desert magazine 1937 december

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GIVE. . .A Year of Pleasure...to your desert-loving friendsat Christmas time.

. . . with a year's subscrip-tion to the

DESERT MAGAZINE

We are more than gratified at the enthusiastic and en-couraging response which you and your neighborsexpressed when the Desert Magazine was placed onsale for the first time last month. We are convinced thatyou are proud of the magazine and that you like to

show it to your friends.

Personality

Science

History

Travelogs

Development

Hobbies

Nature

Mining

Fiction

Homes

Books

Comment

. . . and many

other features

each month.

You can find no better gift expressing the spirit of the desert you love than asubscription to this magazinesent to your friend at Christmas time.On receipt of your subscription remittance we will send an acknowledge-ment to you and we will prepare a gift card which will arrive at your friend'saddress at Christmas time.

Just print or typewrite the names on a sheet of paper, together with yourname as donor and send it with your check to the DESERT MAGAZINE,El Centre Calif.

ONE SUSCRIPTION (Regular rate), yearMailed in the United States or possessions.

TWO or more GIFT SUBSCRIPTIONS, each one yearYour own subscription may be included in this combinationrate. Foreign subscriptions, add 40 cents each.

.$2.50

T H E "PiPlLm z i n E


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DESERT

(i&lendatfor December

Civic groups in the desertarea are invited to use this col-umn for announcing fairs, ro-deos , convent ions and otherevents which have more thanmere local interest . Copy mustreach the Deser t Magazine bythe 5th of the month precedingpubl ica t ion . There is no c harg efor these announcements .

NOV. 16 to DEC. S--Twenty-dayopen season for elk hunters inArizona. Limited to 300 resi-dent and 50 non-resident per-mits.

NOV. 27 to DEC. 26Thirty-dayopen season for ducks and othermigratory waterfowl in Arizonaand Southern California. Limit10 ducks and 5 geese.

NOV. 25, 26, 27, 28Rodeo and'49 Celebration to be held atChandler, Arizona.

NOV. 30Thirty-day season forducks, geese and other migra-tory waterfowl closes in Nevada.

DEC. 3Paul R. Frank of theNational Park service at MesaVerde, to speak at the HeardMuseum in Phoenix. This isone of the lecture series arrangdfor the winter months by Mrs.W. K. James, chairman of themuseum program committee.

DEC. 5Colt show to be held atYuma, Arizona, as a prelimi-nary to the annual Horse Showto be held in the spring. Eventwill be open for weanlings,yearlings and two-year-olds.

DEC. 12Guadalupe Day festivi-

ties to be observed at Santa Feand various pueblos in NewMexico.

DEC. 15Closing date for quailhunters in Arizona.

DEC. 18, 19Sierra Club of Cali-fornia to have weekend programat Dead Indian canyon nearPines-to-Palms highway in Coa-chella valley. Dr. Marko J.Petinak, leader.

DEC. 30Season closes for quailhunters in all California desert

areas.

Vol. 1 DECEMBER, 1937 No. 2

COVER

CALENDARPOETRY

LETTERSARCHEOLOGY

CHRISTMASNATURE

HISTORY

TRAVELOG

HOBBY

ART

CRAFT

MINING

PERSONALITY

LANDMARKSHOME

FICTION

PHOTOGRAPHYBOOKSNEWSCOMMENT

Native palm tree in Borego Badlands, SouthernCalifornia. Photo by Hetzel, El Centro.

Future eve nts in the dese rt country 1Paradox

NINA PAUL 2Comm ent from Desert M agaz ine read ers 3"Lost City" of the Ancients to Vanish Again

in Lake MeadJOHNS HA RRING TON .. . 4With Juan Bautista de An za in 1775 6This Little Shrub Needs a Friend

DON ADMIRAL 7Gold Builds a Road

J. WIL SON McKENNEY 8Palms That Grow in the Mud Hills

RANDALL HENDERSON 10Milking Time for the Rattlers

LARRY D. WO LMA N 12Be-Zhosie

Photo by W. M. PENNINGTON 13Men Who Carve Dolls and Dance With Ser-

pentsWILLIAM DAVID STEWART 14Trucks Rumble Again at Clifton and Morenci

JONA THA N BART 16He Links Steel Age With Stone Age

JOHN STEWART MacCLARY 18Who Knows Wh ere This Cabin Is Lo ca ted ? . . . 23Adobe Home Typifies True Western Design

JAMES GERRALD 26Sez Hard Rock Shorty

LON GARRISO N 27Prize Contest for Pho tog rap her s 27Past an d Presen t Literature of the Desert 29Here an d There on the Desert 30

Just Between You and MeTHE EDITOR 32

The Desert Magazine Is published monthly by Randal Henderson and J. Wilson McKenney, aco-partnership, at 597 State Street, El Centro, Califor nia. App lication for entry as second classmatter is pending.

Title re gistere d, contents copy righte d 1937 by Randall Henderson and J. Wilson McKenney.Permission to reprodu ce contents must be secured from the ed itor in writin g. Subscription rate$2.50 a year. Copy 25 cents.

Editor: Randall HendersonBusiness Man ager: J. Wilson M cKenneyAdvertising Manager: Fred Kraft, Jr.

National Advertising Representatives: S. H. WilliamsChicago, New York.

Co., Inc., Los Angeles, San Francisco,

Manuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied with full return postage. TheDesert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although

due care will be exercised for their safety.Notice of change of address should be received by the circulation department the first of themonth preceding issue.

D e c e m b e r , 1 9 3 7


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PARADOXBy NINA PAUL

Coachella, California

So strange this vast unlonely solitude;Primeval force in every wayward mood;A land not clothed with grass, not graced by wood.Man cries, "O Desert, by what unknown artDo you ens nare a nd thrall the human heart?"

His voice is lost in boundless windswept space;Blank, burning mystery enshrouds the faceOf naked rock and blinding, sun-struck sand.Man prays, "O Desert, let me understand "

Sphinx-like the Desert smiles as it unlocksIts open secret found in paradox:Passionate calm and a silence that singsOf the peaceful conflict of growing things.Pastels of beauty wrought in harsh design;Raw youth deep-scarred by age in every line;Eternal drama, patient, fierce, serene,With Life and Death co-starred on cosmic screen.Man laughs, though tears are in his light-hurt eyes.He whispers, "Desert, you have made me wiseYour lure is my own yearning in disguise."I know from this one glimpse behind your mask,My answer is the question that I ask."

Photo by Hetzel, El Centra


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n If the enthusiasm of its readers is a fair gauge, the success of thenew Desert Mag azine is assure d beyond an y doubt. Since thefirst issue came off the press a month ago many hundreds ofletters ha ve be en received. The response h as exce eded the fond-est hop es of the publishers . Almost without exception these lettersexpressed a ppro val. A few of them contained suggestions a ndconstructive criticismand these were equally welcome. Beloware printed extracts from just a few of the letters.

Los Angeles, Oct. 8Say Boys:

You have started something. I likeit. Keep it up. I am an old desert ratsince 1882all over the Mojave desert.Drove 28 mules for nine months whena kid. If I can help let me know.

FRED H. SKINNER

Phoenix Oct. 21Dear Editor:

I read your first issue of the DesertMagazine with a great deal of pleasure

and found that it will make grandChristmas presents for my family backin Michigan who seem to be under theimpression that I am living in a placethat is cross between the Sahara desertand the South Sea islands, and I feelthat thru your magazine they will atleast get a hazy if not a good idea ofthis interesting country.

CLAIRE MEYER PROCTOR

Pomona, Oct. 12My dear Mr. Henderson:

Congratulations. The "Desert" maga-

zine is a healthy youngster and withproper nourishment should mature in afew months into the first real authenticsentinel of the desert and its environs.

I do not know how long you havebeen a son of the desert. You have,however, received the baptism suffi-ciently to understand the desert omen.Always be willing to listen to those wholive on the desert. The trail is littleunderstood and seldom traveled bythose with no heart, but to those whohave battled sandstorms, the rain, thewinds and snowonly those know thecall of the desert and can appreciatethe thunder of silence from Picacho'speak or the western slopes of the SanFranciscos at Flagstaff, or the soft ruffleof a desert twister at Tuba City.

JAMES E. SELLERS

San Diego, Oct. 15My dear Sirs:

I have just received your Novemberissue of "The Desert Magazine" andmust say that it is a gem. From thefrontispiece to the last page I find it notonly interesting but instructive. I amvery much taken with the atmosphere

you create for the dear old west, whichW. B. GEORGE

PARK DIRECTORLIKES MAGAZINE

Arno B. Cammerer (right), Di-rector of the National Park Serv-ice, pauses with Park Ranger DonErskine to read the first edition ofthe Desert Magazine. The menstand beside the C asa Grande ruins,one of the oldest Indian habitationsin the Southwest. Near the ruinsare the headquarters of the manynational monuments in the Ari-zona-New Mexico area.

Gentlemen:Wilmar, Cal., Oct. 21

First copy received and explored.Fine We are proud of it. The firstcut on page 5 may be considered grimand desolate but to us desert-mindedindividuals it is nothing short of allur-ing. Some day I am going to write apoem to prove that you are absolutelywrong in saying Steve Ragsdale is theworld's worst poet.

GEO. A. STINGLE

Dear Editor:El Cajon, Cal, Oct. 20

Say If you fellows are only ama-teurs in the editing business I feelsorry for your competitors when youreal ly learn how to do it right. In thefirst issue you struck a pace whichmany of the old quality slicks will havetrouble keeping up with. You havesounded a note which I feel must findresponse over a wide field. Congratu-

lations and my heartiest wishes for yoursuccess.VOLLIE TRIP?

Guerneville, Cal.. Oct. 18Gentlemen:

Your magazine in my opinion iswonderful. I enjoyed it verv muchuntil I read "The mechanic forgot toput water in the battery ." At that pointmy blood began to boil. You see I ama mechanic. Now we mechanics getmuch undeserved abuse from the publicwithout need for advertisement. I wouldlike to wring the neck of that mechanicyou spoke of for disgracing the clan.And yet I don't see how it happened.

In all my experience I have found thata mechanic who receives good wagesdoes not forget.

I hope you will take this bit of criti-cism in good spirit. And now that itis off my chest I can enjoy the maga-zine. It is even so good that it will off-set the little remark about the mechanic.

CECIL EDWARDS

Los Angeles, Oct. 14Gentlemen:

In your first issue of the Desert Mag-

azine Lillian Bos Ross describes her ex-perience in securing a drink frombarrel cactus which she says was"sweet." I for one, object to the glori-fication of Ferocactus as source of deli-cious sweet water ever available forthirsty travelers in the deserts of theSouthwest. . . .

One of the articles in an easternmagazine with a large circulation goesfarther than does Mrs. Ross. I quote:"The origin of the name barrel cactuscomes from the capacity of the Visnaga(Mexican for barrel cactus) which con-tains about one barrel of water each,and the desert is dotted with kegs andbarrels of wholesale water standingaround in the form of plants in plainview of thirsty animals and lost travel-ers."

Now doesn't that take the horror outof the desert? One would gather thatall that is needed to complete the pic-ture is glasses, a bar, and a brass footrail to make the desert a paradise forthe heavy drinker.

I want the Desert Magazine to makea success of it and anything I can doto assist is yours for the asking.

Truly yours,G. A. FRICK

D e c e m b e r , 1 9 3 7


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Burrowing into the sandhillsof Southern Nevada, arche-ologists have uncovered thehomes and utensils of a thriv-ing Indian civilization whichexisted 300 or 400 years beforeColumbus discovered America.

Now the rising waters of LakeMead are about to submergethe Lost City and remove itpermanently from the field ofresearch . But in the meantimethe men of science have un-covered a wealth of interestingfacts about these ancient tribes-men. The highlights of theirdiscoveries are presented inthis story by Johns Harrington,son of the archeologist incharge of the excavations.

*Jlo5t of) the -flncientito l/anilh tJaain in Jlake MeadARROW-MAKER sat down on aboulder and looked to the east

across the Valley of the Lost Citywhere the pueblos of his people dimlywere outlined in the distance.

Lizard-Digger, the Indian's lean dog.whined. He wanted to go home. Theyhad been away for nearly a week. Theyhad gone to Atlatl rock in the nearbyValley of Fire where his master hadbeen praying to the Rain and ThunderSpirits, and writing picture messages tothe tribal deities on the canyon walls.

Lizard-Digger had caught rabbits andother small creatures for food. Arrow-Maker had fasted to make his prayersmore acceptable to the Gods. When he

returned he would take part in therituals to be held in the circular under-ground roomsthe kivas. Sand-paint-ings of clouds and lightning, and stonesbearing the painted emblems of fertilecrops, would surround the altars.

Arrow-Maker's people lived in one-story houses of stone and adobe, scat-tered along the foothills on either sideof the valley for a distance of five miles.Many of the tribesmen were wealthyand the members of their clans weregrouped together in apartment-likestructures built around circular courts,some containing as many as 100 rooms.

Mesquite, willow, arrowweed and saltbushes covered this Nevada vallev save

By JOHNS HARRINGTON

where the Indians had cleared the landto grow cotton, corn, beans and squash.Meandering along the length of the val-ley was a sluggish river, checked by anoccasional brush dam built for irriga-tion purposes. These dams were madeby driving stakes into the mud of theriver bottom, then piling brush on theup-river side. Rocks weighted downthe brush and the level of the water wasraised enough to start small streamsflowing along irrigation ditches.

Primitive Tools UsedArrow-Maker recalled how difficult

it was to rebuild the irrigation sys-

tems every spring after the winterfloods had destroyed those of the previ-ous year. The dams were easy enoughto replace, but excavation work for theditches was not so simple. It was neces-sary to loosen the ground with diggingsticks, then transfer it laboriously withtortoise-shell scoops into large basketsto be carried away.

The Indian youth and his dog re-sumed their journey. As they ap-proached the pueblos the trail some-times crossed the irrigation canals andran through fields of maize, with beanvines clinging to the corn stalks. Theypassed little patches of cotton andsquash along the way.

Arrow-Maker soon reached his home,the house of his mother, for amongthese people it was customary for thewomen to own the property. Arrow-Maker's father was head of one of thereligious societies, and was therefore amember of the governing council of thevillage. The pueblo people of thatperiod probably had no civil govern-mentfor it should be known that thescene presented here is the archeolo-gist's concept of a civilization which ex-isted approximately 800 A.D.

"Is there food in our house for yourfamished son?" asked the Indian youthas he greeted his mother.

"Yes, my son. Your brother has re-

turned from the hills with the meat ofdeer and mountain sheep. There will befeasting in our house for many days."

Among the tribes of the Valley of theLost City the men not only werehunters, but they built the dwellinghouses, planted and watered the fields,and spun and wove the cotton. Thewomen prepared the food and madepottery and baskets. They also dressedthe skins and gathered the natural foodsupply from mesquite trees and the na-tive grasses.

"Where is our father?" asked Arrow-Maker a little later when he entered thecourtyard and saw his sister, Basket-Woman, grinding meal in the shade of

The DESERT MAGAZINE


7/36

UPPERM. R. Harrington, archeolo-gist in charge of excavations at LostCity, with Willis Evans, Indian foremanof the CCC digging crew, at field head-

quarters in Nevada.

CENTERFay Perkins of the NationalPark .service who is in charge of theLost City museum at Overton, Nevada.

Perkins is a practical archeologist.

LOWERRelics of a human burial justas they were found beneath several feet

of earth at Lost City by the excavators.Photos Courtesy Southwest Museum

a brush shelter within the circular en-closure.

"He has gone to the salt mines wherethe small river joins the big one," shereplied. "Oth ers went with him as theyhave need of much salt. Trad ers from

the tribes beyond the western mountainsnear the great water have brought elk-horns and abalone and olivella shells toexchange for our salt."

Crude was the mining of those In-dians who lived in the Nevada desertthree or four centuries before Columbusdiscovered the Americas, but effectivenone the less. Torches made with barkand arrowweed and fine sticks lightedthe salt caverns. Notched stone ham-mers attached to wooden handles wereused to break down the white crystalsfrom the cavern walls.

Basket-Woman was dressed in thegarb of the tribe. A dress woven ofcotton and dyed a purplish colorreached her knees, and around her waistwas a cotton belt with designs of redand black. Her hair was tied in twoknots, one on each side of her head.

The pre-historic dwellers of Lost Citywere short of stature and slender, withround heads and long black hair. Bothmen and women wore fiber sandals.The men probably picked out theirsparse beards one bristle at a time, andaccepted the pain with the stoicism of

their race.Arrow-Maker wore a white cottonbreech clout, or sometimes a kilt. Both

were held in place with a waist cordmade up of many cotton strings looselytwisted together. He wore a headbandsimilar to his sister's belt, but narrower,with a fringe on its lower edg e Blan-kets of cotton or woven of furry stripsof rabbit skin were used for additionalcovering during cold weather.

A daughter-in-law of the clan enteredthe courtyard as Arrow-Maker was talk-ing with his sister. She carried her in-fant son on a cradle-board on her back.The back of the baby's head wouldsoon show a slight deformation as a re-

sult of beiim lashed to the board forlong- intervals.Turn to page 25

D e c e m b e r , 1 93 7


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9/36

For the Christmas mo-tif, the Desert has its ownquaint little Holly bush.It thrives on salty land but is losing ground in its

battle to survive the dep-redations of thoughtlesshuman beings.

b Jlitt

A/eedi a TtiendBy DON ADMIRAL

Desert Scientist of Palm Springs

F ROM the alkaline soils of the arid region comes abeautiful symbol of Christmas spiritthe Desert Holly.Christmas, for most persons, is associated with snow

storms, sleigh bells, frigid weather and the stoking of fires.But in the desert land Christmas is associated with snowon the distant peaks, the songs of migratory birds, warmsunshine and perhaps a fire on the hearth when the sun

sinks below the western horizon at Christmas Eve.A green holly wreath adorned with red berries and tied

with a large red ribbon welcomes one at the Eastern door,but on the desert the Christmas decoration is a wreath ofthe soft silver gray of the Desert Holly, with perhaps acluster of red berries of the Desert Mistletoe.

The holly that grows on the desert is one of the saltbushesAtriplex hymenelytra. It is a compact little bush,18 inches to three feet high, conspicious for its silveryfoliage. In the late summer months the leaves exposed tothe direct rays of the sun take on a purple tint, but resumetheir natural shading early in the fall.

Another desert plantPerezia nanais often referred toas Desert Holl y. It is found in Arizona , New Mexico andTexas, but does not grow in California. It is a little bush

only a few inches high and has just a few green holly-likeleaves. The species name nana refers to its dwarfish sizeand the plant might aptly be called dwarf Desert Holly.

The group of plants, the Atriplexes, of which DesertHolly is a member, belongs to the Pigweed family. In thedesert region this family contributes many hardy dwellerswhich are able to withstand the difficulties of growing inalkaline s oil. Some of them thrive in this type of soil.

Today the greatest threat against the existence of theDesert Holly is not the heat or sand or alkali of the desertland in which it grows, but the human foe who pulls it uproots and all, and takes it home for decorative purposes.

Over most of the arid region governmental agencies havepassed strict laws to protect this and other desert shrubsagainst human va ndals. But despite these laws Desert Hollyhas almost entirely disappeared from the roadside zonesof the main highways.

Nature has given this exquisite little plant the means tocombat its habitual enemiesbut not the destruction of

thoughtless humans. If Desert Holly is to survive it isgoing to need the loyal friendship of all those who love thedesert.

D e c e m b e r , 1 93 7


10/36

Guild*a Koaa.

By J. WILSON McKENNEY

G OLD DISCOVERED on the Colo-rado Los Angeles and San Ber-nardino were slumbering Mexican

pueblos in the spring of 1862. Withina few days after the first announcementof the discovery of gold at La Paz theroad through San Gorgonio pass be-came a major traffic artery, assumingan importance to southern Californiatrans port ation it has never lost. Seventymiles north of Yuma on the Coloradoriver, La Paz must be reached over-land on a route through an uninhabiteddesert.

Cannily sensing that "gold in themthar hills" would be of no value to manuntil he reached it and took it out, W.D. Bradshaw, a young stalwart about36 years of age, pioneered and opened,a stage road connecting San Bernar-dino and La Paz, a distance of 206miles.

Bill Bradshaw's road to the placerssuddenly became front page news inwestern journals of the day. Brad-shaw's name was on the lips of everyCalifornian.

There was a man His biographer,Maj. Horace Bell, describes his friendBill as "a natural lunatic," which wasprobably a typical observation from thepen of the intrepid journa list. But hedoes Bradshaw great credit in describ-

W*:Ping him as "a more curious or markedcharacter this chronicler never knewone of nature's most polished gentle-men and brightest jewel in America'scollection of true born chivalry. Brad-shaw was brave, generous, eccentric, inmanly form and physical beauty, per-fect; in muscular strength, a giant; infleetness of foot and endurance, un-equaled."

Job for an Iron ManIt took a man of Bradshaw's stature

to do what he did. For the famousBradshaw road was no path strewn withdaisies. No weakling could mark a trailacross the untrod wastes of the Colo-rado desert, find and develop the littlewater it offered so grudgingly, andbring hundreds of men and mules tothe new gold fields of the Coloradoriver. It is a pity the picture of Brad-shaw left is no more complete, for hewas a true man of the western deserts.

Strange it seems that a road whichskyrocketed in importance so quicklyand remained in such high favor forfifteen years should have become socompletely abandoned over its greaterportion. It served its purpose. Moredirect routes serve better now. Themost important link in the road, theSan Gorgonio pass, became the routeof the main line of the Southern Pa-

Looking across Salton Sea toward the Santa Rosa mountains at sunset,from the old road a few miles down the wash from Canyon Springs station.

Canyon Springs stage station on the oldBradshaw stage road as it appears to-day. The springs are still to be foundin a tributary canyon a half mile away.

cific railway . And the pass became theconfluence of two transcontinental high-ways which now usher in thousands ofauto tourists annually.

But the eastern half of the trail, fromCoachella valley to the ferry on theriver, became nothing more than amemory. It remains unchanged sinceCivil War days.

One way to tell the story of a roadis to review the conditions which madethe route necessary and to dig up thestories about the men who did the job.The men and the times were so mucha part of each other that their stories

were fused in a common background.So it is impossible to see the figure ofBill Bradsaw without seeing the barrenpurple mountains in the background,feeling the fierce beat of the sun's raysat midday, smelling the scent of crushedcreosote bush, sensing the impellingpower of men in search of gold.

Pathfinder on the DesertBradshaw was not the creator of a

road any more than he was father ofa gold rush. He rode the wave out infront because he was a pioneer. Thehistory of such rushes shows that thebolder, hardier men lay the course;others follow. There were other menwho rode high on the wave of humanity,even a few who smoothed the way fovthe wave itself.

The story of Bill Bradshaw's roadreally begins with Captain PaulinoWeaver, trapper, prospector and guide.Weaver found placer gold in one of thearroyos along the Colorado river nearEhrenberg in January, 1862. He tooka few tiny nuggets to Yuma in a goosequill.

Jose M. Redondo and a party ofMexican prospectors returned to the

field of discovery with Weaver andfound bigger nuggets. Suddenly the

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


11/36

The name "Butterfield Stage Road" has been appliedrather loosely to any and all of the old stage routes whichcrossed the Colorado desert of Southern California beforethe Southern Pacific line was built. As a matter of factthere was but one Butterfield trailthat which crossed theColorado river at Yuma, dipped south into Mexico toavoid the sandhills, and continued to the coast by way of

Carrizo and Vallecito valleys. The more northerly trailwhich st i l l can be traced along the Chuckawalla rangeto the Colorado river near Ehrenberg was built by BillBradshaw and should properly be known as the Brad-shaw road. Here are some interesting sidelights on thecharacter of one of the leaders in the stagecoach era ofdesert history.

news was out and a gold rush started.Immediately there were wholesale de-sertions from the fort.

All this took place only a few monthsafter Confederate troops had fired on

Fort Sumter and Abraham Lincoln hadtaken the presidency. By the time therush was well under way General Grantwas capturing Fort Henry.

For several years the ButterfieldOverland stage line had been runningthrough Fort Yuma and on to Los An-geles by way of Vallecito, Warner's,and Temecula. But gallant and color-ful as it was, the project was forced tofail with the outbreak of the Civil War.The Butterfield line had, however,opened transportation from the east andhad made communication between FortYuma and Los Angeles easier. So thegold news, traveling with the uncannyspeed of rumor, soon reached the coasttowns. The scene was set for Bill Brad-shaw.

Los Angeles heard that one Don JuanFerra had taken from his claim in theLa Paz placers a nugget weighing 48ounces. At the prevailing price of gold,the lucky Sonoran received $816 forhis find. Quickly rumors came andsrrew of fabulous riches made over-

night. By the time news had passedby word of mouth from town to town,the riches probably assumed prodigiousproportion s. Is it any wonder thatevery man who had not gone to take

sides in the Civil War was fired withthe desire to dig himself a fortune atLa Paz?

Bradshaw was one of the first to heedthe call. Fearless adventurer, he hadalready figured prominently in the BearFlag revolt of California.

First Road Through Pass

While Bradshaw did not actuallydiscover San Gorgonio pass, he laid outa road there and maintained that it wasa better route than Cajon pass and theMojave desert. The 2300-foot pass be-

tween towering San Jacinto and SanGorgonio peaks had been charted whenthe Williamson railroad survey partycame through in 1853. Pedestrians andhorsemen had used the pass for severalyears but it was not ready for heavytraffic until Bradshaw heard the call ofthe gold fields.

Chief Cabezon, leader of the deserttribe of Cahuilla Indians, is creditedwith having drawn for Bill Bradshaw

a crude map showing a possible routefrom the pass to the river. Fittinglyenough, a little railroad town east ofBanning is now named Cabazon, with aslight variation from the spelling of theChief's name. But the name of the manwho accepted the Indian's advice is im-mortalized only in obscure historybooks.

From Water Hole to Water HoleBradshaw laid out his road, crossingthe pass and descending to Coachellavalley, then a sandy waste, by way ofWhitewater riverb ed. Crossing the des-ert valley in a southeasterly direction,he entered a gap between the Orocopiaand Chocolate mountains just north ofthe Salton sink. There was an oasis atDos Palmas and another near the sum-mit of the creek bed at Canyon Springs.

Bearing to the south the trail blazerstayed on high ground between theChuckawalla and Chocolate mountains,finding water at Tabaseca tanks andChuckawalla wells. There was a stationat Mule Springs along the south edgeof the Chuckawalla mountains. Lagunastation was located on a lagoon of theColorado river, Willow spring was nearthe center of Palo Verde valley, andBradshaw's ferry was a little north ofthe present Ehrenberg bridge.

The Bradshaw route gained in popu-larity and everyone who traveled itgave it the preference over any of theother desert roads which were occa-sionally used. Its popularity no doubtwas due in a large measure to the press-

agentry and great physical energy ofBill Bradshaw, who on August 23, inthe heat of the summer, met 150 men inSan Bernardino to conduct them per-sonally over his road to the mines.Apparently he regularly conductedsuch parties. The bringing of largegroups of indifferently equipped menthrough the discomforts and dangersof summer desert travel without casu-

Turn to page 24

SAN BERNARDINO

D e c e m b e r , 1 93 7


12/36

Palm* That (flowIn the Mud 4jllU

By RANDALL HENDERSON

WHO KNOWS THE ANSWER?Who nam ed the Pushaw a l la can-

yonand what is the origin of thena m e? The writer of this desert-loghas sought the answer to these ques-tions from many sources. No one hasbeen able to give authoritative in-formation. The Desert Magaz inewill be grateful for this information

so that i t can be passed along toothers who are interested.

I F I were asked to name the mostdrab and uninviting plot of desert inSouthern Californiaas seen from

the highwaythe first picture whichwould come to my mind would be thosedull, dreary hills which border thenorth side of Coachella valley betweenIndio and Edom.

And if I were asked to name a dozenof the most picturesque canyons to befound in the Southern California des-ert, one of the first on my list would

be a charming palm-lined arroyo whichthreads its way through those same uglyhillsthe Pushawalla Canyon.

"Indio M ud H ill s " That was the an-swer when I asked an old-timer of theCoachella valley to tell me the nameof the hills which form the northernrim of the basin. Since then I haveverified this name on at least one map,although other maps omit the "Mud"and merely designate them as the IndioHills or Coachella Hills or Mecca Hills.

I daresay that not one motorist in athousand ever favors that drab land-scape with a second glance. Prob ablythere are many who have passed alongHighway 99 or 60 or 70-they're allthe same at this pointwho are noteven aware of the existence of the hills.

And yet, in the coves and arroyosand hidden recesses of these highlyeroded piles of clay are to be found agreater number of the native palms ofthe desertthe Washinglonia filifera

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RELIEF MA P

SHOWI NG ROUT E

FROM EDOM TO

P U S H AWA L L A

C A N Y O N

V - PINES ip PALMiHIGHWAY

IDYLLWILD

TAHQUITZ LODGE

than in any other equal area in theSouthwest.

Thousand palms, Seven palms, Wil-lis palms, Biskra palms, Curtiss palms,Macomber palms, Pushawalla palmsare all found here. And there are manyother groups with no recorded names.No one knows whence these palm s came,no r how long they have been here.Probably at some distant period in thepast there were many more. The vis-ible water supply has vanished at manypoints. But there still remains an un-derground source of moisture. Other-wise the trees would have perished.

The desertthe real desertcannotbe seen from the paved highway. Thisis true of Pushawalla canyonjust asit is true of a thousand other pic-turesque arroyos in the land of littlerainfall.

Thrill of Uncharted Roads

Pushawalla canyon offers a trip forthose who find a thrill in traveling theuncharted roads, and who accept therocks and ruts of an unexplored trailin the spirit of a glorious adventure.

The 8-mile drive from the pavedhighway at Edom is rough, but passableto the careful driver. The motoristleaves Highway 99 at the little Edomoasis where a huge sign announces"Thousand Palms Junction." Take theThousand palms road. At 3.8 miles a

sign points to Willis palms on the left,bu t the route to Pushawalla continues

straight ahead. At 4.7 miles take theright fork and follow an uncharted roadwhich swings around an obtruding spurin the mud hills. The trail follows asandy wash for some distance, but thereis no hazard for the cautious driver. Atthe next fork, 5.8 miles from Edom,take the left road leading toward thelittle white cabin at the mouth of awide arroyo. The road passes throu ghthe front yard of the cabin and con-tinues back into the hills.

Palms Along the Way

A picturesque group of palms con-cealed in an amphitheater-like covesuddenly comes in view on the left.Ahead is a straggling fringe of palmsalong the base of a low hill . Continueon the road to its endhigh up on abluff overlooking the Pushawalla.

Some of the palms on the floor of thearroyo below are visible at this point,bu t the main group of trees is huddledaround a clear spring of good waterthree-fourths of a mile up the arroyo.If you feel adventurous you may scram-ble down the precipitous bank of gravelto the floor of the canyon near whereyour car is parked. However, a fairlydistinct trail follows along the top ofthe bluff to a point where the descent iseasier.

Near the springs are the ruins of anold adobe building, erected many years

ago, according to hearsay, by prospec-tors who found traces of gold in this

area. More recently a stamp mill wasinstalled to crush gold-bearing orebrought down from the San Bernardinomoun tains. Recently this has been re-moved, and today the little oasis is freefrom any hint of commercialism.

The sandy Pushawalla arroyo ex-tends entirely through the mudhills,and a car especially equipped for sandtravel may reach the sprin g either fromthe southern entrance, or from theAqueduct road which extends along thebase of the San Bernardinos on thenorth. Traces of a former road whichcame in from the north are still visibleat points along the arroyo.

Veteran Stands Guard

Charles E. Layton, retired veteran of18 years service in the United Statesarmy, owns the little white house at theentrance to the arroyo. The road crosseshis homestead and passes through hisfront yard. He is a friendly guardianof the Pushawalla palmsfriendly tothose who come on a peaceful mission,bu t an unsparing foe of those vandalswho would despoil the desert's beautyspots.

It really is not a trip for high-heeledshoes and Palm Beach trousers. Buifor those who like their desert in theraw and who find a thrill in scramblingover boulders and exploring desert can-yons away from the beaten trails, the

Pushawalla offers a day of rare enjoy-ment.

D e c e m b e r , 1937 11


14/36

Most folks would regard the handling of live rattle-snakes as an extremely hazardous occupation, butto Park Ranger Ted Thatcher it is just an incident inhis week's work. There's a market for the venomwhich he extracts from his box of rattlers.

liime

the RattUt*

12

By LARRY D. WOLMAN

I N ONE hand he held a squirmingrattlesnake, and in the other a smallglass bowl containing a few dropsof one of the most deadly poisonsknown to man.

"There's really no hazard to this jobif you know your reptiles and are care-M."

This was Ted Thatcher's answer tothe audible gasp of horror that camefrom the little group of spectators ashe seized a struggling rattler by theneck and began forcing its jaws apart.

We were gathered on the veranda ofof the ranger station at the LehmanCaves National Monument near Baker,Nevada, where National Park RangerTed 0 . Thatcher is custodian of one ofUncle Sam's well-administered parkreservations.

On the porch Thatcher keeps a boxof villainous looking rattlesnakes cap-tured in the hills around the govern-ment reserve. The snakes are always asource of interest to visitors at the cav-erns. Ted makes them pay for theirkeep by extracting the poison fromtheir sacs three or four times a month.

"Milking the rattlers," the rangerscall it, and Thatcher has developed atechnic which is both interesting andeffective.

His equipment consists of a three-foot stick with a fork at the end. Inthe fork of a slip noose so adjusted thathe can tighten it about the neck of thesnake by pulling the wire which extendsalong the stick to hand grips. He

shoves the forked stick down into thebox where the rattlers are coiled andmaneuvers it until one of them puts itshead through the noose. The loop istightened then and Mr. Diamondback isyanked from the box. Thatcher graspsthe snake by the neck, releases thenoose, and the milking job begins.

A small glass bowl with a sheet ofrubber stretched taut over the top is thereceptacle for the poison. By pressureon the back of the head the snake's jawsare forced apart, and the fangs presseddown on the rubber until they punchthrough. The venom drip s from their

Turn to page 21

The DESERT MAGAZINE


15/36

to1 # * ' * * *

BE-ZHOSIE Photo by W. M. Pennington

THE FEEL O F THE DESERTD E F I N E

D EFIANCE was the breath of life toBe-Zhosie, famous medicine man ofthe Navajo tribe. This Indian com-manded great respect among his fellow-tribesmen, and his hatred of white menmade of him a disturbing influence.

It was not so much the white men hehated, as the laws they represented. Be-Zhosie was among the few thousands ofNavajos who were rounded-up by KitCarson, herded together across the deserton a wholesale drive which reduced thenumbers by deaths, and held as prisonersin the unfamiliar regions near Fort Sum-ner, in eastern New Mexico.

In 1886, when the first Navajo reserva-tion was set aside from the public domain,the Indians were herded back across NewMexico and turned loose in the Four Cor-

ners region. The seven or eight years'captivity had made an anarchist of youngBe-Zhosie, but he managed to avoid openconflict with Uncle Sam until 1916.The controversy arose over the subjectof plural wives.

"Give 'em up " ordered Uncle Sam,"Plural marriage is un-Constitutional."

"I won't " retorted Be-Zhosie, "It w asright for my ancestors and it's goodenough for me."

The Beautiful Mountain Rebellion madefront page copy for newspapers of theworld. From the safety of volcanic Beauti-ful Mountain in the Lukaichukai range,Be-Zhosie and his followers figurativelythumbed their noses at Uncle Sam . . . .The rebellion was settled without a singleshot.

D e c e m b e r , 1 9 3 7 13


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cina. The last is the spellin g most fre-quently used by anthropologists andstudents of pagan American theologies.Difference in spelling is inevitable indealing with a language which is whollyoral. The Hopi Indian softly pro-nounces the word kah-tsee-nah, with aslight rising inflection on the finalsyllable.

Men who carve dolls and dance withserpents A bizarre combination andyet isn't it possible that there may besome far-fetched relation betweenthese two unconventional pastimes?

Yes, there might be. Actually thereis. The katcina dolls are carved andcolored to represent Indian dancersdressed in ceremonial regalia, the cos-tumes which represent certain impor-tant deities of the Ho pi religion . Theseare the garb worn by Hopi men danc-ing with live squirming snakes of thedesert dangling from their mouths indevout prayer for rain to bring fruitionto their crops.

The name "katcina" signifies spirit,or soul, or personality. Thus the termmay be applied to any invisible forcesuch as life, death, fertility, lightning,thunder, rain, wind, etc.; anything thatmotivates visible phenomena.

A comprehensive discussion and ex-planation of the Hopi katcina, in theoryand practice, was prepared in 1899-1900 by Professor Jesse Walter Fewkes.By arrangement with individual Hopis.he acquired numerous colored drawingsillustrating the forms and masks andcostumes of a host of individual kat-cinas.

The complete discussion was pub-lished in the 21st annual report of theBureau of American Ethnology, of theSmithsonian Institution, in 1903. In-cluded in the volume are 63 full-pagecolor plates, reproducing some two-hundred or more of the katcina draw-ings. The serious student of anthro -pology will find this volume repletewith interest.

Consider, then, the vast amount ofaccurate knowledge which must bestored in the brain of the professionalmaker of katcinas: masks, costumes andsymbols, for all the hundreds of variedkatcinas must be reproduced in accuratedetail, to avoid offending each jealous

The professional Hopi Katcina-maker isnot mentally sluggish. He carries in hismind all the details of designs, colors,decorative symbols and proportions forhundreds of individual models. Inci-dentally, observe the straight toes of theman whose feet never have felt the de-forming abuse of the white man's shoes.

Photo by W. M. Penninston

D e c e m b e r , 1 93 7

deity. Since no permanent visible rec-ords are maintained for his reference,the katcina-maker must carry this fundof information in his memory. Andthere have been educated Americans, en-joying all the conveniences of mechan-ized civilization, who have thought th?desert Indian lacking in intelligence

The Hopi katcina-maker prefers the

sun-dried porous roots of the cotton-wood tree for the bodies of his dolls.His tools are few and elementaryasmall dull saw, a light hammer, a woodchisel, and an auger. He scorns thewhite man's paints and brushes, pre-ferring powdered colored earths mixedwith water and applied by feathers.

Turn to page 22


18/36

wrr/rnT

fiaaln at

SLlkton andAfotenci. . .

The PD Revives One ofArizona's Old Mining

Camps on a Huge Scale

BUCK W LT smiles again. Busi-ness was poor at his service sta-tion during the depression years

bu t now he is busy all day at his pumpsand the Await tourist cabins are alwaysrented. He smiles because his patronsare cheerful. They have a friendlygreeting, often stop to chat.

Buck is a veteran of Clifton, one ofArizona's oldest mining camps. Fromhis station he can see the huge smoke-stained smelter chimney down the can-yon, towering high above buildings andtrees. When the stack was cold andsmokeless he was glum and there wasa spell of gloom over his neighbors.For five years he had watched the chim-ney, vainly hoping that each day itmight send out its ribbon of whiteagain. In October he saw the smokeonce more. Hi s spirits soared w ith th esign of renewed life.

Heavily loaded trucks roll past Buck'sstation all day. The railroad engine,

which used to come by in mid-after-noon with only a day coach in tow, nowchugs past long after nightfall, slowlypulling a quarter-mile train of ore-cars.New customers stop daily at Buck'spumps. The old mining camp on theedge of the desert has been saved frombecoming a ghost townit is beginningto roar again.

Fortune InvestedBehind the change is a significant

decision which was voted in the direc-tor's room of a great mining corpora-tion. Th e Phelps-Dodge Corporation

decided to spend n early $29,000,000to lay bare a new low grade copper orebody on the mountain above Morenci.

16

By JONATHAN BART

Phelps-Dodge was an old establishedcompany in 1880 when it commissionedDr. James S. Douglas to report on theadvisability of taking stock in the De-troit Copper Company, then operatingin Clifton. The Corpo ration took overduring the following half-century prac-tically all the mining properties in theClifton-Morenci district. It is now theforemost corporation engaged in Ari-zona's copper extraction industry, andthe second largest copper producer inthe world. It has mines and smeltersin seven widely separated parts of thestate, with headquarters at Douglas.H. M. Lavender is general manager andE. Wittenau is superintendent at Mor-enci.

Slowly at first, but with mountingspeed, people and machinery began to

move in the White mountains of easternArizona. Activity has now almostreached its peak. Hundred s of peoplefound employment.

Await has lived in Clifton 36 years.Dozens of others can beat his recordfor continuous residence under the redrock cliffs which give their town itsname. They live long and healthily,seem to thrive in spite of the ebb andflow of mining camp h istory. The agingservice station man feels the pulse ofhis community, for its life blood flowspast his door.

He sits in his squeaky padded swivelchair in the evening when businessslacks at the pump, watches the wind-blown smoke issue from the distant

chimney in the fading light until dark-ness blots out the scene. His son-in-lawstops after the stag banquet the BigBoss spread for employees at the re-paired smelter. Other young peopledrop in to exchange small town gossip.They are acutely concious of the Cor-poration (the PD they call it) ; theyknow something is "breaking" on thehill.

To them the PD is a job, relief fromgovernment largesse, a benefactor andprotector. They will have no sympathywith politicians who vocally strangleBig Business. They know that big cor-porations are necessary in the miningand reducing of copper ore.

Last April W. A. E. Hult, employ-ment agent for the PD, opened an officein a little green shack in Morenci andbegan hiring men for the Corporation.This was the first indication that some-thing unusual was about to happen.Only about 100 men had been on thePD payrolls since 1932, keeping the

Peter Riley, No. 1 Citizen of Clifton,welcomes new activity enthusiastica lly


19/36

:

mass of equipment at mine, mill, andsmelter in some kind of order. Withina few weeks hundreds of men hadjoined them.

By fall 250 men were at work on themine proper and an army of 700 menwas working on the PD properties at ornear both towns. Then employment wassuspended; Hult hung out a "No HelpWanted" sign. The general managermade public announcement that "amplepersonnel is available in the Morenci-Clifton district to fill all positions formany years to come."

No Vacancies NowMine veterans came from PD's Ajo

property to form a nucleus for the Her-culean man power necessary for thejob. A crew of 28 men put in powerlines for the steel behem oths. Boilermakers, machinists, carpenters, shoveloperators, welders, truck drivers passedbefore the critical eye of Employment

Agent Hult.In mid-October, when work was pro-gressing with full shifts, the price ofcopper dropped. PD managers an-nounced a wage cut of five percent. La-bor accepted this news philosophically.The workers recalled the five wage in-creases of the past year.

When work began in the spring therewas no fanfare of trumpets, no an-nouncement to the press. But it becamemore and more evident to watchful resi-dents of Morenci and Clifton that thePD was going places.

Look at the background of these twomining communities. Morenci, namedfor the Michigan home town of WilliamChurch, an official of the original De-troit Copper company, is the mine town.Its ancient brick office buildings, steel

Mountains are being leveled at thegreat Clay ore body operation

mills, and wooden shacks cling to theslopes of barren mountains. It is owned,body and soul, by the PD. A pictur-esque reminder of Morenci's originaltransportation system may still be seenon the steep paths as burros deliverprecious stove wood from house tohouse.

Clifton, taking its name from Pros-pector Charlie Shannon's allusion to "atown under the cliffs," is seven milesaway by WPA highway and 2100 feetlower on the mountain. It is spreadalong the banks of Chase Creek and theSan Francisco river, pressing hardagainst the cliff. Clifton is the smeltertown; it has no mines. Most of its bodybelongs to P D ; its soul is its own. Italso has its picturesque reminder ofantiquity in the two-celled rock-hewndungeon jail near the postoffice.

Both towns were saved from extinc-

Bins were built at the Morenci mill toextract copper from fire-water

tion by the New Deal. Its 100 percent Democratic constituency cashed infor five long years, acquired new streetsand sidewalks, built massive bleachersand rock-walled recreation fields on re-claimed river bottom and mountaintop. Five years of boondo ggling, wait-ing for the mines to open, grew weari-some. Hope of returning to PD employ-ment brought new vitality to Cliftonand Morenci.

As spring turned to summer the pur-poses of the PD began to take form.Rumors of millions to be spent in open-ing up a new body of low grade copperore strengthened the citizenry's de-pressed courage. Buck Await heardsome of these whisperings, which turnedto certainty when the high command an-

Turn to page 20


20/36

Forty years of trading with the Indians in the Southwestcountry has taught Will Evans many things, both about theIndians an d the desert. Some of his conclusions are quotedin the accompanying sketch by John Stewart MacClary, whohas been a "pal of the trail" with the trader on manyexcursion s. Evans is trader, collector, legislator, artist andstudenta man whom the readers of the Desert magazinewill want to know better.

J-inlc5 Stonewith.

Steel -HGef. By JOHN STEWART MacCLARY

I

The sand-painting blanketin this picture includesthe Twin Gods, the Sac-red Cornparent of allplant lifeand the Rain-how Goddess. All are im-portant Navajo deities.

YOUR description ofEvans," remarked a friend ofmine, "I can't make out whether

the man is a two-gun Indian fighter oran intellectual storekeeper "

It's rather difficult to describe with-out bias a pal who affectionately ad-dresses me as "ol ' trail-mate." When Ithink of his steady blue eyes and the

firm lines of his jaw. I can visualizethe fighting leader of any cause heconsiders just. But a two-gun Indianfighter of the frontier type hard-rid-ing, straight-shooting, hard-drinkingnever could have won and held theloyal friendship of shy Indians out inthe desert for forty years. The Indiansrespect Will Evans.

The "intellectual storekeeper" roledoes not fully portray the characterof the man. Yes, he is a storekeeper.His trading post provides home andlivelihood. Intellectual by nature andby self-development, Will Evans hasvision far beyond the side-meat andbeans of his business enterprise.

Blankets to Curly HeadNavajo Indians trail in from great

distances, bringing blankets for Chis-chilli Curly-Head they call him.They know they will receive fair treat-ment at Shiprock Trading Company.With confidence they offer their humblewares to the friendly trader, secure inthe knowledge that he plays the gameas they like it played. Long-hairedNavajo medicine men from remote spotson the reservation express admirationfor the numerous patterns of sacredsand-paintings which Will Evans hasrecorded in oils. It may seem strangeand somewhta fantastic, but individualmedicine men have come long distancesfor the opportunity to inspect patternswhose details they may have forgotten.Will Evans' "library" of sand paintingmythology is one of the finest in theworld.

The Indian trader links the SteelAge with the Stone Age. He has greaterinfluence with the Indians than mission-

aries and Government employes. Theo-retical benefits of Christian civiliza-tion are preached in the missions andtaught in the schools, but practical ap-plication is practiced in the Indiantrading post. It is there the Indianlearns to want and to use the Steel Ageproducts which can make his daily lifeeasier and more pleasant. There helearns to employ the white man's GoldenRule.

Wins in PoliticsWill Evans not only has the respect

of the Indians, but also the confidenceof his neighbors of the white race. In1929 he announced his candidacy as

.18 The DESERT MAGAZINE


21/36

a Republican for the New Mexico statelegislature. Normally his home countyof San Juan polls a Democratic major-ity of almost 500 votes. When theballots were counted he had won by 211votes' majority. The Indians were notpermitted to vote in those days.

During his t w o - y e a r te rm in theLegislature, Evans served on comm itteeson Mining, Agriculture and Irrigation.He initiated and brought about thepassage of a bill authorizing retentionby the state of 50% of all archaeologi-cal treasures discovered within theboundaries of New Mexico, thus limit-ing the removal of prehistoric valuablesfrom the region in which they belong.He was active in pushing through leg-islation which granted funds for prelim-inary surveys for dams across the SanJuan river, New Mexican trib utary ofthe Colorado. When constructed, thisproject will provide irrigation for some100,000 acres of fertile land.

So much for Will Evans as traderan d law maker. And now we will meethim in his homethe real test-groundfor the character of every man.

We'll visit him in the eveningwhenIndians, wool buyers, tourists andtraveling salesmen have departed fromthe big trade room. If we had not al-ready dined we would accept the heartyinvitation of Mrs. Evansand we wouldsoon realize why Will and his threegrown sons are filled out to match themore than six feet of height which eachpossesses. Hard work and desert breezeshave built healthy appetites. Mrs. Evansknows how to satisfy them.

The desert evening is cold, but thickadobe walls have barred the winter airand the big fireplace cuddles a huskylog from the distant mountains. South-westward a few miles, through the win-dow we can see the majestic bulk of theShiprock, towering above the moon-

light-flooded desert. In such a setting itis not difficult to understand the almostsuperstitious veneration of the Navajosfor the mysterious natural monument.

Like most men who have matured inthe desert, Will Evans is no waster ofwords. Least of all will he talk abouthimself. But if we can coax a few rem-iniscences from between his lips, thegain may be worth the effort. So weask:

"Has the desert changed much in thetime you've known it, Wi l l ? "

No the desert hasn't changed ofits own accord . . . it has been changedby alien influencesby human beingswho didn't understand it. That's whywe now have gullies and arroyos whereonce we had grass enough to cut forhay. Overgrazing.

"Progress is inevitable, but abuse isinexcusable. The greedy sheep-growerswho sowed the wind are reaping thewhirlwind."

"Will, have the Navajos changed inthe time you've known them?"

Indians Better Off

"Very little, I think, below the sur-face. Most of those who have been inschool understand simple arithmetic.The young ones can speak English,when they choosewhich is only whenabsolutely necessary. They have bettermedical care than they did in the olderdays. Yes, I guess they're better fittedfor modern living conditions."

"When did you first enter the Indiantrading business?"

"I started trading with the Navajosin December, 1898. At that time therewas no trading post east of the Lukai-chukai mountains, the nearest beingacross the range. The Indians on thispart of the reservation were compelledto make long trips across the mountains

Turn to page 28

HE KNOWS HIS DESERT

The Navajo Trading post of Will Evans, situated out on the New Mexico desertnear the famous Shiprock.

JOHN STEWART MacCLARY

U~r DUG three miles of post holesin soil so dry I had to haulwater from a spring three

miles away to moisten the earth so1 could get it out of the holes.Half a mile of the fence crosseda limestone mesa where 1 had touse a spud-bar to gouge the holesin the rock."

This was John Stewart Mac-Clary's introduction to the desertnearly 25 years ago. But his expe-rience with the post-hole diggerdid not discourage him. He likedthe desert so well he stayed, andhis stories of the desert have ap-peared in more than 50 publica-tions.

He wrote the "Feel of the Des-ert" series which is now appearingin the Desert Magazine, and therewill be other manuscripts from hispen.

An accident in 1929 left himparalyzed, but despite this handi-cap his alert mind and love of allthings pertaining to the desert,plus the loyalty of a wide circle offriends, have enabled him to con-tinue his writings.

He knows the Navajo Indiansand their problems intimately, andhis interests include both the loreand the sciences of the desert land,especially the arid regions of NewMexico, northeastern Arizona, Utahand Colorado.

MacClary was born in Lexington,Kentucky, in 19 01, but his homefor many years has been at Pueblo,Colorado.

The publishers of Desert Maga-zine are happy to present Mac-Clary, both as a sterling fellow andan able writer, who knows whereof

he writes.

D e c e m b e r , 1 9 3 7 19


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23/36

the canyon when they searched for gold,developed ore so rich it yielded 50per cent copper. He remembers thetypical ups and downs of the miningcamps, enlivened by the escapades ofbad men, enriched by the consolidationof mine properties, and endangered bytoo frequent floods of the San Fran-cisco river. Anderson can dwell on thevirtues of Charlie Shannon or the vices

and eccentricities of Climax Jim. Hecan take his listener into the historicdank and fearful dungeon jai l at Cliftonor into the intricate corporate structuresof great mine companies.

Every town has at least one personwho cheerfully shoulders more thanhis load of civic and fraternal respon-sibilities. Clifton has its No. 1 citizenin Peter Riley, a friendly and vigorouspostmaster as Irish as his name.

Riley was mayor in 1926 when theClifton-Springerville highway over theWhite mountains was completed. Hehad the imagination to name the routethe Coronado Trail and the energy topromote a dedication ceremony whichattracted 5000 visitors and featured anApache Indian dance of 600 braves andsquaws.

He is the mainstay of the Comm ercialclub, the Elks and the Legion and servesas enthusiast and counselor for everynew community activity. As WPA di-rector he caused a $48,000 ball park tobe built in Clifton and another in Mor-ertci on which football teams of therespective high schools stage their com-bats. Riley went to Clifton 30 yearsago as a baseball player and stayed to

become a town leader and chief re-freshment dispenser, hence what wouldbe more natural than that he and theboys should promote night ball gameson the recreation grounds?

Interesting PersonalitiesThe visitor finds a wealth of interest-

ing personalities in Clifton. There is,for instance, Adam Smith, real estateman, who has watched new faces comeand go for nearly half a century. Andthe Wong family still operates the Am-erican Kitchen after 45 years of friendlyWong service. Beautiful Flora Wong

bears a striking resemblance to famousAnna May Wong of the films. And theblonde girl at the drug store fountainhopes the abominable 30-mile road up*the mountain from Safford will never

be repaired "because it keeps the bumsand peddlers out and keeps the cus-tomers at hom e." Black Jack, ClimaxJim, Kid Lewis, and Cyclone Bill aren'taround any more but their notoriousmemory lingers.

To mention personalities and not in-clude Jack Farrell, one of the firstmaster mechanics on the mountain,would be a gross error. And no town'shistory is more colorful tha n Clifton'sgallery of the mighty: Henry Bill, JimCalhoun, Poston, Carmichael, Solomon,Lesinski, and many others prominent inArizona's territorial history.

Metcalf, one-time northern terminusof the shortest and most profitablerailroad in all the American systems,has gone the way of all mining camps.But Clifton and Morenci, bound to-gether in strengthened ties of brother-hood, have take a new lease on life.Under the paternal hand of the PD,

they are finding much-needed nourish-ment in the rich mountains and themeal ticket is marked "Good for 50years." No wonder Buck Await and hisneighbors are smiling

Milking Time for the Rattlerspoints and is caught in the bowl.

"Often the snakes will eject the

venom voluntarily by contracting themuscle surrounding the sacs," explainedThatcher. "Otherwise the ejection canbe forced by pressure on the reptile'shead at the base of the jaw. Ejectionnormally is under the wilful control ofthe snake." The venom is a thick yel-lowish fluid.

There is a market for rattlesnakevenom. Hosp itals have paid as high as$25 an ounce for it. They use it inmaking antivenin for the treatment ofrattlesnake victims. Another use is inthe treatment of haemophilia, a condi-

tion in which the human blood will no tcoagulate and a minor wound maycause the victim to bleed to death. Thismalady has been the curse of at leastthree royal families in Europe.

Thatcher has found that a three-footrattler will produce a cubic centimeter,about 10 drops, of venom every two orthree days when well fed and in goodhealth.

The captive snakes are fed rats andmice, and will eat small birds if givena chance. The life-span of cagedsnakes is uncertain. Sometimes theyrefuse food and unless released willdie in a relatively short time. How-

Continued from page 12

ever, they may live for months withoutfood. They can be kept in confinement

for years when proper nourishment isprovided and they have no inhibitionsagainst accepting it.

But milking rattlesnakes is not TedThatcher's main occupation. It mere-ly is a sort of sideshow attractionwhich gives the visitors to Lehmancaves an extra thrill.

The caves are the main drawing cardand while they are not the largest cav-erns to be found in the United Statesthey offer a fantastic maze of stalactitesand stalagmites which attract hundredsof visitors during the summer season.

They are open throughout the year butoccasionally are inaccessible because ofsnow.

Lehman caves are located at the east-ern base of Mt. Whee ler, highest peakin Nevada, 70 miles from Ely and sixmiles from the little town of Baker.

Public spirited citizens of White Pinecounty bought the property and pre-sented it to the federal government in1934. For a year it was under controlof the U. S. Forest service, and then wasturned over to the Park service as aNational Monument.

Thatcher, a graduate of Utah StateAgricultural college, formerly was with

the Forest service, bu t transferred to thepark department and was assigned to

the Lehman caves in March, 1937.The caves were known many yearsbefore the government acquired owner-ship, and the legendary history attachedto them includes weird tales of theirprevious occupancy. According to In-dian myth a Redskin brave and hissweetheart were wandering over themountain when they came by chance tothe entrance of the caverns. Theircuriosity led them to enter and theywere promptly seized by a blue-faceddwarf who devoured them and tossedtheir bones outside of the entrance.

This tale gave rise to the belief, evenamong modern Indians of the district,that a little blue-faced man dwelt in thecaves and brought death to their chil-dren and pestilence to their tribes.

Ted Thatcher and men of the Parkservice are planning many improve-ments at the caverns, designed to makethem more accessible and attractive tovisitors. In the meantime those incharge are greeting all who come withthe courtesy characteristic of parkrangers. And if you are lucky enoughto reach there on "milking day" forthe rattlesnakes the trip will be doublyworth while.

D e c e m b e r , 19 3 > 21


24/36

Men Who Carve DollsContinued from page 15

The dancing with live snakes is nofantastic mum mery. It is a devout pleato the gods for the blessing of life-giv-ing rain. The snakes are the trustedmessengers which carry to the gods,whose abode is the mysterious under-world, reports of the urgent need forwater on the sun-baked desert in August.

The ceremonial had its origin in aprehistoric legend, cherished and re-vered by the Hopi Indian s. So muchhas been written describing the cere-monial and its significance, repetitionhere would seem monotonous and un-interesting. Most public libraries haveon file numerous books and magazinearticles telling the story.

The snakes which are gathered asmessengers to the gods are of everyvariety known to the Arizona desert.

There are long fat bull snakes, shortstubby rattlesnakes, slender sidewindersthe species seems to make no differ-ence. Some have deadly venom. Noneis a desirable bed companion, but allare partnered indiscriminately for thedance.

Perhaps no single phase of Indian-ology has been productive of so muchspeculation as has the mystery of how

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the Hopis escape lethal injury from thepoisonous repti les. Fanciful tales ofsecret ointments which are snake-re-pellant; the incorrect supposition thatfangs and poison sacs are first re-moved; a theory that snakes are ableto strike and eject venom only whenthey are coiled, which is physically im-practicable when dangling from themouth of a dancing Indian. These, andnumerous other explanations, have beenadvancedby white observers. TheHopis have remained mute on the sub-ject.

Recently there came to me, from onewhose veracity is unquestionable, anexplanation of the matter given to himby an educated Hopi. For the entireday and night immediately precedingthe ceremony, said the Indian, each

snake to be used is tantalized and in-furiated by a long pole carrying a largepiece of beef liver. The provocationcauses the petulant snake to strike, in-jecting his lethal venom in the inani-mate flesh. Frequently repeated overtwenty-four hours or so, this treatmentsurely should reduce the vigor of eventhe most belligerent rattler, and mighteven empty his store of venom.

The explanation seems plausible.Whether authentic or not, it at least isa new answer to a question which longhas been unsolved.

The Hopi Snake Dance is an annualevent, usually celebrated in the latterpart of August. No regular date is as-signedfor the medicine men musthave reasonably definite atmospheric

assurance that rain may be expectedshortly following the demonstration.In years of odd numbers the cere-

mony is staged at the pueblo of Walpi.In even numbered years Oraibi pueblois the site. The place and the date al-ways are published nationwide two orthree weeks in advance of the perform-ance.

Visitors are made welcome, as longas they comport themselves with thedignity and respectful attitude due agrou p of people at pray er. The guests,however, are not allowed the pleasure

of making photographs of the cere-mony.For reason or reasons known only to

himself and never publicized the GreatWhite Father at Washington says:"Make no photographs of the HopiSnake Dance " So, if you take a cam-era with youand every tourist doesyou either check it peacefully or sur-render it regretfully.

Christmas 1775Continued from page 6

shoulde r and pointed. As they stoodthe light flooded about them. Theygazed in wonder. The horses movedrestlessly and the cattle made a fretfulmoaning.

The dozens of tents scattered aboutthe canyon floor were darksave one.There was a dim light within the smallroom. A man paced beside it. Thewatchers heard the sound of voices fromwithin and the low moan of a woman.

"What is the time. Manuel?" askedPedro.

"I make out one-half hour beforemidnight."

The cry of a babe came from thetent. The two men looked at each otherand smiled. "Ygnacio may stop hisexercises now," Manuel said.

Christmas Day dawned bright, thefirst fair weather the expedition hadseen in many days. Father Font, thechaplain, rejoiced that he had an op-portunity to admonish his children. Hesaid three Masses, taking occasion torebuke the men for the drinking of theevening before.

After the final Mass, Ygnacio Linares,

the soldier, brought a small snugly-wrap ped bundle to the priest. Devout-

ly the people kneeled as the Fatherbaptised the new-born boy, naming himSalvador Ygnacio Linares.

All day the expedition rested in thecanyon, celebrating the birth of the In-fant Jesus and rejoicing at the safe de-liverance of one of their own party.

As the sun sank on Christmas Day,the proud father stood with Manuel andPedro, looking northwest at the crest ofthe Sierras. Pointing, he said, "To-morrow we shall cross the sierras andin a few more days we shall be build-ing our homes on the great bay. Andwe shall raise our children and found agreat civilization."

"We are but common soldiers andare not given credit for much wit.but I do believe we have seen a goodomen," said Manuel. "Last night wesaw a bright star. The Father tells usthat long long ago a star shone on thedesert for three common fellows. Wehave left many hard days behind andwe shall have many more ahead. Buithat star gives us hope."

Little did the three men know thattheir hopes would be fulfilled, that fromthe homes they were to establish wouldgrow the great city of San Francisco.

22 The DESERT MAGAZINE


25/36

LANDMARKS CONTEST

JjmmdPLEASURES

There's a certain glamou rto life at the DESERTINN . . . 35 acres whereyou can enjoy your fa-vorite sports or just sun-laze to your heart's con-tent. A sort of "desertmagic" tints this land inbrighter colors, sets lifeto a gayer tempo.

Join America's smart-est winter colony atthe DESERT I IS IS . . .now in its twenty-

ninth season.

CALIFORNIA

TH ED E S E RT

IN N> HOURS FROM 1OS ANGELES

Who Knows Where this Cabin is Located?

T HIS month the Desert Magazinepresents another "Mystery Spot"for identification.

Do you know where this picture wastake n? Are the palm trees natives ofthe desert or were they planted by hu-man hands? Who owns the cabin?What is its history?

According to an unconfirmed reportwhich has reached the office of the Des-ert Magazine the little cabin in thispicture recently has been burned to thegroun d. However, it stood at the loca-tion shown in this photograph for manyyears and has been seen by hundredsof visitors.

The only clue lo the location of thecabin and palms is that they are lo-cated on the Colorado desert of South-ern California.

The "Landmark Contest" feature ofthe Desert Magazine has stirred muchinterest among readers and many an-swers have been sent in identifying anddescribing the picture shown in the No-

vember issue. The winning Novemberanswer will be published in the Januaryissue of this magazine.

PRIZE OFFER

To the person who sends to the Des-ert Magazine before D ecember 20. 1937,the most accurate identification of theabove picture together with the mostinformative story of not over 300 wordstelling the history and facts about this"mystery spot" a cash prize of $5.00will be paid.

Writers should give the source oftheir information, stating whether thefacts quoted are a matter of authori-tative record or merely hearsay.

Answers should be written on oneside of the page and addressed to Land-marks Department, Desert Magazine.El Centro. California . The name of the

winner and the text of the winning an-swer will be printed in the Februaryissue.

HETZELThe Desert

Photographer

EL CENTRO, C A LPhone 34

D e c e m b e r , 1 93 7 23


26/36


27/36

Lost City to Vanish AgainContinued from Page 5

"What has happened to the house ofour grandfather?" Arrow-Maker askedanxiously, for he noted th at only a

mound of ruins remained where th ebuilding had stood before his departureto the Valley of Fire.

"He is dead," one of the women re -plied. "W e buried him under the floorof his dwelling. In the grave with himwere placed his pet wildcat kitten andhis belongings. We would have put hisbody in the ash dump, but it was hiswish that he remain in the home he oc-cupied for so many years."

* * *

Bit by bit, as the excavations havebeen carried on at Lost City, the scien-tists have pieced together this picture ofthese ancient tribesmen. No t manyyears after the above incidents in thelife of Arrow-Maker were enacted, thepeople of the Lost C ity pueb los mi-grated to other sections of the South-west. Perhaps it w as due to drought,or to the raids of hostile tribes. Therecan be no certainty. But they vanishedfrom the homes they had occupied forcountless years, and time and the ele-ments have conspired to make the taskof reconstructing this ancient civiliza-tion very difficult indeed.

Work Started in 1924

In 1924, more than a thousand yearsafter th e Lost City had been deserted,M. R. Harrington, sponsored by theMuseum of the American Indian, NewYork, began excavations at the site. Af-ter two years th e work of the archeolo-gists was discontinued.

Then in 1929 the construction ofBoulder dam was authorizedand itbecame known that within a few yearsthe site of the Lost C ity would be sub-merged deep in the waters of a new

lake to be formed in the basin of theColorado river. It was evident that theexcavations at Lost City must be re-sumed at once, or such archeologicaltreasures as remained there would belost to the world forever.

Funds were made available in 1933,and Harrington again was placed incharge, this time as the representativeof the Southwest Museum of Los An-geles where he is now curator. Witha crew of 32 CCC men and two experi-enced foremen, th e work was carried onunder the State Par k division of the Na-

tional Park service. Excavation and re-search continued during the wintermonths of 1933 and 1934 and until

July, 1935, when the project was termi-nated for a brief interval, and then re-sumed again.

Despite th e destruction wrought bytime and vandals, over 100 homes havebeen explored. Shifting sand duneshad buried many of the old ruins, buthere and there Indian ash dumps andbits of broken pottery gave clues forthe sinking of test holes and the dis-covery of hidden structures. Some ofthe old dwellings were found at con-siderable depth, and probably there areothers too deeply buried in the accumu-lated dust and sand ever to be broughtto light.

Old Pueblo RestoredDuring the 1924 expedition the sci-

entists restored one of the pueblo housesfor public inspection. In the spring of1935 a permanent museum of stone andadobe, located above the high waterline of the lake, was erected n ear Over-ton, 65 miles from Las Vegas. Areplica of an old adobe home was builtnear the museum, and a ruin of a stillearlier period which was found on thehigher level, was restored.

Although the Southwest Museum hastaken a few of the artifacts from theLost City to complete its collection, a

majority of the relics have been re-tained for exhibit at the Overton Mu-seum.

Slowly the waters of Lake Mead arecreeping up the desert slopes toward thesite of the ancient pueblos. If Arrow-Maker and his tribesmen could returntoday perhaps in their superstitious In -dian hearts they would rejoice at theknowledge that their ancient homes andburial grounds are soon to be protectedby a barrier which even the resourcefulscientist hardly could penetrate. Butthey would have to admit that the white

man ha s

done a

very skilful jo b of re-

storing and preserving th e utensils andthe knowledge of their ancient civiliza-tion.

LANCASTER, CALIFORNIASupervisors of Los Angeles county have

petitioned the Secretary of Interior for a 50-year lease on a 1600-acre tract of public land17 miles east of this city for the purpose ofpreserving for park purposes a fine grove ofJoshua trees.

TONOPAH, NEVADAWes Moreland, former owner of a tavern

in Las Vegas has announced that he hasbought the old railroad station at Rhyoliteand will convert it into a gambling and pleas-ure resort. Rhyolite once boasted a popula-tion of 20,000 but in recent years has beenmerely another ghost mining town.

It s the Season

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D e c e m b e r , 1937 25


28/36


29/36

WANTEDDESERT PICTURES

Prize contestannouncement

T O THE amateur photographerwho sends in the best photo-graphic print each month the

Desert Magazine will pay cashprizes of $6.00 to first place and$4.00 for second place winners.

There is no restriction as to theplace of residence of the photog-rapher, but prints must be essen-tially of the desert.

Here a re the subjects which willbe favored by the judges:

Close-ups of desert animal life.

Close-ups of desert flora.Unusual personal or candid

camera pictures.Desert homes and gardens.Strange rock formations.Exceptional pictures of desert

water-holes and out-of-the-wayscenic places.

While other types of picturesar e not excluded, the above willbe given the preference.

Rules governing the contest fol-low:

1Pictures submitted in De-cember contest must be receivedin the office of the Desert Maga-zine by December 20.

2Winners will be required tofurnish original negatives if re-quested.

3Prints must be in black andwhite, 21/4x31/4 or larger.

4No pictures will be returnedunless postage is furnished.

For non-prize-winning picturesaccepted for publication .$2.00each will be paid.

Winners will be announced andthe prize pictures in the Decem-ber contest published in the Feb-ruary issue of DESERT MAGAZINE.

Address all entries to

CONTEST EDITOR, Desert MagazineEl Centro, California

RIBBONWOODA DIFFERENT PHASEOF T H E DE SE RTIn the Mountains Above

Palm Springs

Sez Hard Rock Shortyof Death Valley

By LON GARRISON

/ /r X lH E S E here scientis ts is sure funny ani-

J_ m als " crowed Hard Rock Shorty as hefinished reading last week's newspaper.He was roosted mainly on the back of his neck,well in the shade of the store porch, and hemoved a little so he could talk better.

"I just was readin ' here in the paper aboutboilin' beans in fifteen minutes in a steel pipewith caps on 'er, an' that reminds me o' themthree guys that tried to have boiled eggs forbreakfast up on Mt. Whitney last summer.

"They had to pack all the wood about two miles, an ' they'd agood pile all right, but they forgets about the elevation an' the boilin'point, an' in three minutes them eggs ain't even curdled. They justlaughs about it then an' cooks 'em ten minutes but they still ain'tdone. So one of 'em gets mad an' vows he's gonna cook them eggs ifit takes all year The other two pack wood, an ' this'n sits there pokin'the fire.

"An' Sir Do you know th at they bo iled them eggs for three weeksan' they was only one left they hadn't tried, an' just as they was aboutto open it, it hatched Yes, Sir An' so they had chicken soup."

Western Adobe HomeContinued from page 26

one side and kitchen-diner on the other.An interesting note is that one maystand on the flagged entry patio andsee the sunset colors framed in thegreat west window of the living room.

Atop the adobe walls heavy polejoists and planked ceiling are laid. Tileflooring is used througho ut. Interiordecoration is simple and harmoniouswith the western theme.

Outside dimensions, not including thetwo-car garage and guest house, are 65by 47 feet. The Minor investment forhome and landscaping is over $15,000.Cost of house construction will vary,according to location, between $8000and $10,000.

SAFFORD, ARIZONAWorkmen excavating near the William Nel-

son home at Solomonsville recently unearthedan ancient Indian olla and human skull.Other relics have been found in this samevicinity, leading to the belief that the eleva-tion on which the Nelson home stands is thesite of an ancient burial ground.

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D e c e m b e r , 1937 27


30/36

He Links Steel Age W ith Stone AgeContinued from page 19

D u c k s . . . .thousands of them

w ill g r e e t the hunter

when the season opensNovember 27.

On the Salton Sea...near Brawley

Come to the Imperial valleyof California fo r duck hunt-ing . . where there are clucksto hunt . . and make Brawleyyour headquarters.

This modern city is the stop-ping place of seasoned hunt-ers who have found they canb e p ro p e r l y o u t f i t t ed inBrawley's up-to-the-minutestores and can find comfortin Brawley's modern hotelsand motor courts. An d theyknow, too, that here theyare only a step from a para-

dise of game.

You'll like Brawley, the centerof a great, health-giving des-ert.

(This is the first of a series of ad-vertise-ments telling of interesting places and recrea-

tional facilities around Brawley.)

For More Information Write:

Chamber of CommerceBRAWLEY, CALIFORNIA

on horseback, hauling wool and hides

and blankets which they exchanged forfood and clothing."Joe W ilkin, an experienced freighter,

was granted a license to open a tradingpost on this side of the Lukaichukai.He employed me to go along and helpwith erecting the first Inlian tradingpost on this part of the Navajo reser-vation.

"Early in December. 1895, we startedfrom the Mormon settlement of Fruit-land. New Mexico. We drove two four-horse teams, drawing wagons heavilyloaded with building materials andtrading goods. Ed Dustin, of Fruit-ville, owned the teams and was one ofour party. He drove one team. JoeWilkin and I took turns driving theother. We forded the San Juan riverand headed west.

"Indians on this side had not beenissued Government wagons. There wereno roads. We followed horse trailswhen they led in the right directionmade our own when none could befound. At the end of three days we hadcovered the forty miles between Fruit-land and Sa-Noss-Tee, where the trad-ing post was to be built. We pitchedcamp in a snowstorm. In the morningthere was about a foot of snow on mybed

"Within three days we had the one-room building erected, shelving in-stalled and merchandise put away. Dur-ing part of that time Ed sat on theroof with a Winchester in his handsdriving away a little band of Navajoswho wanted no trading post.

"Here was the situation when Joeand Ed left me alone in the deserttaking the horses and wagons back tothe river. The ground was blanketed

with snow. The Indians were notpleased by the trading post. The silencewas so deep I could almost hear it.No t a message from the world outside;no t a white visitor to be seen for morethan two months

desert magazine 1937 december

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