194101 Desert Magazine 1941 January

8/14/2019 194101 Desert Magazine 1941 January

1/48


2/48

Come and See the . . .D e s e r t C a v a l c a d e

C A L E K IC O I N V I T E S V O Ut o t h e D e s e r t S o u t h w e s t ' s G r e a t e s t P a g e a n tFEBRUARY 20, 21, 22, 1941Turn back the pages of History and spend two days inCalcxico. You'll seesights youhave never seen be-fore for History will beenacted before your eyes. Tak-ing part inthe pageants, plays and entertainment willbe scouts, trappers, covered wagons, miners and bur-ros andevery other type of character that once ex-plored the great Southwest.9 Why theCavalcade? Just this: Trying as times andtrails were, theearly explorers and settlers setasidea period each year torejoice . . . cares were forgotten. . . hospitality was the keynote.9 That wemay perpetuate thenoble spirit of theearlyadventures we declare February 20, 21 and 22, 1941. . . a time ofMerry-making, Laughter and Music.9 Come and relive thedays of the pioneers! They havegone but in theDESERT CAVALCADE youstill canfeel their presence . . . they ARE here!

THRILL TOTHE MEXICALItlillillmsF E B R U A R Y 2 3 , 24 , AND 25 , 19 413 D A Y S OF G A I E T Y I N OLD M E X I C O9 Visit the colorful land ofManana . . . spend a lazy dayin the romantic and colorful atmosphere ofMexicali, inOldMexico. And forreal "desert rats" thedesert surroundingCalexico is aparadise of the unusual. Petrified forest, pro-fusion of odd rocks and gems, beautiful sandstone forma-tions, wild life, scenic canyonsthese andmany more.9 Be sure to behere February 20, 21 and 22, 1941 aswellas February 23, 24 and 25. For colorful booklet, pro-gram and suggested trips please write to C. F.REY-NOLDS, Manager, Chamber of Commerce, Calexico,California.

SponsoredByWINTER CHAMBERFESTIVAL and OFASSOCIATION COMMERCEC a l e x i c o , California

" C A L E X I C O ON THE B O R D E R "

6 0 I I I G E f l S T O R G O I N G W E S T

Spend aday atNeedlesCome when you choose, you'll always find an interest-ing variety of things todoregardless of theseason.Foranytime is the right time inNEEDLES.

NEEDLES LAND O F CONTRASTAt Needles you can enjoy your favorite sport or hob-by the year around. Does exploring and climbing appealto you? Try climbing Monument Peak, the demon pinnaclethat for centuries defied allclimbers. Ifit's gems and rocksyou're after: you'll find some fine specimens onTurtleMountains. Is itfishing? Pack your rod and tackle and headfor NEEDLES! AtLake Havasu you'll find bass, crappie,blue gill and many others.So bo it photography, painting orwhatelse, come toNEEDLES. Whether youstay a day, a week-end orjuststop enroute, when you leave wefeel sure you will say,"I LIKE NEEDLES."Needles knows how totreat atraveler us afriend! Hotels, courtsand cafes are many andmost rea-sonable. It will be a pleasure toanswer specific questions of any Xs o n . jnu drop a note totheCHAMBER OF COMMERCEWhen may ire expect you? CALIF O RNIA

K E E P Y O U R D E S E R T m f l G A Z I I l E SBack files of theDesert Magazine become more valu-able each year . They areprized because of the wealthof accurate information they contain, andthefine refer-ence index published each October.S u p p l y of b a c k c o p ie s l im i te dAs a result of theconstant demand for back numbers,the reserve supplv available for those preserving com-plete files is limited. Subscribers desiring to secure prev-ious issues should notwait too long toplace their orders.No 1copy (November '37) is nolonger available,andsome of the other monthly issues arerunning low. Whilethey are available, however, they will besold atthe regu-lar subscription rates, asfollows:12 back num bers $2.5024 back numbers 4.00Single copies .25(No single copy orders will befilled for theissues ofNo-vember '37, and May '39)S p e c i a l o f f e r t o n e w S u b s c r i b e r sMany hundreds ofnew subscribers are being added toour lists beginning with January, 1941. For a limited timewe can furnish acomplete back file from the time the Des-ert Magazine was started (with the exception of the No.1issue) 37copies inall, for $5.00Gold embossed loose leaf binders, each with space for12 num bers, areavai lable at$1.00 each.

WANTEDWe are paying $2.50 each for all theNo. 1copies wecan obtain. We have awaiting list ofordersfor them. Check will bemailed promptly onreceipt ofthe November, 1937 issue, ingood condition.

El Centre CaliforniaThe DESERT MAGAZINE


3/48

D E S E R T

DEC. 28 -JAN. 1Southwestern Sun Car-nival and Sun Bowl game in ElPaso,Texas . OldTimers Day, Dec.31-J A N . 1 New Year dances, various In-dian pueblos, New Mexico.6 Feast of the Three Kings (OldChr is tmas ) inSpanish-American vil-lages of New Mexico.6 Installation of newly elected gover-nors in New Mexican Indian pueb-los.10 Beginning series of horse races, eachFriday, Saturday and Sunday untilMarch 2, at State fair grounds, Phoe-nix, Arizona.11 Weekend tr ip of Southern CaliforniaSierra club to Rainbow canyon andCoolidge Springs, Colorado desert.Indian caves, village sites and miner-al and fossil beds. Leader: DickFreeman.15 State memb ership m eeting of Ari-zona Spanish-American club inPhoe-nix, Arizona.15 Close of theAloe blooming seasonin derert plant gardens of SanMar-ino, California. (Began Decem ber1 5 ) .21 Opening of exhibit of Indian art atMuseum of Modern Art , New YorkCity. Greatest single showing of In-dian art in United States, represent-ing prehistoric, historic andmodernphnses. Arizona tribes are foremostexhibitors. John Collier, chairmanof Indian arts andcrafts board, isdirector.23 Feast Day of San Ildefonso, with an-nual fiesta andBuffalo dance, at SinIldefonso pueblo, New Mexico.25 Lost Palm canyon in Eagle moun-tains, site of weekend tr ip for Sierraclub, led by Randall Henderson. (SeeDesert Magazine, October 1940 formap and s tory) .31-FEB. 2 Western Open Golf tourna-ment at Phoenix Country Club. Sec-ond largest tourney in nation, prizestotal $5,000.31-FEB. 2 Imperia l Winter VegetableMardi Gras , at ElCentro, California.An event of the Wintert ime Sun Fes-tival of California.

2 9 P A L M SWhere Ultra-Violet RaySpends the Day.In all the California Deserts there is noneto compare with the Valley of the 29 Palms.For story and map of this "Treasure Island"of the Desert, see page 24 of the Decemberissue of Desert Magazine. Also see back

cover of same issue.{The FREE PICTURE offer isstill openjust send a post card or clip the coupon) 2 9 PflLmS

BUREAU629 S. Hill St. Los Angeles, California

Volume 4 JANUARY, 1941 Number 3COVERCALENDARLOST MINEPERSONALITYPHOTOGRAPHYDISCOVERYBOTANYFIELD TRIPFICTIONARTLANDMARKDIARYPOETRYARCHAEOLOGYTRAVELOGPRIZE CONTESTPUZZLEPLACE NAMESCONTRIBUTORSHOBBYWEATHERLETTERSHOBBYNEWSMININGCOMMENTBOOKS

DESERT NOM ADS, by David A nderson, O gden, UtahCurrent events on thedese r t 3Los t Gu a da l u pe Tre a s u reBy JOHN D.MITCHELL 4Fig Tree John 's Gun Was Never LeadedBy NINA PAUL SHUMWAY and LELAND YOST 5Prize winning pictures inDe c e m be r 8Inscription at Hwoye Spr ingBy RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH . . . 9Devil 's ProtegeBy MARY BEAL 12Spec imens From anold Mine DumpBy JOHN W. HILTON 13Hard Rock Shorty ofDeath Va l leyBy LON GARRISON 16Artist Who Uses Bigger BrushesBy JOHN W. HILTON 17Mexican Ha tBy G. B. MILLER 18De c e m be r at Ya qu i t e pe cBy MARSHAL SOUTH 19MOJAVE, and o the r poems 21Good Luck Shrines of the DesertBy ARTHUR WOODWARD 22Waterfal l inP a l m C a nyonBy RANDALL HENDERSON . 24Announc e m e n t of January Landmark contes t . . 29DESERT QUIZ, a test ofyour dese r t knowledge . 30Origin of n a m e s in theSouthwes t 31Wri te rs of the Desert 32Cac tusedi ted by LUCILE HARRIS 34Nove m be r t e m p e ra t u res onthe desert 35Comment f rom Dese r t Magaz ine leaders . . . 36Ge m s a nd Mi ne ra l s Edited byARTHUR L. EATON 38Here and There on the desert 42Briefs from thedesert region 45Just Between You and Meby the Editor . . . 46Reviews ofcurrent books of the Southwest . . . 47

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company, 636State Street, El Centre, California. Entered as second class mattor October 11, 1937, atthe post office at El Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registeredNo . 358865 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1941 by the Desert PublishingCompany. Permission to reproduce contents must be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor.

TAZEWELL H. LAMB and LUCILE HAERIS, Associate Editors.Richard B. Older, Advertising Representative, 416 Wall St., Los Angeles, Calif. Phone TR 1501Manuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied by full return post-age. The Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscriptsor photographs although due care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address to the circulation department by the fifth of the monthpreceding issue.

SUBSCRIPTION RATES: 1 year $2.50 2 years or two subscriptions $4.00Canadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extraAddress subscription letters and correspondence to Desert Magazine, El Centro, California

J A N U A R Y , 1941


4/48

According to legend, there are fabulous r iches in si lver and gold to befound somewhere near the o ld Tumacacor i miss ion in sou thern Ar izona .According to John Mitchell , the author , there were two Tumacacori mis-sions, however , and the fo r tune hun ters who have sought th is t reasurehave cen tered the i r quest in the wrong area . Anyway , here i s the s to ry ,

By JOHN D. MITCHELLIllustration by Mary Anderson

ROM 1508 to 1648 the minecalled the Virgin Guadalupebelonged to Tumacacori. Itmeasured one league from the big doorof the mission to the southwest, and fromthe waters of the San Ramon it measured1800 varas to the north. Two hundredvaras before arriving at the mine thereis a black rock marked with a cross andthe letters CCD-TD on the under side ofthe stone. Fifty varas from the cross ofChrist to the south will be found slabsof virgin silver weighing from twenty-five to two hundred and fifty poundseach. From here 200 varas in a south-westerly direction there are two peakstorn down by placing powder in thecliffs. The signs of the mine remain blot-ted out and people could pass over "herocks treading on the values and neversee them."The enclosure is 50 varas square cov-ering up the treasure inside and outsideof the mine. There are 2050 mule loadsof virgin silver and 905 loads of goldand silver. The total value amounts to$45,000,000 pesos."The above information was taken froman old document which is said, upongood authority, to have been copied fromthe church records in Spain. There is al-so a tradition among the Indians livingin the vicinity of the mission that themine was discovered by Indians in theyear 1508 and that it was being workedby them for its rich surface ores whenthe Spaniards landed their ships on thecoast of Mexico in 1519, and that in1540 Spaniards accompanying Coronadoon his famous expedition to the northin quest of the golden treasures of theSeven Cities of Cibola, found the Indiansin possession of the fabulously rich mine.

The Spaniards confiscated the mine andbuilt a mission of their own near theIndian temple. The mine was called theVirgin Guadalupe after their patronsaint.The Indians called their village Tuma-cacori (spelled Tumtacor on old Spanishmaps in possession of the writer). Thevillage and Indian temple were locatedabout 25 miles northwest of the presentruins of the Tumacacori mission whichwas built in 1698 on the west bank ofthe Santa Cruz river on account of therich agricultural lands to be found there.The lower mission is located near theSan Cayetano mountain and is often re-ferred to by the Indians as Tumacacoride San Cayetano, in order to distinguishit from the upper mission which was lo-cated on the southern slopes of the Cer-rita mountains and in a very rich min-ing district.

The Lost Guadalupe has been soughtpersistently for many years in the vicini-ty of the lower mission by prospectorsand adventurers who evidently were notaware of the fact that there were twoTumacacori missions. One man is saidto have spent 12 years and $25,000searching for the Guadalupe mine andthe great treasure in the Tumacacorimountains to the west of the lower mis-sion. This man is said to have had inhis possession a copy of an old documentcopied from the church records in Spain,but like many others he did not knowthat there were two missions and thatthe Guadalupe and several other richmines described in the old document are

all located in the Cerrita mountains inthe vicinity of the upper mission.Extensive ruins on the southern slopesof the Cerritas, and old caved workingsin the vicinity indicate beyond a doubtthat considerable mining operations werecarried on there by the Indians and laterby the Spaniards. Just why the mine wasclosed and abandoned in 1648 is un-known, but it is presumed to have beenraided by the Indians in one of the num-erous uprisings that occurred about then.A considerable amount of treasure has,at different times, been found in and a-round the lower mission. This treasureconsists of candlesticks, silver crosses, andconsiderable bullion which was supposedto have been left by the Franciscan fath-ers when they abandoned the mission in1823 because of the Mexican revolu-tion and the accompanying Indian raids.However, the great treasure that has beenso persistently sought by Mexicans andAmericans alike for more than 80 years,is undoubtedly located in the vicinity ofthe upper and earlier mission, which ac-cording to tradition was built and de-stroyed sometime between the years 1540and 1648. The mine is said to have beenabandoned and the mountain peaks shotdown over the mouth of the tunnel toconceal the rich ore and the vast treasurethat had accumulated during the longyears that the mine was worked by theIndians and later by the Spanish invad-ers and their Indian neophytes.

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


5/48

Fig Tree John was living in a crude jacal on the shore of Salton sea nearthe eastern tip of the Santa Rosa range when the first white settlers came tothe Colorado desert. He remained there until his death in 1927. He resentedthe coming of the white menand their trespass on what he considered hisown tribal hunting ground. His threatening attitude toward visitors at times,gained him the reputation of being a "bad Indian." Fiction writers who mag-nified his faults and presented him as a shameless rascal, have done him aninjustice. He was no saint, but his hostility toward intruders was due morelikely to resentment and fear than to inherent maliciousness. Desert Magazineeditors wanted a true appraisal of Fig Tree Johnhance the accompanyingstory by Nina Paul Shumway and Leland Yost, who knew Fig Tree as a fre-quent caller at their ranch homes.

The origin of this frayed bluearmy uniform remained amystery, but Fig Tree John al-ways wore it and the "topper"when he attended the whiteman's fiestas. Photograph fromthe C. C. Pierce collection.

rig I

By NINA PAUL SHUMWAY and LELAND YOST

/ V T was the 25th of December but the California sunV/ beamed ardently on the crowd that was beginning togather around the long barbecue tables in the littledesert town of Coachella. Ungreased wheels screeching, abuggy crawled down the dusty street and stopped under alacy avalanche of pepper-tree branches where a dozen or moreother Indian rigs and saddle-ponies were tied in the shade.A manclimbed down and, followed by an ample brown wom-an in full-skirted calico, started toward the barbecue tables.Before the pair had taken a score of steps, cameras were outin the crowd. Someone shouted:"Hi, Fig Tree, stand still. I want to take your picture."The man halted and stood there in the blaze of desert sun-light, a grotesque yet oddly dignified figure. His short mus-cular body was clothed in a frayed blue army uniform whosebrass buttons glittered. On his head, almost resting en hisears was a tall black silk "topper," a bit rusty and scuffed bytime and use, but still impressive. Under its brim shrewdblack eyes looked out through slits in a strong dark maskof bone and skin carved by age as boulders are carved byerosion. He did not lean on the cane he carried. It was mere-ly for effectpart of the costume he always wore for galaoccasions like this Christmas celebration of 1910.That is howmany of us whowere Coachella valley pioneers

best remember Fig Tree John. It is a sort of landmark in ourmemories. We would like to keep it, as we try to keep ourother landmarks, from being defaced by vandals. We wouldlike to replace in popular thought the false picture of a vileand degenerate savage that fiction has painted, the dirtydaub of rumor, with a recognizable likeness of Fig TreeJohnchief of the Agua Duke (Sweet Water) clan of Ca-huilla Indianswhose name and colorful personality inter-woven with the earliest history of this valley, our Pioneersociety is to commemorate with a boulder bearing an in-scribed tablet.Others among his race, primitive inhabitants of the Coa-chella section of the Colorado desert, were outstanding menof their type. Fig Tree belonged to no type. He was an in-dividualist. They were Indians. He was Fig Tree John.According to his son, Johnny Mack, Fig Tree John was in

his 136th year and still fairly sound of mind and body whenan attack of flu took him off on April 11, 1927. No one whohad seen him could doubt this reckoning. His feet, more thanhis face, showed how far he had come over the primitive trailof time. Horny and splayed like an ancient eagle's they hadlost almost the last trace of human semblance. Usually theywere bare, though he could crowd them into shoes if the oc-

J A N U A R Y , 1941


6/48

casion were important enough. Likemany of the older Cahuillas he some-j the nativp sandals meremost of the older Cahuillas with whitemen.

W O "3footpads of matted ynrra fjbrf IP i n r h " rmore_tbick, held nn hy thongs. Whentraveling without hiswife he rode horse-back, until about 1910. After that heused the buggy which apparently neverknew the benefit of axle-grease.His real name was Juanita Razon.Chester A. Pinkham, who came to thevalley in 1891, often wrote letters forhim. Mr.Pinkham frequently camped bythe spring on Fig Tree's rancheria, andcame to know him as well as a whiteman could. He explained to Fig Treethat Juanita was the feminine of Juanito,little John (or as he would say,Johnny).It made no difference. Fig Tree insistedthat the name be signed Juanita andcarebe taken that the accent mark be placedover the last syllable of Razon.

His nickname came from the plantingof Black Mission figs around the springbeside which he live*d in a wattled jacala hut of arrow weed andmud, a prim-itive type of dwelling he never gave up.The trees were mature when the firstwhite settlers came to thevalley. The cut-tings must have been brought from oneof the missions, probably when Juanitaattended one of the great Indian gather-ings to which all the peaceful tribes,designated after thecoming of the padresas Mission Indians, were invited.

It is a mark of his distinction that theywere the only fig trees in that part ofthe country. And, as there were manyJuans or Johns, FigTree John became anatural identification tag among whitemen. His spring, well known for itsgood water, was called by the Cahuillasin their own tor *\e, Pal-tookvush-kia-kia-ya-ivet ' 6 blue water. It be-came kn>_ ,.i as "FigTree John Spring"and the name wasgiven permanence andsome historic importance by its appear-ing on all early maps and governmentsurveys of the region.

The physical and mental differencesthat set Fig Tree John apart from histribesmen gave rise to the stubborn ru-mor that hewas not a Cahuilla but a rene-gade from Arizona. Those of his racewh o did not like him, supported this.An d a semblance of fact is given it byan incident told by Mr. Pinkham:

A friend of his, Jim Black, seeing FigTree for the first time, exclaimed, "H ello ,where did that Apache come from?" Onbeing told that Fig Tree was one of thelocal Cahuillas, Black said, "No, posi-tively no. And I'll prove it." He thensaluted FigTree in the Apache tongue.Fig Tree, apparently pleased, returnedthe greeting in the same language. Blacksaid FigTree hadadmitted he came fromArizona many years before. The twomen carried on their subsequent conver-sation in Spanishthe language used by

Evidence gathered on the Martinezreservation, headquarters of the CahuillaIndian agency, discredits the story thatFig Tree was an Apache. On the reser-vation theRazons are regarded as an oldand well-established Cahuilla family.This is their standing among the clansrepresented at Santa Rosa, Cahuilla, PalmSprings, Cabezon and Morongo. FigTree John died on the Martinez reserva-tion and is buried there in the Catholiccemetery. Hiswife, a sonJake, and anonly daughterMrs. John Roxie, are al-so buried there. Hisbrother, Billy Razonwhose birth date appears on the agencyregister as 1851, and a nephew name-sake of Fig Tree's, Juanito' Razon, liveon the reservation. There is another neph-ew, Henry Matthews, who works out-side the valley. This is too much familybackground for a renegadethe lonewolf from another tribe.

August Lomas, an intelligent andwelleducated Cahuilla whose father waschiefof the Martinez clan, said positively, "Iknow Juanita Razon was a Cahuilla. Mypeople have always known his. He mar-ried a woman of the Cabezon clan. Hewas chief of the Agua Duke clan. InCahuilla that is To-va. But the real nameof the clan is Tama-ka-ha-chim."Johnny Mack, the sole survivor of FigTree's immediate family, also used thisclan name when talking of his father'sorigin. He said it meant Indians that inthe beginning came from theEast. (Couldthat have been what Fig Tree told Mr.Blackand been misunderstood?)Johnny says that his father was bornat what white men called FigTree Johnspring; that Fig Tree inherited thisspring and adjacent lands to the southand west from his father, and that waswhy he had claimed ownership of them.The Southern Pacific railroad, eitherfrom kindness or diplomacy, waived itsclaim to the land until Fig Tree Johnwas gone. The era waspast when JohnnyMack Razon could hope to inherit thelands of his ancestors. His birthplace ispart of the Beach-Vessey ranch, andJohnny, now 67 years of age, works atthe Stratton place on the north shore ofSal ton sea.Fig Tree John, perhaps because he wastoo old when the change came, perhapsbecause his nature was too primitive andtoo unyielding, could not accept the fateof his race; he could only fear it. Hisactions show that after the coming of thesettlers he was constantly badgered byfear of being put off the desolate ranch-eria which had been his home for closeto a century.His defenses were up.Always he triedto impress upon white men the import-ance of his chieftaincy, the vastness ofhis domain and his absolute rule over it.His sweeping gesture of dominion would

take in the whole vast stretch of water-less wilderness to the south of Rabbitpeak in the lower Santa Rosa range, andeast to Salton sea.He resented any infringement of hisauthority. At one time he put a barb-wire fence around his spring. WhenChester Pinkham came he unquestioning-ly camped outside the enclosure and car-ried water to his burros. Later, whenPinkham was accompanied by a partner,the partner scorned Fig Tree's tabu. Bedarned if any old so-and-so would makehim pack water! He'dcamp inside, rightby the spring.When they were settled Fig Tree ap-peared and sternly ordered them outsidethe fence. The partner refused to move.Fig Tree got his old Winchester andpointed it. The partner reached for hisown gun. Fig Tree lowered his, andmarched off. But the next time ChesterPinkham came, Fig Tree did not greethim in the customary way as amigofriend, but asbombreman.

If there wasnothing to arouse his in-stinctive fear of the white man's power,Fig Tree John could bekind andhospit-able. An instance of this was when hesaved the life of another partner of Pink-ham's. This youth, "Babe" Smith, rash-ly undertook against Pinkham's advice tospend the summ" in the Carriso sectionof the desert far to the south of FigTree's rancheria. He lost his burros andcame crawling half dead into Fig Tree'sjacal. TheIndian kept himthere a week,caring for himuntil he could travel, thentook himhorseback into Mecca, thenear-est outpost of civilization.The old days were passing and withthem the freedom of the desert's child-ren. The other Cahuillas, by their verydocility, were leagued with the whites.It left FigTree alone against the world.He set a line of mesquite posts alongwhat he considered his north boundaryline and forbade even those of his ownrace to cross it. His order wasbacked bya threatening display of his ancient 44-40 model 63 Winchester carbine. TheIndian agent, then stationed at San Ja-cinto, was notified of this outrage. Hecame down with some Indian police. FigTree defied them. He hfcld them off,too, with his antique firearm until a pairof them circled round through thebrushand grabbed him from behind. Thepapers made themost of this uprising. Itwas evident that old Fig Tree John wasa bad Indian.

At various times thereafter he orderedintruders off his rancheria, menacingthem with the Winchester. This didn'timprove his reputation. Eventually thegun proved to be unloaded and minuscertain essential shooting-parts. But aslong as nobody knew it but Fig Tree,the bluff worked.By 1914 he had not been seriously mo-lested and felt secure in his stronghold.

The DESERT MAGAZINE


7/48

Once the Paul family loaded up the hay-rack and made an overnight campingtrip to Salton sea, whose shore lay with-in the Razon boundary. Fig Tree keptthem under his eyes, but beyond warningthem that they were on private property,he offered no objection to their visit.When all were in bed and everythingquiet for the night, he and his wife re-turned to their jacal. By that time thishad been moved back to Agua Dulcespring, now on the Daras Cox ranch,where Fig Tree lived after the Coloradobroke through and poured into the Saltonbasin in 1905-7, inundating the home-site at Fig Tree John spring.At dawn he creaked back in his buggyto stand guard for the day. He broughtalong a battered straw suitcase contain-ing his uniform and top hat in which heoffered to pose for his photograph, priceun peso.Where he got this historic outfit is amystery. Hearsay has it that the uniformwas issued to him by the governmentwhen he acted as a scout for GeneralFremont. There seems to be no soundbasis for this story. His name is not listedwith those of U. S. scouts. Yet JohnnyMack insists that his father acted as ascout for Fremont. It is reasonable toconclude that in an unofficial capacityFig Tree guided a detachment: of sol-diers across the badlands at the extremelower end of the Santa Rosas in the re-gion of 17 Palms.Johnny does not claim that the uniformwas a relic of his father's service. Hedoesn't know just how either that or thehat was acquired. But he says that ashe remembers it, once when he was avery little boy his father took him toLos Angeles to some kind of Indianmeeting. He thinks that there somebodygave Fig Tree the outfit.Anyway it was a fine thing to havewhen the cameras came along. And FigTree soon learned to put a price on pos-ing in it. He had a talent for makingmoney, rare even in the educated Ca-huilla. When the original Southern Pa-cific tracks were submerged by the out-break of the Colorado river that formedthe present Salton sea, Fig Tree Johnhired a crew of Indians to salvage theties that washed ashore. There was aready market for them among incomingsettlers who needed fenceposts. Th erailroad again respected Fig Tree's"rights" and the old chief did a thrivingbusiness as long as the ties lasted.

Trading was another way in which heshowed his commercial instinct, especial-ly horse trading. In early days he alwaysmanaged to keep a herd of lean ponieson his rancheria. And he made a goodthing out of swapping them. He likedto spend two or three days dickering,getting all the fun and profit that couldbe squeezed out of a deal.His love of barter was carried even in-

Fig Tree John a nd his ivi\e, in their later years, drove to Mecca in a bitckboardto the kitchens of friendly housewives inthe Oasis districtthe agricultural set-tlement nearest his rancheria and thehousewives very seldom came out ahead.When Mrs. Yost leceived a watermelonfrom Fig Tree's patch, she gave, by re-quest, a bag of sugar, or a pound of cof-fee. Yet he would always present hisoffering with the ceremonious air of mak-ing a gift. Then he would sit aroundletting his generosity soak in before heindicated what he would be pleased toaccept in return.

When he had nothing to exchange, hetried just asking for what he wanted. Itoften worked. He made a habit of call-ing about once a week on various house-wives and frankly stating what food hecraved. Usually he got it. There was onestartling exception. He made his regularcall at a certain home and found nobodyaround but the small boy of the familya great friend of Fig Tree's. Fig Treeasked where the sefiora was, and theyoungster took the old chief by the handand led him upstairs and into the roomwhere the lady was in her bath. Foronce Fig Tree left without asking foranything.Despite his independence, Fig Tree inhis later years depended more and moreon the generosity of his white neighborsfor his food supply. With increasing age,and the scarcity of wild game, his tripsinto the Santa Rosas on hunting andforaging trips became less frequent. Theseeds and nuts and roots of the aboriginaldiet were hard to gather and prepare,and were not nearly so tasty or easy onthe gums as corned beef and cannedpeacheshis favorite dainties.

His visits to the store at Mecca wereimportant occasions. They were alwaysmade on a week-day when the clerks

would have plenty of time to give him.Mrs. Razon was permitted to purchasecloth and trinkets, but Fig Tree boughtthe provisions. With great deliberationhe selected one article at a time and paidfor it before going on to the next. Atthe end he never forgot to ask for thepenalthe gift that among the Mexicanstakes the place of our cash discount.Fig Tree paid cashor its equivalent.There are reliable people who say thathe sometimes paid "Gene" Hill, thepioneer merchant at Mecca, with rawgold. Mr. Hill is dead and there is noway to prove the report, which has beentwisted into all sorts of shapes from theusual lost mine to the myth about aprospector murdered for his gold.If Fig Tree ever had raw gc u hispossession, the chances are he receivedit in payment for a pony or provisionseither from a prospector or an Indianfrom the Colorado river country wheregold was fairly plentiful in early days.But that is only a guess.Many people have asked for fhe truthabout Fig Tree John. The best we cando is to winnow out what obviously

was false or purely speculative and togather what few authentic facts, inci-dents, details, memories and pictures re-main. The truth about a man is as deepas his soul.When talking over the drama of earlydays as it had affected his father, JohnnyMack said, b atting at the flies that swarm-ed over from a nearby corral, "Whitemen are like flies; you fight one off andanother comes."All right, Johnny Mack. Our race de-serves that from yours. And what doflies know of the souls of the men they

tormentold, old desert men like FigTree John standing in the sun?J A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1


8/48

Cjlaw.By MRS. CARYL R. FIRTHTrappe, MarylandWinner of the first prize inthe monthly contest conductedby the Desert Magazine wastaken in late afternoon nearTucson, Arizona, with a SpeedGraphic 3'/4x4!/4 camera, Sup-er Plenachrome film, K2 filter,25 sec, f4.5.

By LOUIS R. CAYWOODNogales, ArizonaAwarded second prize in the November contest.Taken with a 9x12 cm. Maxima B. camera, f4.5 Tes-sar lens, 1/25 sec. at f5.6. Infra red filter.

Special MetitThe following photographs were considered bythe judges to have exceptional merit:"Monument Valley," by Fred Hankins, Taft, Calif."Great White Throne," by C. D. Clearwater, Pa-

cific Palisades, California."Twenty Nine Palms," by K. L. Post, Orange, Cali-fornia.


9/48

Some 35 years before Father Kino wasfounding Tuniacacori and San Xavier Mis-sions in southern Arizona, the mysterious Spaniard Don Pedro de Montoya carvedhis name on a sandstone slab at Hivoye Spring near Steamboat Canyon in Apache

County, Arizona.

2Jn5ctlptlon atBy RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH

/ y ARVED on a sandstone slab fall-( en from the crumbly walls of asmall cove near Steamboat canyonin northern Arizona is an ancient Span-ish inscription, which as far as writtenhistory records had never been seen bywhite men before November. 1939.My first hint of the existence of oldSpanish inscriptions in the Hopi countrycame in 1933 when I was at the villageof Shungopovi witnessing the Poivamu,or Bean dance. As a guest of Luis Pinto,the son of the old snake priest, Hanowa-tewa, it had been a rare experience toshinny down the ladder of the Bear kivaand see the last night dance of the kat-

chinas or God impersonators.In the muggy grey of the morningJ A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1

after the dance Luis guided me downthe twisting and worn trail that led fromthe house-hive perched on the rim ofthe mesa. When a lower bench wasreached, the vast ruin of Old Shungopovispread out before us. While we walkedthrough the litter of trash, potteryshards, and fallen walls, the young Hopirecalled the 800-year-old tradition of theancient pueblo.

We came finally to the site of an oldSpanish mission. While I was trying tooutline the plan of the adobe and rub-ble walls which had long ago fallen andmelted back into the earth, I caughtsomething Luis said, "Long agoone ofthe Spaniards carved his name on a rockmany miles east of here!"

A s far as is known, the re-cords of the Spanish conquista-dores do not mention Pedro deMontoya. He may have been asoldier, or a simple muleteer.But he c am p e d at a remotespring in the region nowknownas northern Arizona 274 yearsagoand left a record of hisvisit there. Van Valkenburghw a s the discoverer of the old in-scription, and here is the story,printed for the first time.When I pressed him for more detail

about the exact location, he waved hisarm to the east as he said, "Siovahu, theysay," and would talk no more. I wrotethe word down quickly and made up mymind to search for the inscription.During the following years I made in-quiry among my Navajo and Hopifriends. The word was strange to theHopi as it was the Navajo, and I gainednot a single clew as to the location ofthe elusive Siovahu. When I returnedlater to Shungopovi to have another trywith Luis, his family was in mourning.He had died the week before.Then, one day in October of 1939,

Howela Polacca, the son of the old Mor-mon Hopi who had founded the village


10/48

' , . " " ' " * " , ' * * -''' ."?: " BALUK'A MESA

' ' ' - ' l i S ^

-

7 0 CHIMES S . . ., * V - - CRNVON 0E CHILLY :: :" - ' ,. . . " 3 3 / W : ' - '

OLD HOPI . ,TRAIL TO ZUNI

, : .: , ^ : . v ^ , S T E A M B O A T C A N Y O NI i.. - . . >.j 5 . . J&BCAR SP R

. *

TO CHAMBERS SU.S. HY66V9 Ml.' V. 0iO

5UNRISE T. R

ft. 4-of Polacca in 1890, came to my office atFort Defiance. He asked me to assist himin preparing a memorial to his father.While digging through my note books,I came upon the smudged words that Ihad written down when Luis had men-tioned the inscription six years before.

I mentioned it to Howela. He lookedpuzzled, as had the other Hopi. I tracedit with a soft pencil. Howela studied itfor a moment, and then laughed, "Youhave been saying it wrong all theseyears. It is a spring. Slovahii means theSpring of W ild Onions. The Navajocall it Hivoye, Fear Place."Hwoye Spring struck home! It wasknown to me as an important wateringplace 40 miles northwest of my home atFort Defiance, Arizona. Feeling that Luishad been telling the truth, I made plansfor the search with Roy Dunn, a friendof mine and the son of Ray Dunn, pio-neer Indian trader of Navajo mountainand Fort Defiance.The slaty clouds promised snow whenwe left the oasis of Fort Defiance onecrisp morning in November. After crest-ing the summit of the ponderosa pinecovered Defiance plateau at Burnt Firhill, we followed the graveled road downthe western slope through lavender col-ored sage plains into the crumbly varie-

gated hills of the valley of the PuebloColorado.We stopped at Ganado, Arizona fora short visit at the rambling frontierhome of Don Lorenzo Hubbell, one ofthe first white traders to the Hopi andNavajo. Then we rumbled across thewooden bridge of the ice crusted PuebloColorado wash and crunched over thepastel colored shales of Snake hill. Righthere, let me tell you that when it rains,this is the slimiest, stickiest stretch ofmud in the Navajo country.Soon we came to Lizard Springs fork.Taking the west fork, for the east led

to Chinlee and the Canyon de Chelly,we crossed a sweeping plain hemmed inby cinnabar colored mesas and punctu-ated by lonely clumps of dusty-green ju-niper trees. The twisting down-grade thatcuts from the plains into Steamboat can-yon slowed our pace. After passingSteamboat crag, a vast monolith of Da-kota sandstone, the canyon opened andwe came to the small settlement ofSteamboat canyon.We turned north off the main roadand followed a rutted wagon trail for amile. Getting out of our car at the endof the road, we walked a short distance.Soon, we found a veritable autographalbum of rocks. Taking advantage of the

excellent cross-light, we shot pictures.Many of the names carved on the rockswere recognized as those of pioneer Ari-zonans who had passed through the re-gion in the 1870s to settle at Snowflakeand St. Johns.

Going deeper into the cove, v e fol-lowed the trail that was being pinched inbetween the converging chrome-coloredcanyon walls. When the rinconada wasreached, the spring of Hwoye gleamedlike obsidian in the slanting shadows castby the overhanging ledges. We were atthe spring. Now where was the Spanishinscription?It was moist and cool in the grotto

where the spring seeped from moss cov-ered rocks. There was little room, forthe alcove was almost filled with a mass-ive rock which in ages past had crasheddown from the crumbly ceiling. Whilenoting the names that had been carvedon this rock since 1890, I glanced at thewall above me. Vague lines began to takeform in the semi-darkness. I looked clos-er and read:"SHALL I NOT DR INK IT?"St. John.Colyer

1869.Clasped hands were carved in the cen-ter. Beside one was an arrow and near10 T h e D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


11/48

the other was an American flag. Appar-ently Colyer had intended to signalizethe new peace between the Navajo andthe Americans upon the signing of theTreaty of 1868 at Fort Sumner, NewMexico. We suspected that Colyer wasa soldier out of Fort Wingate, NewMexico.Still hunting for the Spanish inscrip-tion, I spied a series of ancient Anasazihpetroglyphs in another section of thegrotto. Working through the litter ofrocks, I came to a small slab which hadbeen split from the main massive. Thebase appeared to have been partially ex-posed by erosion. I had to bend to lookunder its low rim. After focusing myeyes to the dim light, I jumped up andyelled to Roy, "Luis was right! We haveit! It's the old Spanish inscription!"Roy scrambled around the big rockand we read together:"A 20 DE ABRIL ANO DE 1666,

Po DE MONTOYA."For some moments we thought itmight be a hoax. However, upon closerinspection and study of the form of writ-ing in comparison with those we hadseen at Inscription Rock at El Morro,New Mexico, we grew sure of 'he au-thenticity of our inscription.Roy grinned at me as he said, "Van,it looks like we have just found the earli-est Spanish inscription yet known in Ari-zona!"I thought a minute before answering,"No! Confound the luck! Old Pedrowas five years later than the mysteriousCarlos Arnais who inscribed his name inNavajo canyon in 1661. This is near In-scription House in Navajo national mon-ument 50 miles north of Tuba City."W e sketched a facsimile of our dis-covery and then twisted ourselves intopretzels to shoot good angles with ourcameras. Soon the necessary work wasfinished and as night was rapidly settling,we returned our steps back down thecanyon to our car. While the lights to

our homeward bound car cut a gleamingpath through the enveloping darkness,we both talked and wondered who Pedrcde Montoya could have been.Before Christmas I went to Shungo-povi to visit Luis' father and mother. Allthat I could get from them was that Sio-vahu spring was a famed watering placeon the old Hopi salt trail to Zuni Saltlake some miles east of Springerville,Arizona. Hanowatewa further suggestedthat Pedro might have been one of thesoldiers guarding the cattle of the Fran-ciscans who had established three mis-

sions among the Hop i in 1629. Thisseems reasonable, for the region immed-

Precarious spots are no stalemate to Inscription Hunters. The notched log ladderwas used some 700 hundred years ago by the cliff divellers of northern Arizona.Soon after Pedro de Montoya visited the Hopi country, the mud and stones werelaid to build this oldest house in Shungopovi. Photo by Milton Snow.

iately north of Siovahu was called by theSpanish, La Mesa de las Vacas, or theMesa of the Cattle.To date, I have combed every Spanishand New Mexican reference available.Montoya was, and still is, an importantname in New Mexico, but none seem tohave borne the given name of Pedro.Leading Hispano-American historianshave been queried. They know nothingof the man. The only lead so far uncov-

ered is tha t of Evon Z . Vogt,. editor ofthe Gallup Gazette and the first custodi-

an of the El Morro national monumenc.He remembers seeing the name some-where on the famed Inscription Rock,but the present custodian has advised methat he cannot find it.Let us sincerely hope that some scholarworking in the musty Spanish archiveswill discover the identity of the mysteri-ous Don Pedro de Montoya. Until thattime, we will have to wonder who hewas, and what was his role in the dra-

matic Spanish era of northern Arizona.Quien sabe!J A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1 11


12/48

Every desert visitor knows about Catsclaw. Itgrows in the arroyos and on the hillsides justwaiting to hook its barbed claws into those whoapproach too close. But despite its snarly disposi-tion, it really is a very useful plant, and a memberoi a highly respected family in the botanical world.Here's an opportunity for you to become better ac-quainted with Catsclawwithout getting too closeto it.

By MARY BEAL

/IKE many other natives of the desert, Catsclaw isharmless enough if you stay away from it. But it does-n't fancy being fondled. It is armed with the barbedclaws of a wildcatand you'll feel 'em if you get too close.The early settlers called it Devil's clawprompted no doubtby their experience in trying to gather it for firewood.In season it makes a good appearance, attired in a garmentof feathery light-green leaves, a vivid splash of color against

the duller low shrubs about it. Later this bright-green is al-most concealed by a fluffy mantle of creamy-yellow catkins.All prinked up in blossoms it looks as innocent and friendlyas any pet house-cat.But don't be misled. Its gentleness is only skin-deep. Be-neath the leaf and flower clusters are cruel thorns, short butstout, sharp as the wildcat's claws and as ready to scratch. Itstretches out to clutch the unwary passerby with an entang-ling grip not easily loosened. While freeing one's self fromone set of claws another set nabs some other spot.But like many cantankerous humans Catsclaw has strengthof character and useful attributes. So let's give it credit forits good qualities. The heavy, close-grained, reddish-brownwood is very hard and its durability made it valuable to abo-rigines and pioneers for many years.As fuel it gave superlative heat; trunks and limbs of thesizable individuals made stout posts, rails and household ar-ticles. Its shiny deep-brown circular seeds were used for food,ground into meal similar to mesquite meal though less palat-able. A gum exuding from bark injuries, resembling gumarabic, (which comes from North African species of Acacia)made valued medicinal infusions, glue and varnish. In bloomeach bush or tree becomes a favored bee-garden, producing nclear finely-flavored honey. F or all these benefactions we areindebted, to say nothing of the birds and small animals thatfind shelter among and beneath its branches.Cousin to the Mesquite, it is often mistaken for an im-provident member of that genus of the Pea Family, but itsbranch is Acacia, a genus of large shrubs and trees withhundreds of species, over 300 of them in Australia, severalof which have been introduced into the Southwest for ever-green ornamentals. Our few native species are deciduous, theCatsclaw by far the commonest.Acacia greggiiTh e Una de Gato (Claw-of-the-Cat) of Mexico and ourearly Southwest honors in its specific name Josiah Gregg,widely-traveled frontiersman of the Southwest when it wasMexican territory. It is scattered over plains, rocky slopesand washes of the Colorado and Mojave deserts, Arizona,New Mexico and western Texas, from very low altitudes to6000 feet, ranging south into Mexico. Usually in shrub form5 to 10 feet high with short thick reclining trunks and widelyspreading branches, though I have seen many well-shapedtrees up to 20 feet tall. The young branchlets are purplish orreddish-brown, aging grey. The pinnate leaves, only an inchor two long, have a few pairs of tiny leaflets inclined to foldinward. The minute flowers are crowded in dense spikes an

Seed-pots of the CatsclawAcacia greggiiinch or two long, very fluffy with tufts of protruding stamens.These fuzzy pale-yellow catkins develop into flat reddish seedpods, 1 to 6 inches long, curved or bent and much constrictedbetween the seeds. Acacia ]arnesiana

A Mexican species spreading into Texas and reportedfarther west. A much-branched shrub or small tree, moreor less thorny, the deep-yellow flower clusters globular andvery fragrant, the pods almost cylindrical. Known variouslyas Popinac, Opoponax, Cassie, and Huisache, it has beennaturalized in most tropical countries. In southern France itwas grown for perfumery and in Hawaii it escaped fromcultivation to become almost a pest.Acacia jilicina (jiliculoides)Another Mexican and Texas species, known as Timbe. Anunarmed shrub with orange or yellow globular flowe r-headsin terminal panicles, the flat pods broadly linear, slightlycurved or straight, irregular and not pulpy.Another Texas species, extending westward into southernArizona is Acacia constricta, distinguished by white flowe rs.Acacia ivillardianaThe Palo Lisso of Mexico ranges along the boundary intosouthern Arizona, particularly about Nogales. A very beauti-ful tree with a slender trunk and branches spreading grace-fully. Its snow-white bark peels off in tissue-thin portions.Quite curious are the leaves, mostly a flat green axis withonly a few tiny leaflets near the apex.

P r i z e s to A m a t e u r P h o t o g r a p h e rsEvery month the Desert Magazine offers two cash prizesof $5.00 and $3.00 for the best amateur desert photographssubmitted. Pictures are limited to the desert, but there

is no restriction as to the residence of the photographer.There are a wide rang e of subjects rock formations,flowers, desert animals and reptiles, canyons, trees, dunes,prospectors, Indiansin fact anything that belongs to thedesert.RULESNot more than four prints may be submitted byone person each month. Prints must be 3V2x5y2 or larger,glossy. Winners are required to iurnish glossy enlarge-ments or negatives, if requested. Details as to camera, film,time, exposure, filter, etc., must accompany each entry.Pictures submitted in the January contest must reach theMa gazine office by Janu ary 20. Winners will be anno unce dand the prize pictures published in the March number.For non-prize-winning pictures accepted for publication$1.00 will be paid for each print. Non-winning pictures willbe returned only when stamped envelopes or photo-mailersare enclosed.

ADDRESS CONTEST EDITORDESERT MAGAZINE EL CENTRO, CALIFORNIA



13/48

John Hilton and Ha rloiv Jones (right) at one of the Clara Mae claims. Canigan 's peak in the background.

>v2ecimen5an old Aline

torn

By JOHN W. HILTONPhotographs by Har low JonesiJ 11 / ELL, there's a lot of prettyVV green rocks up there on theold dumps, and the specimencollectors are welcome to take a fewhome if they want them."The speaker was S. J. Curtis, owner ofthe general store at Bouse, Arizona.Harlow Jones and I were out on ascouting trip for the Desert Magazine,and we had stopped at Bouse to inquireabout the old copper camp at Swansea,20 miles to the north.Every old-time mining man in theSouthwest knows about Swansea. Highgrade copper ore was found there, andin 1908 a mill was erected and a branchrailroad built to connect with the SantaFe at Bouse. Many difficulties were en-countered, however, and after a brief

run the mine was shut down. Later thetracks were torn up, and until recently

Swansea has remained virtually a ghostmining camp.The mines and dumps of course areprivate property, and I did not want tosuggest this camp as a possible field tripfor Desert Magazine mineral collectorswithout first getting permission fromthose who owned the claims.We found Mr. Curtis in his storeweighing up 10 pounds of beans for acustomer. When I told him what I hadin mind and asked him where I couldfind the man who owned the property,he answered, "Well, I guess I am ac-quainted with the parties you want tosee, since I own some of the propertymyself. My partner is C. C. Points andI don't see any reason why your rock-hound friends couldn't pick some sam-ples off the dumps. Our mine is the ClaraMae, and was once a part of the great

For this month's field trip, JohnHilton visited the old copperc a m p at Swansea, Arizona, andobtained permission from theowners of some of the claims togather specimens from thedumps. The same privilege isextended to Desert Magazinereaders who would like to visitthis historic mining regionandthe ghost town that may comeback to life again.

body of copper-bearing lands owned bythe Clara Swansea Mining company."We assured Mr. Curtis that we wouldimpress upon the magazine readers thatthe mines are private property, and whilethey are welcome to a reasonable numberof samples, the abuse of this privilege orany tampering with the tools, machineryand other equipment not only would bea violation of Arizona law, but would becontrary to the code of the rockhoundfraternity. I am sure that collectors whotake this trip will do nothing to discountMr. Curtis' faith in the integrity of Des-ert Magazine readers. It is an interestingjourney to the Clara Mae, and some veryattractive specimens are to be foundthere.

While we were in the store several ofthe other residents of Bouse came in andevery one got acquainted in the free and

J A N U A R Y , 1 94 1 13


14/48

C L A R R M S 1 E

&


15/48

Ernest C. Lane Jr. at the old Sivansea copper camp ivhichErnest and his father expect to have in operation againin the next jew months.S. J. Curtis and his daughter o\ Bouse, Arizona. He op-erates the general store at Bouse, and with C. C. Pointsowns the o ld Clara Mae diggings in the Swansea field.

nearby for collecting. They'll find betterspecimens elsewhere anyway.The other road leads directly past thecabin and up another steep hill to work-ings on the summit. Here we found ourbest specimens. There were many formsof copper. The chrysocolla was in smallseams and masses, but too soft to polish.The malachite appeared as crusts andthin seams of tiny velvety crystals. Thebrochantite proved to be the surprise ofthe trip, with coatings of tiny transparentemerald green crystals. A few pieces ofore showed traces of azurite, but in suchsmall quantities I would hardly list it asa specimen to be found here.Other minerals we encountered in-cluded chalcocite (copper glance or greycopper), chalcopyrite (pyrites of copper),bornite (peacock copper) and specularhematite, an ore of iron that in someplaces constitutes over half the rock.Few places afford so many different

copper ores in so small an area, and it isprobable that a microscopic study would

disclose the presence of several mineralsI have not listed.It was w ith reluctance that we finallyleft this fine collecting ground, for itseemed that every step revealed a differ-ent and interesting specimen to be exam-ined.We wanted to see the old mill and

smelter at Swansea, and so we returnedalong the road toward Bouse. Presentlywe could see the roadbed of the old minerailroad aheadthe rails have all beenremoved. A road swung off to the rightfollowing the direction of the railroad.It was not as well improved as theroad we have been on. The ruts weredeeper and the rocks sharper. We hadtraveled but a short distance when werealized why one of our informants atBouse had remarked, "Yes, you can goto Swansea if you try hard enough."We followed a canyon. The railroad

had been built well up out of the wash,but the road was in the sandy streambed.

It is not a road I would recommend forthe average motorist.Finally we rounded a point and sawthe giant red-painted gallows over themine, and the huge mill above it.From a distance Swansea had the ap-pearance of being a prosperous operatingmining camp. The first building on theleft was an adobe structure that had beenthe railroad station. Behind it was thewreckage of an old passenger coach andthe cab of a locomotive that had beenrobbed for scrap iron. An interesting ob-ject was a gasoline-driven car with acanopy top that looked for all the worldlike an old surrey on railroad wheels.What a picture it must have made, chug-ging along through the cactus-studdedhills, loaded down with passengers boundfor the bright lights and excitement ofBouse.Crossing the wash we drove up a streetlined with rather well-preserved cottages,

and stopped in front of the largest one.Here we met the Lanes, who are mak-J A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1 15


16/48

George Y. Lee posed for a picture besidethrough the sand in the days beforeing another attempt to bring Swanseaback to life. They have leased the pro-perty and in a few weeks expect to beginwork in one of the shafts and start orerolling again to the mill. The machinery,about a million dollar's worth, appearsto be in good condition and needs onlymen like Ernest C. Lane and Ernest Jr.with the vision and ambition to start thewheels turning again.Ernest Jr. showed us through the prin-cipal buildings and told us a great dealabout the history of the camp. The orig-inal operating company was organizedabout 1908 when several million sharesof stock were sold, mostly in France andBelgium. Previous to that some ore hadbeen shipped down the Colorado riverto the gulf where it was reloaded andhauled around Cape Horn to Swansea,Wales. This of course was not an eco-nomical operation, so a smelter was built.This was not altogether satisfactory be-cause the fluxes necessary to smelt thistype of ore were too far away.

Then came the mill. Weighing about3,000 tons and capable of reducing 700tons of ore every 24 hours, it seemed toprovide a profitable method of handlingthe copper ore. Swansea stock skyrock-eted from 75 cents a share to a reportedhigh of $22.50. George Mitchell andsome of the investors put their profitsinto the building of the Arizona Swansearailroad, completed some months afterthe mill was in operating. Then unex-pected difficulties developed. W ith thecopper market low, it was found impossi-ble to compete with other producers.This and other factors, involving themanagement in considerable criticism,made it necessary to shut down.

The ore at Swansea does not offer thevariety and beauty of the material foundon the dumps at the Clara Mae, as mostof the surface minerals such as silicates

the old tractor ivagon which he herdedthe railroad was built to Swansea.and carbonates of copper have long agotraveled their course through mill andsmelter and found their places in usefulcopper objects. Most of the Swansea ore

is the sulphide type, mixed with speculariron. The latter has to be separated fromthe copper, and one of the tailings pondsbelow the mill is estimated to contain70,000 tons of iron ore in this form. Itis already mined and cleanedbut worth-less until the day when electric smeltingor some other miracle of science will con-vert it into useful metal.The adobe station at Swansea slumbersin the silent Arizona sun, and the rustedtracks that once carried excitement andromance to its doors have been torn upand made into Japanese cannon. But theSwansea mines are not dead. Some min-ing men say the time is not far distantwhen modern trucks will pull up thegrade out of Swansea with copper con-centrates, and the mines will again pourforth riches. The desert is kind to thosewho come with understanding and faithand courage in their hearts.In the meantime it is an interestingplace to visit, and the dumps at the ClaraMae, through the generosity of its own-ers, are available as a source of some ofthe most interesting copper specimens Ihave ever found.

Hard Rock Shortyof Death Valley ."Me an' Pisgah Bill," announcedHard Rock Shorty, "has a inventionwe're figgerin' on turnin' over tothe Army."He paused to let the full impacthit his listeners while he cockedhis hat importantly over one eyeand propped his feet on the porchrail."Yes sirwe really has some-thin', an' there ain't nothin' elselike it in the world. It's a gun that

shocts around corners. We workedit out ourselves one time when wewas out coyote huntin'."Yuh know, Bill has a shackdown around Sugar Loaf Rock,an' one time we was out there whenwe seen a coyote come runnin' by.Bill an' I shot but by the time wegot aimed, the varmint was onaround the corner o' the rock. Nextday at the same place we seen thesame coyote an' the same thinghappened. So we started watchin'for 'im. Ever' day we'd see thiscoyote, an' ever' day he'd getaround the corner afore we c'dshoot.

By LON GARRISON"So Bill an' me went back tohis shack an' got to rummagin'around in 'is blacksmith shop. Weheated up the barrel o' his gunset 'er up in the vise an' bent 'er alittlenot too muchjust aboutthe arc o' the rock. Then next daywe went back lookin' for Mr. Coy-ote. Well sirhere he comelaughin' at us, an' just as Bill wasready to shoot he ducked on aroundthe corner o' Sugar Loaf. But Billlet drive with that crooked rifleanyhow, an' in a couple minuteshere come Mr. Coyote hipperin'right on around the rock. He wasin high gear with the boilers fullo' steam, an' the bullet was rightafter 'im. It was a little behind butgoin' strong. Mr. Coyote humpedright on around the rock an' nexttime he come around the bullet wasgainin' a bit. Third time around hewas mighty tuckered an' the bulletgot 'im easy."Yup we guess it might besome use to the government -stand in front of a fort an' shootin the back door."



17/48

at work on one oj thecanvaseshim recognition as anoutstand-ing painter oj the desert landscape.

Many of the exhibits in Los Angelesmuseum at Exposition park are madedoubly interesting and informative bythe beautiful dioramas which accomp-any them. The man who creates theseart sketches is Perry McNeeley. His skillin museum painting is widely recog-nized, but not everyone knows that heis also a desert landscape artist of out-standing ability. Here is a brief story ofthe man and his work.

fltttet W ho Uieitui h

By JOHN W. HILTON/ / T was a warm spring afternoon on the Coachella desertV / of California and the long purple shadows were creep-ing slowly across the valley floor. Three easels wereset up on a sand dune and three brushes were being wieldedfrantically in an effort to catch the rapidly changing colorsof the desert hills."How can you finish such a large sketch in the open atone sitting?" I asked Perry McNeeley. "Oh that's easy," an-swered he without looking up from his work. "I just usebigger brushes and make the same number of strokes youfellows do."Leo Cotton and I were working on small canvases and hop-ing to get them done before the light changed too much.Perry McNeeley, unflustered, was completing a sketch thatwas as large as our finished studio pictures would be. It wasin 1932, and I was just learning to paint. Perry was one ofthe first artists I had seen at work. It was a great experienceto watch the swift sure strokes of his brush as he made thehills in his sketch come to life.We renewed our acquaintance recently at the Los Angelesmuseum where we both had paintings on display in theSanity In Art show. He invited me to his home and wespent the afternoon in his studio. We looked at the countlesssketches he has stored away and talked of the great broaddesert lands that we both love.He still had the sketch I saw him make that afternoon in1932. He seldom sells or disposes of his field paintings, keep-ing them for reference in making large studio canvases. Isuspect also, that they have a sentimental value for himthey recall themany pleasant treks he has made into the desert

region.His group of field sketches is a gallery that discloses the

tremendous progress he has made over a period of years,both in the mechanics of his art and in his study and under-standing of the desert where a great part of his work hasbeen done.Perry McNeeley was born in Lebo, Kansas in 1886. Hereceived his early schooling in St. Louis. His early art train-ing came mainly from his elder brother, Elmer ElsworthMcNeeley, who, under the name of Elmer Elsworth achievedhigh standing as a painter of animals and birds.Commercial art seemed to offer the best opportunity for alivelihood, and it was this work that brought him to LosAngeles in 1920 where he took a position with Los Angelesmuseum.A sketching trip to the desert on a museum assignment pro-vided his introduction to the land of dune and cacti. He re-turned to the desert at every opportunity for sketches thatlater in his studio became landscapes recognized for theirmerit by artists and critics throughout the West.He is still identified with the museum as superintendent ofinstallation at Exposition park in Los Angeles. His freetime, however, is spent in some part of the desert region.When time is available he goes into the Indian country ofnorthern Arizona. Weekend trips are made to Coachella val-ley and the Lone Pine area. He finds subjects everywhere.His problem, he explains, is not what to paint, but what toeliminate.His work has brought him recognition in many directions

but his dioramas are among the outstanding examples ofmuseum art in the United States. His painting, "SculpturedCliffs, Acoma, New Mexico," was one of the most strikingcanvases in the Sanity In Art show this year, and was awardedsecond prize.McNeeley likes his museum work. He has trained himselfto understand every branch of natural history collecting. Hoprepares and installs all types of specimens and has developedsome original techniques which have become standard prac-tice among museum men.But he also has a great desire to live closer to the land ofspace and freedom. The desert has a Tascination for him thatmakes even the four walls of his cherished museum seem con-fining at times.Since he cannot spend as much time on the desert as hewould likehe uses bigger brushes and thus is able to takemore of it back to the studio with him.

J A N U A R Y , 1941 17


18/48

M E X I C A n H A T Winner of the November Landmark contestconducted by the Desert M agazine is G. B.Miller of Gila Bend, Arizona. Mr. Miller was inthe Mexican Hat area as an oil prospector 30 years ago, and has given avery interesting story of the naming of the Hat. His prize winning entry ispublished on this page.

By G. B. MILLER

/ I N the southeastern corner of Utah( y on the north bank of the San Juan"^ river, 27 miles southwest of Bluff,stands this freak rock formation, knownas Mexican Hat.The entire butte is of soft sandstoneand shale formation, carved by erosion.It is perhaps 200 feet high, about 60 to65 feet in diameter, nicely balanced on apedestal scarcely 12 feet in thicknessat the narrowest point.For many years this landmark wasknown as Sombrero rock. It is located ina basin, almost entirely surrounded bycliffs.About 35 years ago considerable pro-specting was done for oil in this vicinity.Dell Rapley, a Utah and Colorado miningman, located several claims and built asandstone house almost in the shadow ofthis butte. Other oil prospectors had tentcamps nearby.One evening some of the tent occu-pants, including Butch Gilchrist, Millerand Simpson, Harry Ranney and others,were lounging in front of one of thetent houses. Ranney and Miller had their30-30 rifles, intending to do some targetpractice. Doc Simpson suggested they

shoot at the pedestal supporting the Som-brero and cut it down.After they had fired a few shots, Mrs.Rapley came to her door, saw what they

were shooting at, and that each shot wasfinding its mark and cutting off a chip ofthe slender pedestal. She returned to herhouse, picked up Dell's shotgun andcame over to the tent. "If you fellowsshoot my Mexican hat down, I'll shootyou," she declared.She looked as if she really meant it,and the firing ceased. The story went the

rounds among the prospectors, and thename "Mexican Hat" clung to the rock.A few months later Hyde and Adamswho conducted the trading post at thecamp, petitioned for a U.S. postoffkewith the name of Mexican Hat. The re-quest was granted.Oil was found here but not in payingquantities, and after about two years thecamp dwindled and ihe po.ctomce wasabolished. The name still remains andnow applies to the trading post and lodge-operated by Norman Nevills and hismother about a mile from the Hat.This is one of the most remote areasin the United States. Nearest railroadpoint is Thompson, Utah, on the Denver& Rio Grande 156 miles to the north. Onthe south the Santa Fe railroad is 193miles away at Flagstaff. The nearest pavedhighways are No. 160 at Monticello,Utah, 67 miles northeast and No. 89 atCameron, Arizona, 121 miles southwest.Enclosed is a picture of Mr. and Mrs.Rapley and their stone house, showing acorner of the butte in the backgroundtaken about the time Mrs. Rapley namedthis landmark with her shotgun. I havenot been in that section for about 30years but I understand there is now asuspension bridge across the San Juanriver just below Mexican Hat, at Good-rich.

Mr. an d Mrs. Dell Rapley and their rock house, taken about the time oj the shot-gun episode related in the accomp anying story.18 T h e D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


19/48

In the remote desert home of Tanya and Mar-shal South, Christmas is no less a festive occasionthan in Beverly Hills or Park avenue. Some of theartif icial t insel is lacking perhapsbut sparklingfoils and colorful streamers do not make Christ-m a s . T h e d ese r t l an d scap e p r o v id e s ad eq u a te d ec -orative materialof things that are genuine. Inthis story, the last of the Yaquitepec diar ies whichstar ted in the Desert Magazine last January, Mar-shal gives a glimpse of the true meaning of Christ-ma s as i t i s unders tood on Ghost m ounta in .DESERT DIARY

By MARSHAL SOUTHat yaECEMBER! and another desert year winging to itsclose. All too swift they flit, these desert years of soli-tude and silence and peace. One could wish that theywere twice as long. The span of them is not great enough toaccommodate all the joy and eagerness of life. Happy yearsclose packed with a simple happiness that is free to all for thetaking. Yet a mad world sets its hands only to robbery andslaughter.Far down in the dim lowlands the sun rose this morningfrom a spreading pool of molten gold. It was as though thethin line of a vast flood of melted metal lay upon the farhorizon. On the blue line of the distant desert it spread tonorth and south, glinting and flashing, a torrent levellingfrom some overturned crucible. And in the very midst of thewide thin spreading flood the sun rose, an upwelling bubbleof dazzling fire. The desert foreground lay dusky velvet be-fore its blinding rays, and in the shadowy robes that wrap thedim mountain bulk which we call the Sleeping Squaw, darting sunbeams woke a strange illusion of movement as thoughthe Sleeper stirred in her aeon-long slumber and opened hereyes to the miracle of dawn.Today I took the sand screen down to a point beyond thetiny rock hollow which we call Lake Yaquitepec and beganto sift sand for the final coating of a new cistern. Rider andRudyard came too, and while I worked, shovelling the roughsandy earth from the little watercourse and throwing it uponthe inclined screen, they fished in the tiny rock pool. It wasstill brimming from a recent shower and into its mirror sur-face they toss handfuls of the short-broken lengths of gold-en yellow bunch grass stems. These were the "fish" andthey are "caught" upon the ends of slender sticks of juniper,to which they adhere. A serious and intent business. Butpunctuated with much merry laughter. Good music by whichto work.A desert solitude? What are wealth and possessions? What

can they buy to compare with such priceless things of simplehappiness?Today's coat of cement plaster marks the finishing touchto this last cistern. Mostly trowel and brush work, for theuneven portions have to be trowel-smoothedand much ofthe cement is laid on with a brush. It gives a better surfaceand it is easier to reach the hollows in our rough rock con-struction.In our early days at Yaquitepecwhen we had no trowel,or money with which to purchase oneour cement work-was done with a tool fashioned from an old automobile lic-ense plate. And we did a lot of good work with it too. Goodtools make for good and easy work. But there are manytimes when one need not neglect work just for the lack ofthem.Fires roar merrily in the big stove these nights for there isa crisp snap creeping into the air. And it is a crispness that

J A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1

This is Victoria neivest memb er of the Sou th jamily atYaquitepec. Others are the mother, Tanya South, Riderand Rudyard.is enjoyable. After all, Winter when it comes brings its ownspecial gifts. And not the least of those gifts are fireglow andstory-telling. There is a new iron top to the stove this yearas well as a new and much appreciated damper that workswith a lever. The old one was a tin slide, of sour dispositionat times, a sore trial to cheerful temper. But it served longand faithfully and we forgive it its faults in remembering itsvirtues. There is a new adobe arch too, that closes in thenorth end of the kitchen. It will be warmer and cosier herethis yeareven though Santa Claus will maybe have to pausea moment and figure out the changed arrangement before hecomes stealing in with his pack. "You ought to put up a signto make it easy for him," is Rider's practical suggestion. ButRudyard, guided less by logic than by anxiety, is chiefly con-cerned about the time-honored chimney route. "Daddy, It'ink you ought to wemove that new damper! I t'ink SandaKlaws catch his neck on it an' choke to deaff! Yes, I t'inkso!"There is fuel to collect against the possibility of savagesnowstorms, there are Christmas trees to select and cut andcarry homediminutive, cheerful little trees that are in realitybig, berry-laden branches of mountain juniper. There aresandals to repair and wreaths to makeevergreen wreaths totrim the windows with. And there is an extra supply of flourto be ground and tall candles to make so that Christmas evemay be ushered in with no stint of cookies and candlelight.And to top it all there is Victoria! Victoria grows andgrows. Her eyes are blue. The little desert mice squeak andscurry in the night hushand she listens to them wide-eyedand speculative. For this is her desert too, and her land towhich she has come. The boys perch about her bed and watchher with worshipful eyes. "An' we'll hang a stocking up forlittle sister too, won't we, Daddy," Rider says proudly. "Yes,old-timer, we sure will," I tell him. And Tanya smiles. Twolittle sons and a daughter! The Great Spirit has indeed shedhis blessings upon Yaquitepec.It is night now and the house is hushed, save for the softrustlings of the friendly mice. There are dying coals glowingin the fireplace, and beyond the shaded glow of the lampthe shadows are soft upon three little heads, sleep-wrapped,upon their pillows. On the other side of the table, wherethe yellow lamplight falls in a pool, Tanya sits sewing. Asshe pauses a moment to thread a needle she looks up. "Listento the wind whispering up the mountain," she says. "Do youremember . . . . "Yes, we remember. And for a space, while the old, oldwind whimpers about the outer walls and talks to itselfthrough the junipers we go back into memories. Memories

19


20/48

of dear, happy days that have fled. There is much to remem-ber. And more to be humbly thankful for. Above the desertthe stars gleam. The footsteps of the Great Spirit are in therustlings of the wind and the promise of His infinite mercy iswritten in the glow of circling worlds and in the testimonyof the granite rocks. Peace! Faith! Assurance! These are themessages of the silence and the solitude.And so we come to the ending of the year and to the end-ing of the year's Diary of Yaquitepec. It has been a yearof friends and of good wishes. And if, to the ending of thechronicle, we were to attach any special thought or messageit would be the message of Faith. In a world that is grim andshadowed by the blackness of war and of greed and of brutali-ty let the lamp of Faith be kept burning brightly. Faith inthings that are good; Faith in those simple, fundamentalthings that have been so much neglected. There are not manythings in life that really matter. And he who would seekpeace and contentment of body and spirit must seek it amongthe simple, fundamental, "old-fashioned," things which theblind, roaring rush of a greed-crazed age has so largely thrustaside.Wealth, possessions and mechanical gadgets do not makethe mannor the nation. These are just the gilded bubblesflying in the wind, the chasing of which leads too often intothe morass of destruction. Neither is greatness to be measuredby weapons of war and conquest nor by marvels of science.These things go down into the dust and are the sport of thewinds in all the deserts of the earth. For there have been"others"others in the past who have built upon these sameperilous foundations. Assyria and Egypt and Rome . . . and,further in the shadows, Atlantis and the ghost-memory Mu.Nor were these the first. Nor will they be the last.

"For heathen faith that puts its trust,In speaking tube and iron shard.All valiant dust that builds on dustAnd guarding calls not Thee to guard . . . "

AUTHENTIC Indian Art. . .VISITORS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMEGIFTS CAREFULLY PACKED FORSHIPMENT

=GIFTS OF THE DESERTNAV AJO RUGS INDIAN JEWELRY ALSO

Distinctive Gifts for Discerning People. Thousandsof Unusual I tems.I N D I A N O Y AN D I A N T R A D I N G P O S TIN THE HEART OF P AL M SPRINGS

These be the breed of the World Conquerorsand of themso grimly wrote Kipling. These are they who build on Steeland Progress. Things that crumble into rust and perish intheir own madness.But there are other things that do not change; things thatendure and spring in eternal rebirth to uphold every ageand every race, be it "Savage" or "Civilized." Simple, thesethingsand fundamental. A simple faith in the all-guidingbeneficence of The Great Spirit is the chiefest of them. Andnext to that a simple life lived in close contact with the earth.From these things alone spring nearly all of the worthwhilejoys of life; peace, contentment, and the glad laughter oflittle children. For him who sets up for himself other idealsthese words are not written.

And so, in farewell from the Diary of Yaquitepec, wewould say to those who are weary of turmoil and of sham:Return to the earth. Return to planting and reaping and theraising by personal effort of those things for which life calls.Return to the peace of the soil, which is not to be found incities. And return to Faith. It matters not what the label ofthe Faith, so long as it is sincere Faith. For Faith is the chief-est of the fundamental things. And it is the chief thing thatour Age lacks. For a long time our "clever" people have en-joyed themselves poking fun at the "God myth" . . . And theyhave made their doctrines a sorry mess of our times.So hold fast to Faithto an implicit faith in the mightyshadowy Power that not only tints the wing of the butterflybut also steers the hurtling suns upon their pathways. Forhim who holds thus fast to Faith there are no doubts norterrors.

And in this thought, from a mountain in the desert, we bidyou farewell: May the peace of the Great Spirit be with youalways:MARSHAL, TANYA, RIDER, RUDYARD and VICTORIA

BLYTHE--where real desertfolks spend the Winter GATEWAY to many of thewonders of the desert Blythehas much to offer the visitor orto the real "desert rat."THERE IS plenty of recreationand diversion. The valley of theColorado river is a hunter's para-dise and nearby lakes and la-goon s abo und with fish. Ghosttowns and old mining camps, In-dian relics and ceremonial picto-graphs are not far away.KNOWN favorably for its clim-ate as well as its scenic advant-ages, Blythe is located in PaloVerde Valley, a vast area ofnatural beauty.EVERY comfort and conven-ience is available at most rea-sonab le cost. Many courts arebuilt around patios and gardenswhere visitors spend many pleas-ant hours out of doors.PLAN to visit Blythe eitheron your next trip, or NOW!B L V T H E

quantities). C A L I F O R N I AY O U R G A T E W A Y T O S E E I N G A R IZ O N A 'SA N D C A L I F O R N I A ' S W O N D E R L A N D SFor further information, specific data write to the Secre-tary, Palo Verde, Chamber of Commerce, Blythe, California

Here are a fewpoints of interest ashort ride away . . . CORN SPRINGSOASISO LOST PALMCANYON EHRENBERGRUINS CHALCEDONYROSES, the "des-ert roses of rock" BLACK POINTGEM FIELDS(Here jasper, ag-ate and black on-ynx are to befound in unlimited

20 T h e DESERT MAGAZINE


21/48

Mofave,B Y H E L E N Y O U N GDelavan Lake, Wisconsin

You Desert, you are a wildernessA strange, forgotten land,Where t ime, unremembered, i s broodingIn a lonely waste of sand.The perfumed sage, and blue lupine,The Joshua trees and meBelong to you, barren Desert,As grey gulls belong to the sea.You Desert, wrap me in shadows,When the day is done,And hold me close through the purple nightAt dawn give me back to the sun.

JOSHUA TREEB Y J O H N T W E E D D A L ETorrance, California

In a green oasis I pitched my tent.For the light or day was nearly spentAnd the golden glow of the Sun's farewellHad camouflaged each hill and dell .Then I looked far out on the desert sands,Where a Joshua, grim and silent stands,And saw in fancy its gnarled arms,Raised high above the waving palms,Raised high, in mute and humble prayerTo Him who knows our every care,Then soft winds blew from the fountain head.And the Joshua slept in its lowly bed.For even the prayer of a Joshua treeIs heard at the throne that will ever be,Soon silvery Stardust filled the nightAnd phantom dreamships took their flight.From earthly fields to the realms of dayTo set them down on the milky way.Where angels watch o'er desert and glenAs they sing the chords of the Great A'men.

THE DESERTB Y L A U R A B U L M E RReno, Nevada

The desert seems a friend to me,I love its far grey solitudes,And rest and peace are waiting thereFor one who loves its changing moods.Here is a width of earth and sky,A place to stretch one's soul and growTo touch the earth and reach the starsAnd breathe the sweet strong winds that blow.The desert has so much to teach,"Be patient" its far valleys say,Beneath the Father's shaping handA thousand years are but a day.

LONGINGB Y E L S IE F R E N C H - W O L C O T TSioux City, Iowa

I am lonely for the desert,For the cacti and the sand.I should like to hold an uglyBlinking horned toad in my hand.I long to see the moon rise,Like a hanging, golden plateOver mountains, black and silent,Where the slinking bob-cats wait.Desert lands have charm and beautyNever found in fat, plowed loam.Sand may blowbut yucca's bloomingArizona calls me home.

a w l Bldbliz '"'' 5

H i ' ' k^y^"

: to* -df l

mj k 1 '' ' ' ~ ^ ^ l

^ lip

TO A MUDSWALLOW ATPARKER DAMB Y C H A R L E S F. T H O M A S , J R .Parker Dam, CaliforniaWhence thy engineering skillWinged artisan in clay?Does your task no fear instillAs you toil throughout the day?Humans with designing artCalculate each stress and strain.Such strange planning has no partIn the style you must attain.

Anchored beam nor strut nor braceBinds your cottage to the wall.Could you find no safer placeFor your stuccoed hom e so small ?Fence nor railing 'round you weave,River wild your own front yard.When the nest your fledglings leaveNo green branches are their guard.Do you have a bungalowBuilded thus in warmer clime,Where you wing when chill winds blowTo await the glad springtime?

CREED OF THE DESERTB Y J U N E L E M E R T P A X T O NYucca Valley, California

Now o'er this heap of malapaiThe centuries have rolled;But some day man may learn to readThe tale the ages scrolled.

THE LUREB Y M I L D R E D H O L L I N G S W O R T HChico, CaliforniaThe west has cast her spell on me,She wields a magic art ,The west winds croon a melody,While slyly they steal my heart.I gaily travel her sandy path,I dance on her desert sea,And laugh at her thunder and stormy wrath,For I know she is fooling me.She has snared me well with her magic spell,Adrift in a far off place.But I laugh and dance on for herein dwellsThe secret, just one dear face.

DESERT NOCTURNEB Y L Y N N H A M I L T O NBanning, CaliforniaNo music soothes my tired and restless heartAs does the silence of a desert night.The lyric silence heard when night winds startTo whisper through wild sage of fragrantwhi t e ;The rhythmic silence heard when stars swinglo wLike dancing fireflies in the quiet gloom . . .But only we who love the desert knowIts peaceful silence is God's music room;For only we can hear great concords rollAnd echo through deep space from star tostarClear wind-swept cadences heard by the soulNocturnes from Beyondwhere the Maestrosare . . .Oh, when the desert silence plays for me,My listening heart hears God's own symphony.J A N U A R Y , 1 9 4 1 21


22/48

Those whofollow the ancientIndian trails in thedesert South-west occasionally come uponstrange mounds of rocksquiteevidently placed there by thehands of some prehistoric raceof men. Generally these moundsappear in series, spaced a fewyards apart onalternate sides ofthe trail. Thearchaeologists ad-mit frankly they donot know theorigin of these trail shrinesbutthey have gained a little infor-mation which is summarizedbriefly in the accompanyingstory by Arthur W oodward.

(food JluclcSktine* ofi the 'PeiettR Navajo guide, Dogeye Begay,hummed a travel song throughhis teeth as he rode ahead of uson the trail to Lost Mesa in northernArizona. Then, as we approached a sum-mit, he suddenly swung from his horse,

plucked a fresh twig from a juniper treeand walked aside from the trail.There stood a small heap of looselypiled stones. TheNavajo stuck thegreenspray among the rocks, and then re-mounted androde on,singing as he rode.As we passed the strange rock pile Inoted there were many sprigs of driedjuniper in the crevices. Later I learnedthat this is only one of many trail-sideshrines in the Navajo country. W hitemen call them "good luck shrines." In asense they are just that.N ot all of these good luck stone piles

are in the Navajo country. TheHopi In-dians have them also. On a ridge alongthe old trail leading from the valley tothe Hopi village of Hano are four heapsof small boulders, intermingled withsmall sticks and fragments of wood.These are shrines dedicated to Masauu,one of the Hopi deities. Here, in the olddays, the wood gatherers, collecting fuelfor the New Fire ceremony, paused toplace offerings of sticks and stones inthe belief that Masauu would lightentheir burdens.On the Colorado desert in Californiaduring October-November 1932, Mal-colm J. Rogers of the San Diego muse-um found 19 separate piles of stones a-long an old trail leading from California22

By ARTHUR WOODWARDSketch by Norton Allento Arizona. It is believed byRogers thatthis was one of the main routes alongwhich flowed the aboriginal trade fromthe coast to the interior. Among thestones were found broken bits of potteryand shell, left as offerings of thanksgiv-ing by the dark skinned traders as theytraveled the narrow desert highway.Further south, in theSierra de las Tin-ajas of Lower California, Rogers found aseries of these boulder piles coveringsev-eral square miles of broken mesa land.There was no order to the alignment ofthese heaps butRogers believed they bearsome relation to the gigantic gravel fig-ures found on the banks of the Coloradoriver north of Blythe.I came upon a series of 15 of thesemounds on the Lower California desertnot far south of the border. They ap-peared at irregular intervals along an an-cient trail which skirted the eastern baseof the peninsular range. I went to thisregion with American botanists seekingthe northernmost habitat of the Bluepalm, Erytbea armata and wecame up-on the old Indian path unexpectedly. Itwas strewn with broken pottery.

In accordance with the tradition of thedesert Indians, each member of the partysolemnly deposited a rock on one of thepiles. It was ourprayer for waterwhichwe were needing very badly just then.The gods were kind to us. A mile furtheralong the trail wecame upon a beautifuloasis of Washington and Blue palmswith a tiny stream of clear cool watersinging under the granite boulders.

Nor are these rocky shrines unknownin other parts of Mexico. Among the shyHuichol Indians in the mountainous re-gion of north central Mexico, heaps ofsmall stones stand beside the trails andin thevillages. Many of these have beenheaped together by the priests and con-tain stones of different types. One,nearthe village of San Andres consists ofsmall nodules of milky white chalcedony.The Huichols believe that all of thestones in this pile are related andconsti-tute one big family. If properly propiti-ated these stones will attract rain cloudsto thevicinity.

Frederick Lumholtz who first reportedthese shrines, stated that some of theheaps were supposed to protect the fields,springs, domestic animals and householdgoods. One such heap of small smoothstones was dedicated to poultry and wasbelieved to cause the hens to lay moreeggs. Here, as in other places, offeringsmore valuable than twigs or sticks wereplaced upon the pile. Pottery images ofanimals, broken vessels andother objectswere left by theworshipers.

In southern Arizona, the Pima con-sider a certain heap of stones surroundingone huge boulder, neatly ringed withstones laid in a circle, a very potent shrineto this day. It stands in the saddle of theTwin buttes, on the north bank of theGila, about 10 miles south of Chandler.This Pima shrine has been used sincetime immemorial. It may have been asacred spot w

194101 Desert Magazine 1941 January

Documents

Transcript of 194101 Desert Magazine 1941 January