theLatins.

"I'm supposed to be asking thequestions," I answered with a laugh."I'm here because of my interest in

We Need Desert Photographs...Because it offers so much sunshine and contrasting shadows;

so many interesting close-ups and intriguing long-range subjectsthedesert is an incomparable photo studio. The pictures you take herecan be of even greater value to you if they are regularly submitted forjudging in Desert Magazine's monthly contests.

Entries for the September contest must be sent to the Desert Maga-zine office. Palm Desert, California, and postmarked not later thanSeptember 18. Winning prints will appear in the November issue.Pictures which axrive too late for one contest are held over for the nextmonth. First prize is $10; second prize $5. For non-winning picturesaccepted for publication $3 each will be paid.

HERE ARE THE RULES1Prints mast be black and white, 5x7 or larger, on glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time and

place. Also technical data: camera, shutter speed, hour ol day, etc.3PRINTS WIL1 BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4Entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contest month.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional photographers. Desert

Magazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from the

desert Southwest.7Judges will be elected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be made

immediately after the close of the contest each month.

Address All Entries to Photo Editor

PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA

the out-of-doors and all the livingcreatures."

Slowly he moved out of the windowand joined me in the yard.

Bili recounted how he had come toArizona because it reminded him ofthe state of Minas Geraes in Brazil.He had made a trip from Brazil in1947 on business, and had found theU.S.A. an interesting study because ofthe many changes which had takenpiace here during the 20 years hespent in the rain forests and savannahsof Brazil.

Bill had difficulty finding his wayaround our impenetrable growth.There were changes in architecture,transportation, marketing, women'sdress and even in their personalities.He was lostnot as he had been lostin the jungle where being lost was apleasurebut lost among people whowere once his own.

So, when homesickness for thejungles and the crystal cleanness ofthe savannahs of central Brazil grewunbearable, he chose Arizona as thecure for the insurmountable.

Stanton, a ghost town a mile and ahalf from Rattlesnake Haven, had pro-vided Bill with the emotional outlet heneeded upon first arriving. Nature wasreclaiming one of man's abandonedfootholds in the wilds, and here Billcould give the world some of the loveand understanding he had learned inthe jungle. Later, he moved to theold shack in which I had found him.

The typewriter perched upon theold apple box, the piles of manuscriptsscattered all over the room somestuck to the walls with thumbtacksindicated that he was busy writingsomething. But what? He sensed myinterest and smiled. "You may lookif you like," he said.

This is what I found: notes, madeover a period of 30 years, of hiswanderingsinformation desirable formany books keen observations onthe differences between our so-calledcivilized way of life and what we con-sider the uncivilized ways of the junglefolk of Brazil.

I was so fascinated that it wouldhave taken a bolt of lightning to callme back. Then I felt something tick-ling ray foot (I was barefooted asusual). Without moving, I lookeddown and there was one of the largestwestern diamondback rattlesnakes Ihad ever seen. He was moving quietlyand slowly across my foot. The light-ning I had needed was there!

The tiny black tongue slid back andforth over my little toe. I was wonder-ing what would come next.

"Stand still!" commanded Bill. Iwatched the "Professor," as Bill hadnamed the snake, slowly move off of

16 DESERT MAGAZINE

my foot, form a coil, quietly lay hishead on his body, and take a nap.Very slowly I backed away from him.He slumbered on.

The rattlesnake man read in my eyesthe question uppermost in my mindhow can man and snake live in peace?

"My faith in God, my faith in Na-ture and my faith in mankind, unitein my sixth sense, sometimes joltedby human elements and the fantasticchanges in civilization over the yearschanges to which I do not and can-not conform," he answered.

"My faith in God has always beenstrengthened by the beauty of His un-limited creations, both animal andfloral. How can one look from thedoor of this shack, listening to theshifting breeze, hearing the symphonyof harmony into which blends eventhe dreaded rattle of the reptile, andnot believe with a faith so great thatone naturally practices the habits ofnis friends around himcleanliness ofmind and bodyand atunes himselfto the symphony?

"1 am alone here and the animalsand reptiles are few. So I am kind toall that by Nature live here. I acceptthem without forcing myself uponthem, and with a great deal of toler-ance on their part they finally acceptedme.

"The mice, rats, lizards and snakesslowly moved in, and as 1 went aboutmy tasks, they heard the tap, tap ofthe old typewriter and their curiositygot the best of them. They just movedin.

"Now you ask: 'But why?' Becausemy sixth sense, or acceptance of allliving creatures that I learned in thejungle. It is an understanding toogreat for the average mind because ofcertain teachings or phobias sincebirth.

"Arizona has the same living beautyas the most floral places of the world.Truth, fairness and everything neededto make the great greater, the kindkinder, the Christian better and moretolerant, can come from observingdaily working and living of His vastout-of-doors. The desert is more mag-nificent than if the greatest of all artistshad painted it. Its beauty of sunsetand sunrise is breathtaking. And duskthe 'quiet time', as we call it inBrazil is the thankful hour. Howcan you, or any other person in thisbeautiful state, refrain from offeringa prayer of thankfulness to Him whomade it so, when the gentle beauty ofdusk turns to evening?

"Do you understand a little of whatI am trying to explain to you? Love,love a great quiet love for every

living creaturean acceptance of theminto our hearts. This is good andclean. It results in a reward of animalfaithfulness to mankind somethingman could not exist without. It isbeautiful and simple if accepted."

The eyes of the rattlesnake manfilled with tears. "But how am I toteach or explain to you how Nature just Nature fulfills most of ourneeds and wants?" he went on. "Youreally need so little for happiness, butyou feel the material world is yoursto conquer, and you lose the true rea-son for being here."

At that moment the Professor, withn satisfied "whur-r-r," captured amouse and his daily bread was pro-vided.

"Do you see what 1 mean?" askedBill. "There are so many worth-whilethings the moderns are missing by nottaking just a second or two to enterinto the kingdom of our animal andfloral world."

"I think I understand," I answered.I've had many hours of contempla-

tion since then over Bill's depth of ex-pression, and 1 find that 1 do under-stand. It would be beneficial to any-one heavy of heart to have a chat withthe rattlesnake man, for he is overflow-ing with interest and wisdom of whatseems to be the unknown to many ofus.

Rattlesnake Haven where Esenwein is writing about his jungle and desert experi-ences and observations.

S E P T E M B E R , 1958 17

i# Palace, Mesa Verde National Park. Photo National Park Service.

TWILIGHT MUSICBy CECELIA FOULKES

Mecca, CaliforniaIn the cool of the desert eveningI sat in a concert hall.Bound was I not by roof or wallFor the great out-of-doors was my all.Musicians still playing since dawnPerforming in endless gay songEach artist his own part was playingA love song, vibrant, ne'er long.Doves softly cooing jn minorReflecting the peace of eve,A peace sublime and healing.All cares it did relieve.A swish overhead ere so fleetingRevealed in the sunset's glowA flock of wild geese was flyingTo a home where great rivers flow.Old cottonwood, haven of bird and beeRustled faintly accompanying a song.While the notes of a sad little phoebeWafted plaintively to my ear.Vesper, evening star in the heavens,Shone bright at the end of day,A signal, it seemed, to all creaturesFor rest and peace for aye.

Mesa VerdeBy GRACE BARKER WILSON

Kirtland, New MexicoThe windows of foresaken homes make darkMysterious eyes against the cliff.Within the walls, the emptiness, with stark,Forgotten tragedies of life, waits stiffWith years, resenting curiosity.Smoke signs and grotesque markings repre-

sentThe final remnants in the historyOf this dead race. The mass abandonmentOf homes that seemed secure from hostile

raids,Stands unexplained in modern reasoning.Their restless memory haunts the long pa-

radesOf visitors, hostile, un si umbering.

OLD TIMERS NEVER DIEBy VIRGIE TIMMONSBarstow, California

They live again in springtime flowers;They speak to us in desert showers;They guard old mines and vanished mills;They call from color-dappled hills;They ride the winds so wild and high

Old Timers never die!

INNER GORGE: GRAND CANYONBy ADELAIDE COKER

Ojai, CaliforniaI shall never forget the soundOf the river's murmurous flow,As it accompanied usTo the floor of the gorge below.

But more, I shall never forgetThe river's color thereLike a thousand mermaids swimmingWith unbound golden hair.

By TANYA SOUTH

Oh, Light of Heaven, hear my prayer:Make mankind care!

Care for the lonely heart, or bleeding;Care for all creatures mercy needing;Care for another. Nothing moreCan so arouse one's highest worth,Or bring so generous a storeOf heaven for us here on earth.

18 DESERT MAGAZINE

Prayer

These adobe walls oj old La Paz, photographed in 1910 by George Rice, meltedto the ground in 1912 when a record flood from the Colorado River overflowed

the site.

Boom Days in Old La Paz . . .By AUDREY MAC HUNTER and

RANDALL HENDERSONMap by Norton Allen

JANUARY day in 1861,Capt. Pauline Weaver, colorfulMountain Man of the mid-1800s,

arrived in the little settlement of Yumaon the lower Colorado River and ex-hibited nuggets of gold found by him-self and his companions 70 miles up-stream wheie they had established acamp for their beaver-trapping opera-tions.

The word quickly spreada goldstrike along the Colorado River. DonJose Redondo heard Weaver's storyand at once set out with others toverify the report, and explore the area.Reaching the Weaver camp membersof the party spread out with gold pansand what water they could carry toprospect the area. Less than a milesouth of Weaver's camp Redondowashed a single pan of gravel thatyielded more than two ounces in smallparticles of gold.

A good showing of color also wasfound by other members of the party.Since they had not come prepared forextensive operations they returned toLa Laguna, a settlement 20 miles up-stream from Yuma, to obtain equip-ment and supplies.

News of their discoveries was car-ried by stage and freight drivers toSan Bernardino and the coast, and inFebruary, 1862, 40 gold-seekers ar-rived at the new placer strike. Theplacer field was named La Paz, adobebuildings soon were under construc-tion on the shore of the river whichbecame a port for boats operatingbetween Yuma and the placer field.

Millions in gold nuggets weretaken from the gravel at La Pazduring its boom days nearly acentury ago. Today the site of theold camp is overgrown with mes-quite and arrowweed, but theghost camp may come to lifeagainas a trading center for therich farm lands owned by theIndians oi the Colorado Riverreservation.

Discoveries were made almost dailyuntil news spread that every gulchand ravine for 20 miles south andeast was rich with gold. Ferra Camp,Campo en Medio, American Camp,Lo Chollos, La Plomosa, and manysmaller places, all had rich diggings.But Ferra Gulch probably was themost valuable of all. News of thesediscoveries soon spread to Sonoraand California and the rush was

on until there were probably 1500prospecting for the fabulous gold.

This number remained until Springof 1864 when the apparent exhaustionof the placers and the extreme highprices charged for provisions causedmany to leave. Most of the minersleft anyway during the extreme heatof summer. Considering that thestandard wages of the country at thistime were $30 to $65 a month withboard, the miners were doing wellworking the mines. It was often saidof that day that "not even a PapagoIndian would work for less than $10a day."

Regarding the yield of the placers,it was common for a man to take morethan $100 in a single day, and it issaid that occasionally the day's workyielded nuggets worth $1000. DonJuan. Ferra took one nugget from hisclaim which weighed 47 ounces.

Another party found a "chipsa"

Where the old adobe walls of La Paz melted away when the river over-flowed in the mining camp site in 1912.

S E P T E M B E R , 1358 19

""

''''-4, V . . - . : >

EH REN BERG ? ARIZONA INSPECTION >.. -., ...' j " STATION . " > ' " "

that weighed 27 ounces, and anotherone of 26 ounces. The contention wasthat a good many of the larger nuggetswere never shown for fear of evilspirits that the superstitious minersfelt haunted the mines. The gold waslarge and generally free of foreignsubstance. The 47-ounce nugget didnot appear to have any quartz or otherforeign matter. The gold did vary alittle as to its worth at the mint inSan Francisco, bringing $17.50 to$19.50 per ounce. However that whichwas sold or taken at the mines wentfor $16 to $17 per ounce. It wasestimated that at least $1 million wastaken from these diggings during thatfirst year, and probably as much morewas taken out in the following years.

As evidence that the La Paz strikeswere rich and money plentiful, pros-pectors were known to pay as much as

two dollars a gallon for water to drinkor to wash gold. This seems incrediblethat water could be so precious withthe ofttimes rampaging Colorado attheir doorsteps. But the river waterwas muddy and men crazed with goldhad no time for digging wells.

Now as to La Paz itself. Tn Spanish,the name means "the peace," probablynamed so because the gold was sup-posed to have been found on January12, the Feast Day of Our Lady ofPeace. Yet the town that sprang upas a trading center for the minerswas anything but peacefulfew min-ing towns were, in those days of freemoney and fevered excitement.

Within a year there were probably5000 people living in La Paz. As inmost early day mining camps, goldwas rated higher than human life bythe gangs of outlaws who invariably

infest boom towns, preying like vul-tures upon the riches of the fand.There was no scarcity of saloons herealthough whisky, the chief beverage,was expensive. Freight rates werehigh; only the most potent liquorseemed worth the price to import. Theriver boats did a thriving businessbringing in supplies from San Fran-cisco by way of Guaymas, and carry-ing the gold out.

At this time the eastern half of theUnited States was occupied with theCivil War, but in the mining camps,the men were content to pan gold andignore the war. Instead of shippingtheir gold east, they sent it by boatdown the gulf to Sinaloa, Mexico, tobe milled and sold.

Most of the camps of Arizona Ter-ritoryWkkenburg, Signal, Prescott,and others, depended on freighters tobring in supplies from the river land-ing at La Paz. Until the establishmentof a military post at La Paz, theIndians had been waylaying theseshipments with a heavy toll of lifeand supplies. If a supply train wastoo big to safety annihilate, the Indi-ans would bargain, taking one of thewagons in exchange for safe passage.It was suicide for a freighter to taketo the trail alone. The army eventried to out-maneuver the Indians byhiring their leaders as scouts or guides,but the plunderings and massacrescontinued.

One day the commanding officer atLa Paz called in a chieftain of theMojaves, and asked why the Indiansdid not settle down and live peaceably.The officer pointed out the advantagesof a life of hunting and ease. Thechieftain seemed not at all impressed.

"Do not white man like to huntquail and deer?" he asked.

The officer admitted this to be true."Indian like to hunt white man,"

replied the chieftain with finality.All through the Civil War La Paz

was one of the most important townsof the territory. At one time it missedby only one vote of being named thecapital city of the Arizona TerritorialGovernment. It was, however, thecounty seat of Yuma County until1870 when the citizens of ArizonaCity (later Yuma) were able to out-vote the citizenry of the mining campand move the county offices down theriver.

Among those who contributed tothe history of La Paz and the territorywas Captain Polhamus who operatedriver boats for 40 years on the Colo-rado. This colorful skipper told ofcarrying fabulous shipments of golddown the river on his boats. Some-times as much as $100,000 in golddust was cached away in bunk mat-

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

One of the old steamers which brought supplies up the river to La Pazlandingand took the gold out to mill and mint.

tresses to protect it from the outlawelement who worked the river. Someof those who made history at La Pazlived to cast their lots with Tomb-stone's lusty existence. Ed Schieffelinis said to have met with his brother,Dick Gard, and O'Gorman here at LaPaz to make plans to work the famedsilver claim at Tombstone.

Most mining camps live only as longas the minerals are there and a marketexists. The life of La Paz was cutshort more by the wiles of a river thanby the law of supply and demand. In1870 the Colorado River, in one ofher temperamental moods, changedher course and left La Paz strandedtwo miles away. A river town withouta river or a landing cannot long re-main a town.. Too, when the mostpromising cropping of gold had beenwinnowed from the gulches and hills,men began turning their faces towardnew horizons. As always where ad-venturous men gather, there are storiesof fabulous strikes waiting for themin the next county or state.

By 1875, when Thomas Blythe hadundertaken the reclamation of 40,000acres in the Palo Verde Valley acrossthe river, the town of La Paz had beenabandoned. The adobe walls of theold mining camp . were still standingin 1911 when the U.S. Land Officemade a survey which established theboundaries of the Colorado River In-dian Reservation adjacent to La Paz.However, in June, 1912, when a rec-ord flood discharge came down theColorado River from its Rocky Moun-tain watershed, the water overflowedthe townsite and the adobes melted tothe ground. Today the site is so over-grown with mesquite and arrowweedsthat it is difficult to identify the exactlocation of old La Paz.

The crude equipment used by theprospectors of the 1860s did not do aclean job of recovering the placer goldin La Paz, and anyone with a goldpan and sufficient interest may get ashowing of color in any of the arroyoswhich once yielded a fortune in nug-gets.

In 1910 a mining man, O, L. Grim-sley, sunk numerous test holes in the

S E P T E M B E R , 1958

gravel and decided that the area couldbe worked profitably with a dredgertype of operation. He formed a com-pany and raised sufficient capital tobuild a large stone reservoir on a hilloverlooking Goodman Wash. His planwas to pump water from the river andbring in a hydraulic dredge. However,Grimsley was killed in an auto acci-dent soon after the reservoir was con-structed, and the plan was nevercarried out.

During the depression days of theearly 1930s when millions were unem-ployed, prospectors who knew aboutthe La Paz placer field returned therewith dry washers and many of themrecovered enough gold from the gravelto keep themselves in grub. One ofthese depression prospectors is said tohave found a $900 nugget which hadbeen overlooked by the old - timeminers.

More recently a mill has been

erected at the edge of the mesa nearthe old La Paz townsite, but its opera-tion was discontinued after a fewmonths.

Goodman Wash and the surround-ing area is dotted with the cairns ofprospectors who have relocated muchof the old placer ground, but at thepresent time there is little activity inthe field.

While the gold of old La Paz hasbeen mostly taken out, the Indians onthe adjacent lands of the ColoradoRiver Indian Reservation have dis-covered that their fertile river bottomlands will produce untold wealth inalfalfa and cotton and vegetable cropsand there is the possibility that be-fore many years a location near thelost ghost townsite of La Paz will beselected for a permanent trading cen-ter to serve the needs of a rich agri-cultural industry.

This mill erected in recent years at the mouth of Goodman Wash near theold La Paz townsite is no longer in operation.

The La Paz area is dotted with the monuments of prospectors who in recentyears have re-staked claims on the old placer field.

The late Rev. Father John Driscoll and Mr. and Mrs. E. V. Staude. Photo byEd. Ellinger.

In a magnificent setting oi redand cream sandstone cliffs nearSedona, Arizona, stands a Catho-lic chapel of such unusual archi-tecture as to attract visitors ol allreligious faiths. The doors of thisimposing place of worship, erectedthrough the vision and resourcesof a California sculptress, are opento all, regardless of creed.

By NELL MURBARGER

5XCEPT FOR the vision anddetermination of a womansculptor, Arizona's Chapel of

the Holy Cross might never have been

22

Regardless of Creedbuilt, and the West would have beenthe poorer by one great religiousshrine.

Situated in the spectacular red rockcountry fringing Oak Creek Canyon,in Coconino County, this strange placeof worship is more impressive than itis beautiful. Its clean, straight linesseem symbolic of peace and innerstrength, and I can't believe that anyChristian person could look throughits high tinted windows to the encir-

cling hills and desert, and not feel agreat surging of reverence and a near-ness to God and His works.

Immediately below and in front ofthe chapel lies Little Horse Park, anatural desert valley, green and flower-filled in spring and early summer, andfading to soft beige and brown as theseason advances. Towering above thevalley, to the south and southwest,stand the red sandstone monoliths ofBell and Courthouse Rocks, and hem-

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

ming its northern edge is a great sand-stone cliff. Lifting nearly sheer to aheight of more than 1000 feet, thisrock rampart shades from dull red atits base to a light cream color whereits rim meets the vivid blue of thedesert sky; and on a red sandstonespur, 150 feet up the side of this cliff,stands the gray chapel.

Viewed from the flat below, thechapel is dominated by its cross.Ninety feet in height and 20 feetbroad, it spans the entire plate glassfront of the building, so that the struc-ture seems to be hung upon it. In away, of course, that is trueactually,as well as symbolically.

In this mighty cross, the world-widesymbol of Christianity, lies the basicidea of this desert house of worship,the reason it was built, and why itdiffers, in an architectural sense, fromany religious edifice which has pre-ceded it.

Although this Chapel of the Holy

Cross would not come into being untilnearly a quarter of a century later,the incident that inspired its ultimateconstruction occurred in New YorkCity, in 1932, when the Empire StateBuilding had been but recently com-pleted. Marguerite Brunswig Staude,California sculptress who was in NewYork at that time, was one day con-templating this building when she sawthat in a certain light a Christian crossseemed to impose itself through thevery heart of the structure. As shestudied that optical illusion, she wasstruck suddenly by a thought, "Whatan idea for a church!"

For days the idea haunted Mrs.Staude and seemed to insist on takingform, so that finally, using a few boldstrokes, she made a rough sketch ofsuch a church. Later, when the Cali-fornia woman showed this sketch toFrank Lloyd Wright, world famousarchitect, he too was struck by theidea and proceeded to build a model

with articulated cross, the structurebeing planned to encircle one full cityblock. This imposing plan was ac-cepted in 1937, but construction ofthe church on a hill overlooking theDanube, at Budapest, was cut shortby the outbreak of World War II.

Although heartsick that the churchshe had envisioned had fallen a casu-alty of the war, Mrs. Staude refusedto relinquish her dream. Even thoughit were necessary to settle for a build-ing only a fraction as large as thechurch planned by Wrightand eventhough she must personally pay thecost of its constructionshe was de-termined that her unusual idea for achurch should be put to use.

Meanwhile, the Oak Creek Canyoncountry of central Arizona was becom-ing well known to Mrs. Staude, whohad established a summer home on asmall ranch a short distance south ofSedona. With an abundance of spec-tacular sites in the near environs, the

Chapel of the Holy Cross in the red rock country oj Oak Creek Canyon inArizona. Photo by A. J, Randolph.

California woman began prospectingthe area for a location suitable to thepurpose she had in mind. With helpof the architectural firm of Anshenand Allen, Mrs. Staude eventuallychose a twin-pinnacled spur as thepedestal upon which to plant the crossof her church.

Since the chosen site was in thepublic domain its acquisition posednumerous difficulties, but with the aidof Senator Barry Goldwater a deed tothe site and permission to build uponit at last came through, and architec-tural plans were completed in 1954,Submitted to Bishop Bernard T. Espe-lage, of Gallup, New Mexico, head ofthe Roman Catholic diocese in charge

crete comprising its walls had hard-ened, and the wooden frames had beenremoved, both exterior and interiorwalls were meticulously sandblasteduntil every pebble touching upon eitherface of the wall was left standing inbas-relief and half polished.

Entrance to the chapel is madethrough a pair of narrow doors, morethan four times the height of an aver-age man. Made of bronze-finishedaluminum, these doors are fitted withhorn handles specially designed torepresent the Chalice, and are balancedand hung so perfectly that the pressureof a fingertip is sufficient to open orclose them. The altar is of blackmarble, and the entire front and rear

Marguerite Staude arrives with church members for the dedication of theChapel. Courthouse and Bell Rocks in the background. Photo by Ed.

Etlinger.

of the Sedona area, the proposedchapel was officially approved andground was broken in April, 1955.

One year later the completed chapelwas presented by Mrs. Staude to theRoman Catholic Church as a memor-ial to her parents, the late Lucien andMarguerite Brunswig. Its cost hadbeen approximately a quarter of a mil-lion dollars.

As a result of exhaustive forethoughtand planning, the chapel is well inte-grated with its setting even rockcutting having been held to a minimumby shaping the base of the structure tofit the natural conformation of thecliff. On this bedrock foundationstands a steel - and - cement buildingscarcely less rugged than the moun-tain to which it clings. After the con-

of the building is composed of plate-glass tinted to the shade of smokyquartz. From within the building, thissmoke tint reduces the brilliant lightof the desert to a soft twilight, whileoutside the building, that same tintingserves to mirror the surrounding redcliffs and pinnacles.

Dominating the chapel is the cross.Towering 90 feet from the naturalrock foundation to the apex of thebuilding, it is the only decorative mo-tif on the entire front of the structure.Within the building, of course, thatsame massive cross supports the bodyof the crucified Christ.

Judged by comments in the guestregister, no other feature of the chapelis as controversial as this symbolicfigure designed by San Francisco

sculptor Keith Monroe. Thirteen feetin height and disproportionately thin,the Corpus is wrought of black ironworked with an acetylene torch, anddepicts The Christ as horribly emaci-ated and in frightful agony.

Although the inscribed comments ofmany visitors show definite dislike andeven abhorrence of this piece of sculp-ture, the American Institute of Archi-tects, in 1957, saw fit to recognize thework by rewarding its designer witha special citation for sculpture, at thesame time conferred Awards of Hon-or upon all those responsible for de-signing and erecting the chapel, in-cluding Anshen and Allen, architects;the Bishop of Gallup, owner; WilliamSimpson Construction Company, con-tractors; Marguerite Staude, donor;and Robert B. Dewell, structural en-gineer.

Despite its massive appearance, thebuilding is relatively smallits per-manent pews being adequate to seatonly 50 persons, while folding chairsmay be employed to increase the seat-ing capacity to 150. During Sundayservices, visitors find it advisable tohalt their cars on the wide flat directlybelow the chapel, from which point itis only a short walk to the chapel. Notonly is this short length of road rathernarrow and twisting, but the parkingarea at which it terminates is onlylarge enough to accommodate eightor ten vehicles. From this upperparking area, a curving ramp leadsupward to the chapel, and at thelower entrance of this ramp is a smallsign warning that cameras may notbe used beyond that point. Until Ilearned the reason for it, this rulingimpressed me as rather strange.

According to Frank Murray, cus-todian of the chapel at the time of myfirst visit there, in 1957, photographerswere originally welcome to make pic-tures at the chapel; but, as always,there was a small percentage of visitorswho abused that privilege. Not onlydid these inconsiderate persons makeflash pictures of the interior whenholy services were in progress, butphotographers for several advertisingcompanies actually began utilizing thechapel as a spectacular backgroundfor filming shorts-clad models whowere being used to advertise virtuallyeverything from cigarettes to beer!

"In order to avoid unpleasant en-counters and inevitable arguments withthis brazen minority, we had to adoptthe 'no pictures' rule," said Mr. Mur-ray.

First pastor of the chapel was theRev. John Driscoll who died in July,1957, at the age of 36 years. Follow-ing Father Driscoll's death, which was

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

due to a heart condition that hadbothered him since his seminary days,the pastorate passed to the Rev. JohnF. Degnan, who holds Mass at thechapel each Sunday morning and alsoofficiates at Catholic services in thenearby towns of Cottonwood andClarkdale.

In addition to Sedona Catholics, thechapel draws attendance from Flag-staff, Prescott and even Phoenix, andduring all seasons of the year is at-tended by transient visitors from otherstates.

Not all these visitorsand not allSedonansare agreed that the chapelserves to enhance the beauty of itscanyonside setting. This difference ofopinion is quite understandable in viewof the fact that the architectural styleof the chapel is different from prac-tically anything any viewer has seenpreviously, and criticism has been thelot of every architectural innovationsince the first troglodyte quit his cavedwelling and began construction of ahome having four walls and a roof.

In the field of professional designersand builders, however, the plan of thechapel has met with general approval.Of the technical evaluations of thebuilding, one of the most intelligibleto a layman is that published in theOctober, 1956, issue of The Archi-tectural Record, of New York City.

". . . Beyond the ability of wordsto describe its achievement, this build-ing can speak to the mind and spiritregarding place and time and pur-pose," stated The Record. "It has theability to suggest today, both yester-day and tomorrow . . . a transcendentintegration which seems to draw itsstrength from its location.

"The chapel does not seem both-ered by the problem of scale. It doesnot seem called upon to feign modesty,or to bow to the hills in feeble imita-tion. Nor does it try for self-asser-tiveness in the manner of a bantamrooster. It seems rather to appreciateits magnificent setting and react likea well-mannered guest."

I like those excerpts from TheArchitectural Record, and I also likethe closing words of a statement madeby Marguerite Brunswig Staude. Thatstatement, now beautifully hand-let-tered, framed, and hung on one of theinterior walls of the chapel, is con-cluded with this paragraph:

"Though Catholic in faith, as awork of art this chapel has a universalappeal. Its doors will ever be opento one and all, regardless of creed.That the Church may come to life inthe soul of men and be a living reality. . . herein lies the whole message ofthis chapel."

"He Was a Good Man..."Herbert Marten was a plain little man, but he had a big heart

filled with love for the primitive tribesmen of the Pima reservation a halfcentury ago. Here is the story of a man whose memory is still held inreverence by the people he befriended.

By MARY GEISLER PHILLIPS

7HE TRAIN from Phoenixstopped at Sacaton Siding inthe middle of the night and myhusband and I, the only passengers toalight, stepped off into the blacknessof the Gila River Valley desert. Asour eyes became accustomed to thefaint starlight, we saw the outline ofa small shed which was the station,where we were to be picked up atdaylight by the mysterious HerbertMarten, whom we had come 2000miles to see. He would bring a cartdrawn by a cow pony to take us to thePima Indian reservation, where helived. We sat on our suitcases andwaited for daybreak.

Slowly the midnight blue sky wassuffused by an eerie opal light whichgradually revealed a squat frame build-ing a short distance away. A man,coming out the door with a broom,hailed us.

"Great Caesar's ghost! Where didyou drop from? Come in! Come in!"and he hastened to us and picked upboth suitcases. "Mollie," he shouted,"we have company for breakfast!"

Before we had time to explain, wewere seated at the table with a cupof coffee before us and two interestedspectators opposite. When we men-tioned that we were to be picked upby Herbert Marten, they looked ateach other and put down their cups.

The burly man cleared his throatbefore speaking, then, taking his pipefrom his mouth, he said slowly:

"I'm sorry to tell you, mister, butMarten died a week ago. Buried onFriday." And then his wife, Molly,went on to tell us the strange story ofHerbert Marten, who seven years be-fore had appeared out of the bluewith a tent and a rucksack, at the doorof the Pima Indian agency. He wasa miniature man, scarcely five feet tall,mousy hair, blue eyes, school girl com-plexion, and he spoke with a heavyBritish accent. He was dressed inBritish tweeds.

He asked the agent, F. A. Mack-ery, if he could pitch his tent on thegrounds of the reservation. The agentassented but was surprised when hesaw Marten putting up his tent nearthe Indian huts, instead of close to thefew houses of the white men besidehis office. Marten apparently had somemoney, and after looking the ground

over, and becoming acquainted withthe few white families at the agencyand the neighboring Indians, he openedthe small store at the Siding.

Our acquaintance with Marten haddated back to the time when my hus-band, Everett Franklin Phillips, wasin the U.S. Department of Agriculturein Washington in the early part of thecentury. He was amused to receive aletter from Sacaton Siding in Arizona,saying that Marten knew nothing what-ever about beekeeping, but he wishedto learn all about the subject in orderto help the Pima Indians on the reser-vation where he lived.

Teaching beekeeping by mail seemedrather formidable to my husband, buthe was young and enthusiastic and heundertook the job. Letters passedback and forth furiously and Frankbecame deeply interested in this man,who had the Indians' welfare so muchat heart. The letters became more andmore friendly, and Frank sometimesbrought one home for me to read.This man was witty; and he had awarm heart; he was evidently well edu-cated; and he lapped up informationlike a vacuum cleaner.

In one letter he told how his inter-est in beekeeping began. "I oftenwander in the mountains alone," hesaid, "and one day I stumbled onbees going in and out of a hole in atree. I felt sure that hollow tree heldplenty of honey, so I hastened backfor an axe, and returned with it andwith a few Indian friends. We hadno way of protecting ourselves fromstings, but, enduring them as best wecould, we cut down the tree andchopped into the trunk. We were re-warded with five or six gallons of mostdelicious honey. The Indians had pre-viously been afraid of these whiteman's flies, but now they begged meto find more bee trees. I told them Iwould do better than that. I wouldfind out from the U. S. governmenthow to tame them so that they couldhave their own honey year after year.That's when I began writing to you."

Our kindly host told us Marten soldfood and all sorts of household sup-plies at a very moderate price at hisshop, and sold the Indians' rriesquitewood, basketry, and pottery for themin Phoenix without commission. Soonthe Indians trusted him. They would

S E P T E M B E R , 1958 25

drop into his store just to sit silentlyin friendliness most of the time, fas-cinated by everything he did. To theirastonishment, he learned their lan-guage, something no other white withwhom they had contact, had botheredto do. Gradually Herbert Marten be-came their friend and mentor, some-one to whom they could come withtheir troubles. And before the firstyear was out, Marten was stationagent, telephone operator, postmaster,deputy sheriff, and general advisor.

A Pima considered himself well offif he owned two cows. The desertcountry could not be cultivated with-out tremendous labor, and there waslittle other work for Indians unlessthey made the journey to Phoenix.Most of them led a frustrated, lazylife, depending on the agent for thelittle they had.

One day Marten saw a cow killedby a train. When the Indian ownercame in distress to tell of his loss,Marten said:

"Don't worry. I'll help you makeout your claim for damages. Thenyou can buy another cow."

The Indian shook his head. "Nodamages for Indian. White man, yes,but Indian, no."

"We'll see," replied Marten cheer-fully. "The right of way through thevillage should be fenced. You are en-titled to the money."

A few days after the claim was putin, an indignant representative of therailroad came to Marten's store. Hegrumbled that if one claim for an In-dian's cow was paid, soon all the In-dians would be driving their cows onthe track and claiming damages.

"No." Marten shook his head. "Iwill guarantee that will not happen.But so long as the railroad does notfence that right of way through thevillage, accidents are sure to happen,and an Indian is as entitled to put ina claim as a "white""man." The claimwas paid.

After more cows had been killedand claims paid, one day the railroadofficial came storming into Marten'sstore. He shouted:

"If this paying of Indians doesn'tstop, somebody's going to get fired!"

"What for?" asked Marten mildly,as he went on weighing out a poundof sugar for a customer.

"Because someone's showing thesedamned Indians how to make outtheir claims. I won't stand for it!"

Marten drew himself up to his fullfour feet, eleven inches. He slammeddown the one pound weight in hishand, and stretched his arms their fulllength along the counter as he leanedforward.

"Why, you pin - headed, knock-

kneed, son of a blister, you! I helpedthem!"

"You fool, aren't you working forthe railroad? That's a fine way tolook out for the company's interests!You'll hear from this!" He stampedout, banging the door.

And Marten did hearhe was firedas station agent. When the Indianslearned that he had lost that job, theirleader went to the U.S. Agent andtold him the story. Mr, Mackery sentfor Marten and offered him a clerk-ship in his office.

"We need you here," he said."Every Indian on this reservation re-gards you as his special friend. Youtalk their language. You stand up fortheir rights. I don't know your his-toryso far as I know you neverreceive or send a letterand I don'twant to know your background. ButI do know that in the year you've beenwith us, you've done a lot to help thePimas. They're more ambitious, more

self-respecting, since you came. Youeven visit them in their homes, don'tyou?"

"Of course!" Marten replied. "Theyare the truest friends I ever had. I'lltake the job gladly." So wheneverthe Superintendent had a new plan toput before the Indians he would ex-plain it all to Marten. Then Martenwould go off for a day or two amongthe Indians and talk to them about it.When he came back he could assurethe Superintendent that he could goahead.

Now, with the help of Indianfriends, Marten built himself an adobehouse with a porch all around it. Hesent away for books and a comfortablebed and chair. He worried over thelow living standards among his friends,and finally hit upon chicken-raising asa new means of livelihood for them.He knew nothing about any phase offarming, but he sent to Washingtonfor free government bulletins, andsoon he had a few White Leghornchickens. The Indians also beganraising chickens, under his teaching.When he changed to Rhode IslandReds, soon that breed was scratchingaround the doorsteps of the Indianhuts. Whatever Marten learned, theylearned from him and copied faith-fully.

Besides teaching the Indians howto enlarge their fanning interests, andhow to become better farmers, Martentaught the girls and boys how to playcricket and baseball. He was alwaysready for a game with them. Also heencouraged the women to work at theirnative crafts and the products he soldfor them in Phoenix.

Then one day after playing ball,Marten sat in the wind in his sweat-soaked clothes, caught pneumonia, andin three days was dead. On his death-bed, he gave the government agent thename and address of an uncle to noti-fy. When the end came, a telegramwas sent asking what disposal theuncle wished made of the body.

Before a reply arrived, a young In-dian came to the reservation office,with the request that Marten might beburied in the Indian burial ground out-side of Sacaton. The Pimas wishedto provide the coffin and have himburied in Indian fashion. The agenttold them that if they wanted to drawup a petition asking the uncle for thebody, he would forward their request.He thought a few hundred Indiansmight sign such a petition, but in twodays there were more than 1500 signa-tures and more than enough money tobuy the best coffin in Phoenix. An-other wire was sent to the uncle andback came the reply, "Glad somebodycared for Herbert Marten. Let theIndians have their way."

To Sacaton, on the day of burial,came hundreds of Indians from allparts of the reservation, and withouta sound but the shuffling of moccasinedfeet, and the clop, clop of the cowpony drawing the cart, they movedslowly to the edge of town to the smallcemetery. Most of the graves thereare mere mounds of earth, but onechief's grave is marked by a surround-ing row of white stones, another by awooden cross. The one grave thatstands out among them is made ofcement, a flat slab raised into a head-stone at one end. On the flat part islettered crudely as if with a twig, thename "Herbert Marten."

In 1951, my husband and I visitedthat burial ground in the company ofan aged Indian, Kisto Morogo. Hetouched the headstone reverently withhis veined brown hand and his eyesfilled with tears.

"He was a good man! He was agood man!"

"Did you know him well?" askedmy husband. He nodded.

"I delivered the funeral oration. Iwas a young man then."

Silently we turned away. On theroad back to town, we saw hensscratching around doorways, and sil-houetted against the intense blue ofthe sky was a row of beehives.

26 DESERT MAGAZINE

ON DESERT TRAILS WITH A NATURALIST -- LIII

Water for Wildlifein an Arid Land

Why do birds and animals andinsects which, like human beings,must have an ample supply ofwater to survive make their homesin the arid lands where water isso scarce? It is a proper questionto ask, and Dr. Jaeger this monthgives some of the answers.

By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of Plants

Riverside Municipal Museum

FOR A few so-calledexotic rivers such as the Colo-rado, the Nile and the Euphra-

tes which originate in the cool moistmountain highlands and flow long dis-tances across the parched deserts,few streams or freshwater lakes of anyimportance exist in arid lands. Waterfor many of the desert's mammals andbirds for the most part must be gottenfrom minor streamlets and waterholesfound in co