195305 Desert Magazine 1953 May

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N 6 W F R 6 6 56 P A G 1953 M I D Y 6 A R P R I C L I S TThis catalog is the sam e as our 1952 Fall Catalog. It is8V^"xll" in size and it is profusely illustrated. Yourshopping will be made easy order by mail or visitour shop to select your gifts. This catalog lists fiemCutting Equipment, Grinding Wheels, Diamond Blades,Sanding Cloth, and Polishing Powders, Jewelry MakingTools, Sterling Silver Sheet ami Wire, Blank KingMountings, Jewelry Findings such as Earwires,

Hails. Locket Loops, Chain by the foot, Bezel Wire, etc.Field Trip Hooks and Books of all kinds on Minerals,Gems, Jewelry Making, Prospecting, Uranium, etc.Fluorescent Lamps, Fluorescent Minerals, Geiger Count-ers, Uranium Samples, Magnifiers, Scales, Templates, etc.Services Offered to You Are: Expert (Jem Stone (hitting,Custom Jewelry Making and Repair.Dealers please ask for wholesale discount sheets

POLY ARBORS AT NEW LOW PRICESillustration at r ight shows1POLY D12 Arb or $19.95 1Dresser Rest2C ast Sp lash Shields 15.00 1Jig Block DIAMOND1100 Grit W he el 8"xiy2" ... 7.25 DRESSER1200 Grit Wheel WxlVi"..... 8.25 2G alvanized Splash Pan sTOTAL VALUE $69.10SPECIAL COMBINATION PRICE $62.00

2.2510.905.50

/ ings you maihan iho DiamondI original stone.

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Add $3.00 crating for out-of-town shipmentsNote: Trim saw has a vise (not illustrated) with lateraladjustment for slabbing.This unit and other HIGHLAND PARK EQUIPMENT isfully described in our 50 page free catalog.TIN OXIDE AGAINNOW ONLY $2.50 LB.

Cerium Oxide $3.00 lb.Chrom e Oxide $1.00 lb.Zircon ium Oxide $1.25 lb.ESTWING ALL STEELROCKHOUND PICKS

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JEWELRY FINDINGSSter. Silver Earwires $1.00 doz.Ster. Silver Spring Rings. . .$1.00 doz.Ster. Silver Bails or Loops.$1.00 doz.All plus 20% Fed. Tax

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D E S E R T C A L E N D A RMayContinuance, special exhibit ofpaintings of historical landmarksof California and portraits of pio-neer families, by Orpha Klinker.Southwest Museum, Highland Park,Los Angeles, California.May 1 Fiesta and Spring CornDance, San Felipe Indian Pueblo.

New Mexico.May 1-2Eastern New Mexico Uni-versity Rodeo, Portales, New Mex-ico.May 1-2 Masque of the YellowMoon. Montgomery Stadium, Phoe-nix, Arizona.May 1-3 Annual Spring Festival,Apple Valley, California.May 2-3Southern California Chap-ter, Sierra Club camping trip toIndian Cove in Joshua Tree Na-tional Monument, California.May 2-5Fiesta de Mayo, Nogales,

Arizona.May 3Corn Dance and ceremonialraces, Taos Pueblo, Taos, NewMexico.May 3Joshua Tree National TurtleRaces, Joshua Tree, California.May 4-7Las Damas Annual Ride,Wickenburg, Arizona.May 6 Public pilgrimage to oldSpanish homes, Mesilla, New Mex-ico.May 6-9 Junior Livestock Show,Spanish Fork, Utah.May 8-10 Lone Pine Stampede,Lone Pine, California.May 9-2427th Annual WildflowerShow, Julian, California.May 14-15 Diamond Jubilee pa-geant, Mesa, Arizona.May 14-17 El ks Helldorado, LasVegas, Nevada.May 15San Isidro Fiesta and Bles-sing of Fields, San Isidro Pueblo,New Mexico.May 15-16Stock Show, Richmond,Utah.May 16-17Spring Rodeo, Winne-

mucca, Nevada.May 17Quarter Horse Show, SantaCruz County Fair and Rodeo As-sociation, Sonoita, Arizona.May 26-27Junior Livestock Show,Vernal, Utah.May 30 Spanish Dance Festival,Encanto Shell, Phoenix, Arizona.May 30 Morongo Valley AnnualEarly California Fiesta, MorongoLodge, Morongo Valley, California.May 30-31 Desert Peaks Section,Southern California Chapter Sierra

Club ascent of Mt. Keynot, inCalifornia's Inyo Range.

V o l u m e 16 M A Y , 1953 N u m b e r 11C O V E R

CALENDARPOETRYADVENTUREINDUSTRYFIELD TRIPMYSTERYWILDF LO WERSC O N T E S TP H O T O G R A P H YLOST MINE

W A T E RPRIZESLETTERSMININGEXPERIENCEDESERT QUIZCLO SE-UP SN E W SLAPIDARYHOBBYC O M M E N TB O O K S

"Goodbye, Death Valley!" Sculptured byCYRIA ALLEN HENDERSON, Kodachrome photoby JOSEF MUENCH. (See page 19.)May events on the desert 3Brave Beauty, and other poems 4We Climbed Coxcomb Peak

By LOUISE WERNER 5Where Mormons Found a Mountain of Iron

By GrUSTIVE O. LARSON 11Harquahala Bonanza, by JAY ELLIS RANSOM . 15Discovery of Hermit Camp Fails to Solve Ruess

Mystery 19Forecast for May 20Prize announceme nt for writers 20Pictures of the Month 21Lost Mine of the Blond Mayo

By JOHN D. MITCHELL 22Run-off predictions for Colorado River Basin . 24Contest for photographers 24Comment from Desert's readers 25Current news of desert mines 26Life on Ihe Desert

By IMA M. WELLS 27A test of your desert knowledge 28About those who write for Desert 28From Here and There on the Desert 29Amateur Gem Cutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . 35Gems and Minerals 36Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 42Reviews of Southwestern literature 43The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., Palm Desert,California. Ke-entered as second class matter July 17, 1948, at the post office at Palm Desert,California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1953 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.

RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager MARGARET GERKE, Associate EditorMARTIN MORAN, Circulation ManagerUnsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be returned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility fordamage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Sub-scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.SUBSCRIPTION RATES

One Year $3.50 TwoYears $6.00Canadian Subscriptions 25c Extra, Foreign 50cExtraSubscriptions to Army Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP. O. D. Order No. 19687Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, CaliforniaM A Y , 1953


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Stave

FOUR GHOSTS OF GHOST TOWNBy AMY VIAUSanta Ana, CaliforniaFour ghosts of Ghost town walked onenightIn the desert moonlight cast so brightThat the walking ghosts could see eachotherSo stopped totalk asbrother tobrother."I" said one "was the town saloonWith many afight and rousing tune;An d tomy end gave roaring service

But business grew slack and my clientsnervous."They laughed then there was aghostly stopAt another's "Iwas the blacksmith shopWhere cowboys rode with mounts andwagons,And my furnaces blazed like fiery dragons"A third ghost spoke "It would appearYou poorer ghosts know not 1 fearThat I was the bank where the new-richenteredAnd wealth and interest in me centered."The fourth brought silence ashe stirredAnd carefully guarded every word."The folks were silent that came tomeAnd stayed, for Iwas the cemetery."It was asudden wind perhaps, and cloudThat made the darkness and groaning, loud.Then theghosts sank into thedesert sandsAnd Ghost town slept with empty hands.

Mojave Asters photo by DonOllisI RIDE THE STORM

By GRACE BARKER WILSONKirtland, New MexicoAcross the desert 1 would ride the stormOn wings of violence andshouting might.As madly whirling clouds of sand transformThe peace ofday into chaotic night.Yet when the high and dusty clouds arethinned,And gales no longer roar across the sand,1 still would ride and ride ther:, forthe windHaunts allthe secret places of the land.

By TANYA SOUTHThe music of the spheres ishere,The grandeur ofthe universe.My heart its inmost griefs canbare,And feel new strength upon itscourse.All highest heights arehere toclimb;All love, alldreams, thecherishedgoal.There isno bar tospace nor time,Nor Power supreme within mySoul!

By MADELEINE FOUCHAUXLos Angeles, CaliforniaThe sturdy plants that love the stony placesHave always had a special charm forme.Needing of nourishment such scanty tracesTo shape themarvels of their symmetry.Rosettes and chubby stars onnarrow ledgesSmooth out the wrinkles in the rock'shard frown,Or find afoothold inthe sandy wedgesBetween the boulders ancient stormsrolled down.Rounded ofspiny,White-powdered,dusty-blue,They range from stout agaves to the tinyBudlets that spread ameager inch ortwo.

leaf, fierce dagger-tipped ormottled, striped or

Year-round they hold the forms of sculp-tured flowers;And who would ask for further garnish-ing?Yet, wakened bythe kiss ofwinter showers,They lift upflaming tapers to thespring.DESERT BANQ UET

By FLORENCE A. MORRISONLa Habra, CaliforniaOh, come with me tothe desert inMayWhen the early sunrise wakes the dayAnd see the beauty ofcolors fair,For Nature isgiving abanquet there.Wildflowers cover the mesa land:A great wide table ofsilver sandSpread for the bees and the butterfliesWith afeast ofnectar from Paradise.The poppies lift their golden cupsAnd thebutterfly lights anddaintily sups.The timid violets smile toseeThe little wild people dance ingleeOver the clover and larkspur spreadFo r a feast that lasts till it's time for bed.When thesun grows hotand the dry windsblowThe wild buds droop with heads bent low.The poppy cups break and dry isthe cloverAnd then this wonderful feast isover.But the desert winds will scatter the seedTo grow and bloom and meet the needOf the little wild folks that live inthe airAnd come to theMay-time feast each year.

WIND LO REBy GRACE PARSONS HARMONDesert Hot Springs, CaliforniaI like the wind! The tales ittellsIt tells of lands afarOf oceans crossed sublime heightstouchedWhere Time's great wonders are!

It calls aninvitation gayTo follow inits wakeTo seek those distant, yellow strandsWhere blue seas whitely break!The desert wind, aminstrel fineIn cadence ringing clearWeaves thrilling tales ofother lands.That those who pause may hear.For those who are not yet attuned,

Who do not understandIt writes for them of breeze-roughedpoolsIn ripples onthe sand!DESERT MAGAZINE


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Sierra Club party at summit of Coxcomb Peak. Seated, left to right, are JackLasner, Marge Henderson, D ick Apel, Bill Henderson, Lo uise W erner, Tom Cor-rigan; standing, John Malik, Jon Gardey, Ronald Gilliam, Gary Bratt.We Cl imbed Coxcomb Peak . . .

"This is an exploratory climb," Bill Henderson wrote in the SierraClub Bulletin. "We will try to reach the highest point in the Coxcombran ge , north of Desert Center in Southern California." Here is Lou iseWerner's account of the Sierrans' climb of this little-known desert peakand of their pre-hike visit to Metropolitan Water District's isolatedaqueduct station at Eagle Mountain.By LOUISE WERNER

Photos by Niles WernerBill Henderson, a graduate studentat the University of California at LosAngeles and an ardent Sierra Clubmountaineer, had sparked our enthusi-asm for the trip. "Th is is an exp lora-tory climb," he had written in theSierra Club Bulletin. "We will try toreach the highest point in the Cox-comb range, 10 to 12 miles of traillesshiking, with a 3000-foot gain in eleva-tion. The re is no information abou tthe roughness of the terrain, so wearsturdy boots; and bring water, as itwill be a dry camp."Our interest was further fanned bythe fact that we would be gathering

THE ragged comb of afighting cock, the mo untain srose from the desert floor northof Desert Center, California. On ourmap they are marked "Co xcom b." Isuspect the title had been Cockscombbefore an unknown map-maker stream-lined the descriptive name which prob-ably had been given to the range or-iginally by an imaginative old pros-pector.This range, with a summit approxi-mately 4400 feet in elevation, was thedestination of our Desert Peaks partyof Sierra Club members during theNew Year's holiday in 1952.

information to be put later into aGuide to the Desert Ranges of theSouthwest, a project of the DesertPeaks Section of the Sierra Club. Hun-dreds of mountain ranges erupt fromthe Southwest desert floor, and thereis little or nothing in print about manyof them. Our exploration would help.We felt like pioneers.Twelve of us would make the trip.Bill and Marge Henderson had invitedU.C.L.A. Mountaineers Dick Kenyon,Jon Gardey, Dick Apel, John Malik,Gary Bratt, Jack Lasner and RonaldGilliam. Tom Corrigan, my husbandNiles and myself completed the party.We drove the 175 miles from LosAngeles east on U. S. Highway 60 tothe town of Desert Center. From herewe could see the southern tip of the

Coxcomb range, about eight miles tothe north. The range widens out in anorthwesternly direction for about 20M A Y , 1 9 5 3


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Above Aqueduct workers and their families live comfortably in theisolated community of Camp, at Eagle Mountain. Homes, shaded withcottonwood trees, are modern, completely electric. Housewives shop atIndio, 51miles away.Below Metropolitan Water District's aqueduct at Eagle Moun tain. Thisis one of the pumping stations which help lift Colorado River water overmountain barriers toconsumers inSouthern California.

miles. The widest part, near the northend, contains the highest point.On the map we noticed a brokenline running through the southern tipof the Coxcombs, indicating wherethe Metropolitan Aqueduct tunneledthrough the range, bringing ColoradoRiver water to Southern California.Our eyes followed the line southwestacross Chuckawalla Valley to the EagleMountain Aqueduct Station.Everyday we Southern Californiansuse water brought to us through thisaqueduct. But we seldom give athought to thepeople involved in keep-ing this water coining, in helping itover the mountain barriers betweensource andconsumer. We had an extralong holiday, a little more than weneeded for our exploratory climb, so

we decided to visit the Eagle Moun-tain station andCamp, where the main-tenance workers live.The road to the station takes offfrom Highway 60 about three mileswest of Desert Center. Six and a halfmiles of secondary hard-surfaced all-weather road took us northward to theopen reservoir and the pumping sta-tion.Water does not flow into SouthernCalifornia as easily as tourists. Hereand there along the line it must begiven a boost. This is done by pump-ing the water up a slope, to allowgravity to take it on to the next station.The 240-mile aqueduct has five suchpumping stations.At Eagle Mountain it takes ninemaintenance workers to keep this proc-

ess running smoothly. The workersand their families live in Camp. EvenL. A. Ledbetter, utility man at thestation and a bachelor, is given familyresponsibility he daily drives thechildren to school in Desert Center.At that time, the entire grade schoolpopulation consisted of two girls, Ju-dith Ann andLinda LeeDean, 10 andeight respectively. They are daugh-ters of Highline Patrolman RalphDean.

Have you ever speculated on howyou would manage if you lived in anisolated, sundrenched outpost on theColorado Desert? No public library,no theater, no opera house. Not evena store. Knowing all your neighborsintimately, and being known the sameway.No streetcars, buses, traffic jams,factory whistles or ambulance sirens.A peace and quiet so audible to thecity dweller, that he cannot sleep at

night until he becomes conditioned toit. More sunshine to the cubic inchthan you'll find almost anywhere inthe world and at night more stars.And occasionally a rattlesnake underyour porch.Wide open spaces all around, withlow hills in the background. Bighornsheep roaming by. And on Saturdayafternoons Johnny doesn't counter youwith, "But mother, all the other kidsge t to go to the show, whycan' t I?"Camp, they call the little village theaqueduct built for its maintenance

workers . A dozen well-kept, whiteframe buildings line the main street.Tall spreading cottonwoods shade thehousesnot identical houses, but in-dividual ones.We found Mr. Ledbetter tr imminga bamboo windbreak. He showed ushis fine bed of 'mums, a row of sweet-peas in bloom and some tomato plantsbearing good sized fruit."I came here in 1933, during con-struction, andstayed on as utility man,"he told us. "Youought to go over tothe garage and talk to our station

mechanic, Elmo Field. He'sbeen here18 years too. He has the first DesertMagazine ever printed. Editor RandallHenderson tried to buy it off him once,bu t he wouldn't sell."Mr. Field told us that he rememberstemperatures as high as 120 and aslow as 22 degrees. We were enjoyingright then a sunny-nippy 50. Rain-fall averages three inches annually."I shot a rattlesnake under myporchlast week," said Mr. Field, in answerto our question about snakes. "Wedon't have sidewinders here. And not

as many rattlers as we used to. Yousee, General Patton's Army was allthrough here. They sure went after theDESERT MAGAZINE


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rattlers. Other wildlife seems scarcertoo ."Kit foxes occasionally sneak pastcamp . A herd of eight bighorn sheepsometimes roams in sight. Fo r about11 years, the oldtimers in Camp hadrecognized an old ram among thesheep. Every year he seemed to lookthinner. Last year they noticed thathe was nothing but skin and bones.He staggered along, hardly able tokeep up with the herd. They saw himfinally falter, and stop. The herd wenton without him.Some of the men went up fromCam p to see what was wron g. Theram saw them coming, but didn't runaway. He settled himself down on thegroun d. The men realized that he wasdying. Thou gh his legs could nolonger support his body, his head stillcarried high his magnificent set ofhorns.Mrs. Weeks hiked up and took apicture of him. We felt fortunatewhen she let us have the negative.Though we have often seen bighornsheep at a distance in the desert moun-tains, we have never been able to geta picture of on e. For pictu res, it seemsyou either have to stalk them alone (aparty is too noisy) or catch them dy-ing. Eith er way takes a lot of patien ce.There are no stores in Camp. Oncea week the housewives list what sup-plies they need, and a truck goes toIndio for them. The nearest movieis at Indio, 51 miles away, and so isthe nearest high school."Radio? Reception is poor here."said Mr. Field. "Better from the eastthan from the west. Television is im-possible." Hills circle the horizon.The men work 22 days and thenhave six days off. M r. and Mr s. Fieldoften spend their time off exploring theprehistoric Indian campgrounds in thePinto Basin . They also like to go toIdyllwild in the San Jacinto Mountains,about a hundred miles west of Camp.It is the nearest wooded area. M rs.Field teaches school in Desert Center.The two rows of yellow cotton-woods that line the main street beck-one d us. A little girl in a red co atwas pumping a swing in one of theyards. "H er mo ther is probably in,"said my husband, readying his camera.We had heard that this being a holiday,many of the women would not be inC amp."When you've got two small young-sters, you don't go so much," said thelady of the house, who introducedherself as Mrs. C. A. Weeks, wife ofone of the station's two highline pa-trolmen. She invited us into her at-

tractive 5-room home.The Weeks' home is typical: elec-trically heated in winter and electrically

Linda, 8 , and Judith Ann Dean, 10, daughters of Eagle Mou ntain Station'sHighline Patrolman Ralph D ean, have no sidewalks on which to play. Butthe garage provides a n excellent rink for their Christmas skates.

cooled in summ er. M rs. Weeks cookswith electricity. No t many of us citywomen can afford completely electri-fied homes.We prowled around Camp somemore and found two lighted tenniscourts, a swimming pool and a com-munity barbeque shaded with featherygreen tamarisk trees. Through a gapin the greenery, we could see, acrossa seven-mile stretch of desert, a large,triangular white scar on the face ofthe Eagle M ountains. Tha t, welearned, was Kaiser's Eagle MountainIron Mine. Two of the women from

Camp work in the mine office, andsome families attend church there. Itis the nearest church to Camp.Mr. Field had gone to lunch, andthe two Dean girls had transformedthe garage into a roller skating rink.There are no sidewalks in Camp, andthe pavement is pretty rough for rollerskating. W hat's a girl to do in a caselike that, if she gets a pair of rollerskates for Christmas?We'd had an enjoyable day at theEagle Mountain Aqueduct Station. Ourgoal now was the opposite side of the

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Coxcombs, and a camp within strikingdistance of the highest point.To reach the east side of the Cox-comb Range, we took the Parker Damroad out of Desert Center. Twentyeight miles northeast of Desert Center,we angled left on a dirt road. Thisseven-mile stretch is washboardy, butfirm. We turned left again on a little-used road that wasn't much more thana cleared strip, stayed on it for a milean d a half and turned right on a sim-ilar strip. A mile later we stopped andmade camp.Our object was to get as near aspossible to the eastern base of thenorthern end of the Coxcomb Range .

Bill Henderson's weapons carrier,which he calls "Brunhilde, the Ele-phant Wagon," could have gone an-

other mile or two, but we had twotown cars in the carav an. Besides, thisspot was littered with timbers left byPatton's Army, and we wanted to takeadvantage of the handy fuel supply.The elevation wasabout 1400 feet.

A frosty nip in the air drew usclose to our campfire, as v/e celebratedthe going out of the Old Year. Mil-lions of stars burned coldly in theblue bowl of sky that covered us. Asliver of setting moon illuminated theCoxcombs. Wraiths of cloud driftingover it made weird faces, with themoon sliver as a single eye. Notan artificial light was visible anywhere.Maestro Jon Gardey wielded a creo-sote baton. Gary Bratt strumm edchords on a uke, and Dick Apelpumped a toy concertina while Marge

Henderson and I vibrated melody ontwo combs. Niles Werner occasionallyadded thecymbal clash of tw o tin cups.Bill Henderson boomed out the basson a pie tin, and Jack Lasner addedan exotic touch by rattling rocks in atin can. What the musicians lackedin finesse, they made up in enthusiasm.A gallon tin full of hot punch made byJack Lasner warmed the shiveringmusicians before they crawled intotheir sleeping bags.New Year's day dawned clear andcrisp perfect hiking weather. Weleft camp at about seven a.m. Thecontour lines on Bill's topo map indi-cated that we might run into somesteep going, so Tom Corrigan carriedthe rope. Shell holes pitted the twomiles between camp and the base ofthe mountains. At the turnoff fromthe Parker DamHighway, we had en-countered a sign saying: "DANGER!D o nothandle unfamiliar objects foundon the desert. They may be unexplodedammunit ion."We made our way through creosoteand staghorn cactus as high as ourheads. Desert lupine hugged theground. Rounded bladder pod bushessported gay yellow blooms."The map shows a canyon leadingin about here," said Bill. "It seemsto head directly for the highest point.Or I should say the highest points.There seem to be two points verynearly the same elevation."The canyon shut us in, as if the

Coxcombs had accepted us as visitorsand closed the door. We walked sin-gle-file up a sand-carpeted wash, fol-lowing the fresh tracks of bighornsheep and coyotes. The next bendwas never far ahead. The washsloped upward so easily at first, wehardly realized we were climbing. Oureyes wandered up anddown the rocky,out-sloping walls. The nubby rocksgleamed rich red-brown like thepatina of hardwood furniture that hasbeen polished for 50 years. An airyblue skydrenched in sunlight furnisheda pleasing complement in the colorscheme. Here andthere a vine crawledon the white sandy floor, bearinggourds the size and shape of oranges.Soon the canyon walls took onbolder patterns. Rock faces reachedout toward us at gravity-defying angles.Walls met sky in a clash of gendarmes,pinnacles and needles. A little higherup, the canyon waschoked at intervalswith boulder slides. No easy walkinghere, looking at the scenery! On allfours, we scrambled over boulders,keeping our eyes on the trail.

The rough, coarse granite gave ex-cellent traction for our lug-soled bo ots,especially when large slabs lay at theangle where maximum friction was8 DESERT MAGAZINE


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necessary to hold us on. But I hadneglected to bring gloves, and I skinnedmy fingers scrambling up jagged slopes.We Sierrans like a climb with va-riety, and this one had it. Stretches ofeasy sandy wash alternated with rock-scrambles. Weencountered a tarantulasunning himself on a boulder. Hewas sluggishly indifferent to our prod-dings. The shadows had crept downone wall and were climbing the other.A small flock of birds darted betweenthe canyon walls. Hardy ground-cher-ries with little lantern-like pods peeredout of crannies.

We stopped to admire some bould-ers that were attractively honeycombedwith small cavities, probably the workof wind and sand. The cavities them-selves were larger than their openings,and their floors were covered with sand excellent shelters for rodents orbirds.W e had not yet spied the summit,

but figured it was to our right. Weclimbed out of the canyon and toppeda saddle at about 400 0 feet. Aheadwe saw a single peak, its slopes dottedwith pinyon pine. Out of a depressionnear by rose an exceptionally largepine specimen. The ground under-neath it was lush with vegetation, andwe suspected there might be a spring.We contoured up the pinyon-dottedslope. As we spiralled from north towest, we saw, across a 200-foot drop,another ridge, with two summits thatlooked higher. M ome ntary discour-

agement engulfed us. It's an experi-ence familiar to all mountain climberswhen a peak is practically climbedsuddenly to find a higher summitahead.We stopped and bolstered our cour-age with lunch . Bill got out his handlevel and sighted across at the twopeaks. "They're so nearly the sameelevation, that I can't tell the differ-ence from here," he said. "We'll haveto climb one and see.""Which one?" we wanted to know,having visions of having to climb them

Above The rocky walls of Cox-comb Canyon are weathered to arich red-brown "like the patina ofhardwood furniture that has beenpolished for 50 years," writes theauthor.Below When the old ram lay dy-ing on the hillside above Cam p,Mrs. C. A. Weeks, wife of one ofthe aqueduct station's highline pa-trolmen, hiked up for this picture.Though his legs could no longersupport his body, the old bighorn'shead still carried high his magnifi-cent set of horns.

.y ; |m.*s.jffiiaasH

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Mrn^

A gently sloping wash provided easy walking at theentrance of Coxcomb Canyon.Soon canyon walls narrowed, and theparty had to contend with catsclawandslippery weather-varnished boulders.both. One looked more difficult thanthe other so wesettled for theeasierone, the one to ourright.We dropped down 200 feet, andfrom there a 20-minute rock scrambleput us ontop. Bill sighted across. Hemade unintelligible noises while wewaited forthe verdict. Finally hesaid,"A s far as' I canmake out, the twopoints areexactly thesame elevation."Gary Bratt had a look and declaredthe one we were onwas higher, thoughonly by a hairbreadth. Tom Corriganagreed. We found no benchmark,cairn orany other indication that othershad been here ahead of us. This isunusual, especially in an area wherethe military hasbeen stationed. Webuilt a cairn andleft a canwith ournames. Bill wrote: "This is presum-ably thehighest point in theCoxcombRange."Our peak was on thewestern edgeof the north part of therange. In theimmediate foreground, steep raggedgulleys tore down the slopes in thedirection of Pinto Basin. But the eye-catchers in that direction were the

peaks of SanGorgonio and San Ja-cinto, snow-mantled and mysterious,in the fardistance. Across theChuck-awalla Valley we caught a glint of sunon water. It helped us to spot theEagle Mountain Aqueduct Station,backed up against the thin chain ofthe Eagle Mountains.The view to the southeast encour-aged speculation andplanning for fu-

ture climbs. Range after range ofdes-ert mountains stretched away as faras we could see: the Palens, theGran-ites, the Little Marias, the Big Marias.Like an undulating carpet of choco-late-brown velvet, they stretched tothe vanishing point.It's awonderful feeling to sit on topof a desert range. Onsnow peaks theclimber usually must arrive beforeeleven a.m. to be reasonably sure ofa view. And then he is uneasy aboutthe weather, and anyway, there's noplace to sit except on thecold snow.

On High Sierra peaks afternoon stormscan hit suddealy, and it's always along~way back tocamp. But onmost

desert peaks, these worries areforgot-ten. The view lasts all day. Onecanbask on thewarm rocks without fearof a sudden storm. And the desertpeaks arehospitable for three seasonsof theyear, which is more than canbe said formost mountains.On our way down we avoided LunchPeak and the saddle by staying in agulley to the right. We reached thecars at about 4:30 p.m. From ourmap we hadguessed the trip wouldtake a good half day, be fairly directand perhaps require a rope here andthere. As it turned out, it took a fullday, wound around a good deal,andwe had noneed of therope.But these thingsthe unexpected,the uncalculableare what make upthe thrill of exploration in the un-charted mountain ranges of the vastSouthwest desert land. Having climbedCoxcomb Peak unguided, we hadgathered information which would behelpful to future mountaineers. Tired

but happy, we knew we were onechapter nearer publication of our Des-ert Ranges Guide.10 DESERT MAGAZINE


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The operations of Columbia Iron Mining Company (left) and Colorado Fuel andIron (right) scar the juniper slopes of Iron Moun tain near Cedar City in SouthernUtah. From these hills in 1852 ca me the first iron manu factured west of theMississippi. Estimates o f ore reserves in this and surroun ding area range from100 million to 400 million gross tons. (Photo courtesy Columb ia Iron Mining Co.)W here M orm ons Founda M oun tain o f Iron . . .

W h e n Brigham Young led his Mormon band to Utah in 1847 hewas determined to found a colony which would be entirely seli-sus-taining. Fortunately, Utah had everything that was necessary for anagricultural community, including the iron for the plough-shar es. Andhere is the story of where the iron came fromand how it was convertedto the use of the colonists.By GUSTIVE O. LARSONMap by Norton Al len7ODAY, NEAR Cedar Ci ty, Utah,on the juniper-green slopes ofIron Mountain, giant electricshovels are taking 5-ton bites out ofa great iron ore deposit, and loading

the metallic rock into trucks and rail-road cars for treatment at the reduc-tion plants.Recently I visited this great iron

ore pit-mine in company with Dr.William R. Palmer, historian of CedarCity, and together we extended ourtrip of inspection to a nearby bend inCoal Creek where Utah's first blastfurnace was erected nearly 100 yearsago.Little remains of the original work-ings. Only bits of iron ore d isclose

the site of the original mill where Mor-mon pioneers saw the first molten pig-iron come from the rock that wasmined nearby. A Paiute Indian villagelies beyo nd the creek. A primitive logcabin, preserved in the city park, shel-ters a 150-pound bell cast in 1855.Nothing else remains in the immediatevicinity to remind visitors that CedarCity was once the hub of activities forwhich Iron County, Utah, was named.As we walked over this long aban-doned millsite, Dr. Palmer recalled forme the history of Iron Mountain'smining industry.When the Mormons in 1847 turnedoff the Oregon Trail to settle on the

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The large chunks of iron ore pass through crushing jaws of the reduction plantsbefore loading into cars for a 200 mile trip to Geneva Steel Plant in Provo, Utah.shores of the Great Salt Lake, theywere determined to build a self-sup-porting commonwealth in the GreatBasin. Jefferson Hunt of the MormonBattalion in California traversed pres-ent Iron County several times as heshuttled between San Bernardino andthe Mormon settlement. On October31, 1849, he recorded:

"We traveled 13 miles and campedon a stream called Little Muddy (pres-ent Coal Creek of Cedar City) . . .near this spring (Iron Springs) areimmense quantities of iron ore."Thatsame fall Parley P. Pratt led an ex-ploring party of 50 horsemen south-ward from Salt Lake. In late Decem-ber he recorded his impressions ofLittle Salt Lake and Cedar Valleys:"Other port ions of this plain aredry and level, delightful for the plowand clothed with rich meadow grass,rabbit weed, etc. . . . on the south-western borders of this valley are thou-sands of acres of Cedar (juniper) con-stituting an almost inexhaustible supplyof fuel. In the center of these forestsrises a hill of the richest iron ore."Iron was a necessity in the buildingof the Mormon state. Brigham Youngdeclared, "Iron we must have, we can-not well do without it." Sowhile Prattsponsored the creation of Iron Countyin the Territorial Legislature, Younglaunched an "Iron Mission." A callfor volunteers appeared in the DeseretNews of July 27, 1850:

"Brethren of Great Salt Lake Cityand vicinity, who are full of faith andgood works, who have been blessedwith means . . . are informed by thePresidency of the Church that a colonyis wanted at Little Salt Lake this fall;that 50 or more good effective menwith teams andwagons, provisions andclothing, are wanted for one year.Seed grain in abundance and tools inall their variety for a new colony arewanted to start from this place im-mediately after the Fall Conference torepair to the valley of the Little SaltLake without delay. There to sow,build and fence, erect saw mill andgrist mill, establish an iron foundryas speedily as possible . . . "George A. Smith led a company of120 men, 30 women and 14 childrenwith 101 wagons southward in De-cember. They planted a colony wherethe Spanish Trail crossed the LittleSalt Lake Valley and the west end ofthe old trading route rapidly becamethe "Mormon emigrant route to Cali-fornia." An agricultural base locatedon January 13, 1851, wascalled Paro-wan (Paiute for evil wa ter) . Then inNovember of that year 11 wagonsmoved into fort position on the LittleMuddy (later changed to Coal Creek)and Cedar City was born as an ironmanufacturing colony. Its first citizens

were Mormon converts from miningand iron manufacturing centers ofEngland, Scotland, and Wales.

While some of the pioneers wereassigned to farming and homebuilding,the others began preparations for ironmanufacturing. A road was built intoCoal Creek Canyon (now the approachto Cedar Breaks and Bryce Canyon),a blast furnace built, and materialsassembled. Preliminary experimentsdemonstrated that local coal was un-suited to smelting purposes and muchlabor went into assembling dry pitchpine and cooking operations. Thewilderness rang with sledge hammerblows which reduced iron ore to thecapacity of the primitive furnace.Paiute Chief Cal-o-e-chipe wel-comed the colonists but his clansmengathered in such numbers as to speedMormon defense organization. Atyear's end the camp historian, HenryLunt, wrote:". . . in the midst of semi-hostilesavages, guarding, fencing, farmingand exploring and building houses,mills, etc., we have had our prayersanswered in the preservation of ourlives and property." He continued inth e newyear: "January 1, 1852cameupon us in the estimation of a pleasedGod, the whole people were calledtogether and in a mighty prayer wethanked the God of Israel for his pastblessings upon our labors and pres-ently called upon Him to bless us inthe future and to enable us to maintainourselves in this desert land, to pro-tect us from the Indians and to ac-

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complish the mission we were sent toperform, namely, the manufacture ofi ron."At last, in September, a trial runwas readied with great expectancy.The entire village waited through thenight for tapping ceremonies. Therecord of the iron company statessimply, "On the 29th of Septemberthe blast was put on the furnace andcharged with iron ore that had beencalcined. Th e fuel used was stone coalcoked, and dry pitch pine wood in theraw state."On the morning of the 30th thefurnace was tapped and a small quan-tity of iron run out which caused thehearts of all to rejoice." The surrou nd-ing hills echoed with a chorus of'hosannah, hosannah, hosannah, toGod and the Lamb!' and a committeeof five horsemen was elected to carrysamples of the iron to Brigham Youngin Salt Lake City.

Citizens of Utah Territory followedeagerly the progress of iron manufac-turing in the Deseret News: "An ex-cellent air furnace was nearly finished(February 26, 1853) built of adobeswith a tunnel 300 feet long to conveythe smoke to a chimney stack 40 feethigh. An extensive frame building hasbeen erected for a casting house."

The lusty tones of this 150 poundbell cast in 1855 originally calledthe iron colonists together in theCedar Fort and later served CedarCity where it hung in the belfry ofthe old hunt Hotel. It is currentlyin the keeping of Cedar City Chap-ter of the Daughters of Utah Pion-ers. (Photo courtesy York Jones)

April 2, 1853: "In the beginning ofMarch, 1853, the blast furnace wasrun once a week during which 25,000pounds of clear good iron were madeand 600 bushels of charcoal were con-sumed."October 15, 1853: (Following out-break of Walker War) "We have sixmen with the herd of cattle daily, wellarmed, and a strong guard every night

around the fort, and as soon as thefort is enclosed, we hope to commencethe iron works anew. A tremendousflood came down Coal Creek on Sat-urday, September 31, carrying an im-mense quantity of logs and rocks ofgreat size. It did considerable damageto the Iron Works."In spite of discouraging fuel prob-lems, failure of waterpower, and dev-astating floods, considerable iron wasmanufactured for local use. The or-iginal company yielded to the DeseretManufacturing Company which hadbeen capitalized in England on ordersof Brigham Young. It produ ced cast-ings for home manufactured machin-ery, molasses rolls, flat irons, stoves,plows, nails and horsesho es. Kitchenand household utensils were sold inthe surrounding country and stovegrates were carried as far as the Span-ish Missions in California. A large,

T O S A L T L A K E C I TY

C E D A R B R E A K S-N A T 'L . M O N .

TOB R Y C EC A N Y O Na u.s. 89 *=*ffu

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AII that remains today of old Iron Town the chimney of the original blast furnace and the beehive charcoal oven where the fuel was manu factured for Iron Townmining in the 1870s.clear-sounding bell, cast in 1855,served the community for many years.

A Federal army, invading Utah toquell a so-called Mormon rebellionin 1857, brought the iron works toa stand-still. The Mountain Meadowstragedy cast its blight over the city,causing heavy loss of population. He-roic efforts to revive the industryproved fruitless when the middle'sixties brought promise of a trans-continen tal railroad . Th e last run ofthe old furnace converted seven wagonloads of Johnston's Army cannon ballsinto molasses rolls and other usefularticles. Cedar City turned to farmingand stockraising.

Then, in 1866, the Great WesternManufacturing Company, capitalizedprivately by enterprising Mormons,launched the iron industry anew. "OldIron Town" became a thriving villagewest of Iron Mou ntain. Fo r two dec-ades the industry, under various names,produced considerable quantities ofiron, suppling much needed castings

for Silver Reef, Pioche, Bullionvilleand other mining communities.But Iron Mountain was destined towait for a new century before it couldmake Utah the fourth largest iron oreproducing state in the union. OldIron Town joined the ghost towns ofthe West, preserving the stack of itsblast furnace and a beehive charcoal

oven to mark its place in the OldSpanish Trail. Less conspicuous arethe remains of a Spanish arrastre em-ployed to crush clay for use in themolding processes. Throug h the ef-forts of the Utah Trails and Land-marks Association and Iron CountyChapter of Sons of Utah Pioneers, theplace has been fenced and marked asa memorial to early pioneer industry.The present phase of Utah's ironproduction began when Columbia Steelblew in its Ironton (Utah County) pigiron plant in 1924. Iron Countywatched its mining output rise to nearlytwo million gross tons before the closeof Wo rld Wa r II. U. S. Steel took

over the war-time Geneva plant in1946 and Utah iron ore tonnagejumped to 2,741,000. Colorado Fueland Iron began using Iron Mountainore in 1942 and not long after thearea became a major source of ironfor Kaiser Steel Co rpor ation . In 1931Utah's employment in the iron indus-try averaged 69 workers and the an-nual payroll averaged $99,000.00. In1951, the number employed in theindustry had jumped to 616 and theannual payroll to $2,664,000.W hat of the future? W hat reservesare locked up in this "hill of richestiron ore" as it was called in 1849?Estimates by the U. S. Bureau of Minesinclude 100,000,000 gross tons ofnear 50 percent grade, plus anothertwo or three hundred million "in-ferred" tonnage. Whatever hidden re-sources time may disclose, they willbe sufficient to insure that the iron

industry which had its beginnings,west of the Mississippi, in Cedar Cityin 1852 has come to the West to stay.14 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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H A R G U A H A L A B O N A N Z A . . . . . .By JAY ELLIS RANSOMPhot ographs by t he au t horMap by Norton Al len

Y FATHER and I s topped be-side a group of palo verdetrees to make camp. Allabout us the ragged peaks of Arizona'sHarquahala Range bolstered up thesky. The stars of the January constel-lations began to appear as we gathereddead wood for our campfire.We had gotten our directions earlierin the day when we stopped at thetown of Salome for gasoline. The sta-t ion at tendant had told us: "Therewere famous gold mines in the Har-quahalas 60 years ago, and they couldwell become famous again. Particularlythe Harqu ahala Bonanza. That minewas a real producer."

We had been intrigued by the placenames which appeared on the Arizonamapthe Harquahala Range to thesouth of U. S. Highways 60 and 70,the Harcuvar Range to the northand had come here on a rock huntingtr ip.When we learned about the oldmines that lay only a few miles to thesouth of the highway, we decided thatif this region was good to the miners

of an earlier generation, it might alsobe good to a couple of rockhounds oftoday.With the sun sinking low in the west,we turned south past Salome's adobejail. A broad dirt road, with forksbranching off to new mines being de-veloped in these rich hills, led us fourmiles to the entrance of a narrowtwisting canyon.Although this canyon is not markedon the map, we were sure it was theplace described to us as CentennialWash. The mountains closed in around

us and the road dipped and curved likea gigantic roller-coaster. We foundour camping site at 8.1 miles from Sa-lome. Early the next morn ing we con-tinued our journey to the old Harqua-hala mining camp.Beyond the first scattering of build-ingssome of adobe and others builtof railroad ties were two sharpragged peaks. All along the base ofMartin Peak, on the right, great minescast their detritus, gray and weed-grown where gallus frames raised theirempty arms above the long dead shafts.

These were the Harquahala Bonanza,the Extension, Summit Lode, the Nar-row Gauge and the Grand View. Be-

The Harquahala Mountains of Southwestern Arizona are scarredwith the slashes of mine adits and access roads, the gray detritus oftailing dumps and the deteriorating remnants of a once-booming miningcam p. The famou s Harqu ahala B onanza, the Extension, the SummitLode, Golden Eagle, Grand View and Narrow Gauge mines al l werebig gold producers 50 years ago; but today the hills are quietexceptfor occasional blasts of a few leasers carrying on limited operations.Mrs. Rose Johnson, owner and caretaker of the Harquahala, still hopesfor a rebirth of large-sc ale minin g in the district. Yo u will me et Mrs.Johnson in this story and will explore with Jay Ransom the HarquahalaBonanza and the abandoned but still rich gold country in which it lies.

hind us, in a widening arc lay theGolden Eagle and its subsidiaries.The noise of braking to a stop onthe gravel in front of the only inhabitedresidence in the old camp brought awoman out onto the porch. Obviouslysurprised at having visitors in thislonely place, she emerged into the

Thirty-degree inclined shaft of the Harq uahala Extension. One can walkthrough this mine in perfect safety, following drifts into the moun tain.

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sunlight dressed in levis, a plaid shirtand wool sweater. Beneath her grayhair bright eyes twinkled."I'm Mrs. Johnson," she introducedherself, "owner and caretaker of theHarquahala."We introduced ourselves as rockhunters. "I remember hearing of theHarquahala mines 40 years ago," Dadadmitted. "Is it all right if we pickover the old dumps, and maybe takesome pictures?"

It was fine with Mrs. Johnson, andshe pointed out and named the scat-tered structures that remain in the oncepopulous mining center. After show-ing us the nearby adobe school, almostroofless but still used as a storehousefor her personal supplies, and anotherlarge adobe across the valley whichshe said was the old administrationbuilding, she faced the gray dumpsgleaming at the foot of Martin Peaka quarter of a mile south. Indicatingthe most easterly mine where two sun-burnt frame buildings seemed to beholding up a gaunt crosspatch of tim-bers, she explained: "That's my Har-quahala Extension. I have $75,000invested in that mine. It's in goodshape, and if you have carbide lampsor flashlights, you can walk down theincline and explore as much as youlike underground."

With the January sun warm on ourbacks we listened to her recall howthe Harquahala Bonanza, most famousof the several big producers in thedistrict, was originally located on No-

vember 14, 1888, by Harry Wharton,Robert Stein and Mike Sullivan. "Theywere just burro prospectors whoquickly sold out to a Mr. Hubbard,"she explained. After gouging out afortune in a rich ore pocket, Hubbardsold the mine to an English companyin 1893, and until its virtual abandon-ment at the time of the first WorldWar, the Bonanza alone produced$3,631,000 in free-milling gold ore.While Mrs. Johnson described theold camp she knew so wellshe camehere from Phoenix after selling out a36-room hotel and boarding houseI could visualize the frantic activitythat had invaded these desolate moun-tains and for two decades had over-flowed the canyons with the noise andbombast of mill roar and blasting, in-congruous in die peaceful morningsunlight of today.She pointed to the wash that ranalong the north base of the mountains."The Mexicans who worked in themines had their homes there," she re-membered. "The floods arid fire haveremoved nearly all traces of them,but," she added, laughing, "their mem-ory persists. They were ignorant fel-lows, peons out of Old Mexico broughtin to do the heavy work for the lowestpay. But I guess they weren't so dumb.They used to be known as the smok-ingest workmen ever to mine gold, andit was a long time before the mine

owners learned they were highgradingthe richest ore in their pipes."The more daring miners used to

scrape the arrastres and smuggle outthe gold wholesale. Whenever theywere all set, somebody would give asignal, and all the children in thecamp would gather around, singing ina chorus. They'd bring a hand organout of the church and play it, pumpingthe bellows for all they were worth.Nobody thought until much later when the mines were beginning toclose downthat maybe all that play-ing and singing was done to drownout the sound of their fathers stealinggold."In contrast to many of the richmining towns of the early West, Har-quahala was never a wild boisterouscamp. Highgrading was done quietly.Of course, there was the usual assort-ment of saloons and entertainmentpalaces, and now and then a knifingoccurred in the Mexican settlement.

The freighters who brought in sup-plies overland from Yuma were ahard-bitten, desert toughened bunchof jerk-liners, and they occasionallycaused trouble.Water was scarce, and a 30,000-foot pipe line from Harrisburg wasput in to supply the water for the campand its 40-stamp mill. Remnants ofthis cast iron line still may be seen."The ore was very rich," Mrs.Johnson explained. "It lay in chim-ney veins, sometimes in solid nuggetsthe size of a man's fist. I remember

one nugget, sprouting leaves of solidyellow gold out of a chunk of quartz,that brought $10,000. But most of16 DESERT MAGAZI NE


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!

: ' S S \ / : J " . - S * 1 '. v . 'tj. vn.sf-, >-- jm^^m'. *sC * * " ...*: writSettling pans, like giant crucibles, liebelow theclayey silt dump of what mayhavebeen a flotation-type mill, no longer existing. The size of the pans may be judgedby Jay Ransom, Sr., seated on a sediment filled pan.

Martin Mountain (right) and the famous Harquahala glory hole which resultedfrom the collapse of tunnels andstopes. Drifts honeycom b this once famous p eakfollowing fabulously rich veins ofalmost pure gold.M A Y , 1 9 5 3 17


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the gold was scattered through redhematite along the contact of lime-stone with a basal granite."Her enthusiasm increased as shetold us about the Bonanza mine, be-cause her own mine had reached anidentical type of mineral bearingquartzite-granite porphyry similar tothat which produced the richest orebodies in the Bonanza."The old Bonanza used to be calledthe Castle Garden, and sometimes the'million dollar ' stope. It's still wideopen, and you can visit it if you wantto climb down the ladder into the shaft.The ore"she showed us a pile ofspecimens alongside her cabin"con-tains silver and lead as well as gold.The lead alone is worth reopening myExtension property."In the heyday of the district, miningwas carried on by inclined shafts withcrosscut adits and drifts along theveins. About 2000 feet of tunnels

comprise the Bonanza alone. Most ofthe veins dip from 30 to 60 degrees,Mrs. Johnson's being the most shallowand therefore easiest to visit. Wh ilethe Harquahala Range consists ofcrystalline rocks, mostly pre-Cambrianbut including some Paleozoic strata,it has been tilted in various directionsand intruded by dark-colored basicdikes. Veinlets of quartz and calciteare found through out the area. Oreshoots occupied zones of shearing be-tween a sedimentary series of lime-stone, shale and quartzite with thebasal granitic formation. Pyrite wasdeposited along brecciated zones thatare now filled with sericite. Th e mainveins were from a few inches to manyfeet wide. Some of the quartzite isconglomerate, appearing to lie on anold shore of granite, dipping south-west.We wandered about the area, visit-ing different mine dumps and lookingfor samples. We found some interest-ing gold-bearing quartzite specimens.Visiting the Harquahala Extension, westrolled down the inclined shaft to thelimit of visibility. Th e tunnel was dry,and I noted a steadily rising tempera-ture as we went farther into the moun-tain. Timbe ring and ties beneath thenarrow gauge track were in excellentcondition.An interesting side light on theHarquahala operat ions concerns thetimb er used in the mine s. Since thispart of Arizona is totally devoid oftrees, all lumber had to be freighted in.Most of the timber used was Oregonpine shipped down the Pacific Coast tothe nearest port and freighted to themines. The total cost averaged $26 athousand delivered! Timber broughtfrom Flagstaff, the only other avail-able source, cost about the same.

18

Belovl a two-acre tailing deposit offine redjsilt at the Harquahala Exten-sion, wd stumbled upon a half dozengiganticjsteel crucibles lined with ce-men t. This type of settling basin musthave been peculiar to the Harquahalamilling operationspossibly a flota-tion type mill because in all themines I've visited in the past dozenyears, I have never seen its like be-fore. Above the pans and erodingdown over them, the red silt depositrises approximately 30 feet thick. Ero-sion has carved strange shapes andchann els throu gh it. On its right risethe mortarless, fitted stone founda-

tions of the old mill. Ho weve r, alltrace of the mill proper has vanished.I am curious as to how those mam-moth crucibles were used.At the Bonanza mine we saw evi-dences of fairly recent work whereleasers had been active. A large ballmill had been erected on new concretefoundations, but neither flint nor ironballs were in evidence. Newly builtstructures rose below the great minedump where a cook house and messhall stood, and beside the tall gallusframe stood a well-constructed build-ing of cement and sheet iron. A nearlynew spring cot stood alone in one

Mrs. Rose Long Johnson, owner of most of the Harquahala mines andcaretaker of the properties, displays a sample of gold ore from herHarqua hala Extension mine.

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room and next to it had been built alarge concrete shower.We learned the answer to this rid-dle when, finally, we returned to ourcar and gossiped a while longer withthe caretaker."There was a man came here tenor 12 years ago," she explained, agleam in her eyes, "who had managedto get $40,000 from a rich oil man.He put in some improvements andbuilt a new pipe line for water. Butthen he got tangled up with the postalauthorities trying to sell stock, Isuppose. Any way, he's been in theFederal penitentiary for the last tenyears . . ."I've always had a feeling that whenleasers begin to gamble any sizeablesum of money in an old, seeminglyworked out mining district, there mustbe something more than rumor andhearsay left in the ground. An d leas-ers have become increasingly activearound the Harquahala as evidencedby the development going on at thenearby Golden Eagle. Mrs. Johnson'seyes burn brightly with the eternalhope of all old-timers that her mineswill come back, and perhaps they will.After all, she has $75,000 of her ownmoney tied up in what assay reportsshow to be a promising mine. "Bu t ittakes capital," she sighed, "and $75,-000 is only a drop in the bucket."Just before leaving, I admitted tothe gray-haired, bright-eyed woman anincident that had occurred back inSalome. A miner working for one ofthe leasers had stopped us. "W e werewarned not to come out here withouta permit from the owner," I said,smiling. "T he man who stopped uswanted us to visit his mine. He saidyou had a shotgun loaded with rocksalt, and would shoot us first beforeasking questions. He said you werehaving a lot of thieving highgraders inhere stealing good ore."Mrs. Johnson burst into laughter."How funny," she gasped, "when I'mthe owner. Sure, there used to behighgraders, 40 years ago, and I cer-tainly do have a shotgun. But it 'sloaded for jackrabbits, and I've got aplenty of them." Her eyes twinkledat us. "Besides, you don't look likesneak thieves, and I do get mightylonesome for company now and then."Thanking her for her hospitality,we got into the car and settled our-selves. I pressed the starter. M rs.Johnson leaned in the window, shak-ing hand s. "A s a matter of fact," sheconfided, "with all that money I've gotinvested in these mines I'd like to do a

little highgrading myself, if somebodywould only show me where the goldi s ."

U ta Solve 1R ue&&Recent discovery of a long-desertedhermit's hideaway in a remote sectorof the desert wilderness 40 miles southof Tropic, Utah, was believed at firstto hold a clue to the mysterious dis-appearance in 1934 of the Los Angelesartist and poet Everett Ruess.Information regarding the hideawaycam e f r om H a r v e y C h y n o w e t h ,rancher, who with his son Ralph washerding cattle on a Taylor grazinglease when they discovered the camp.It consisted of two plywood, metal-covered shacks and a walled in cave.Everything about the camp indicatedcareful planning and good workman-ship.When found, one of the huts had abed, but it evidently had never beenused, as a trail led a quarter of a mileto a camp where the hermit appearedto have lived while he was buildingthe structures.The mystery builder had broughtwater up the steep trail in bodies andalso brought in enough food to last fortwo years. Eight pairs of pajamas,plus an expensive down comforterseemed to indicate the owner was notunacquainted with the finer things oflife.An electric generator of the wind-driven variety, complete wilii copper-sheathing driving vanes was found.And in examining the generator, theranchers discovered one item aboutthe builder: he must have had a phobiaabout serial numbers.Numbers on the generator and iden-tifying marks had been scratched off.Numbers on the thermometer he usedalso were obliterated.It was nearly 80 miles east of thiscamp that 20-year-old Everett Ruesswas last seen in November, 1934.Ruess left Escalante, Utah, November12 with two burros and a supply offood for two months.His destination was the canyoncountry in the region where the Esca-lante River joins the Colo rado. Hewanted to explore some Moqui cliffdwellings in that area, and paint andwrite, as he had been doing for years.Two months later when Everett 'sparents, Christopher and Stella Ruessof Los Angeles, failed to hear fromhim they became alarmed and askedthat a search be mad e. Posses sentout by the Associated Civic Clubs ofSouthern Utah spent many clays scour-ing the region. They found Ru ess'burros in an improvised corral in Davis

Gulch, a tributary of the Escalante,but no trace of the body or of Everett'scamp equipment was ever found.Among those who took part in thehunt for Everett it is generally agreedthat the recently discovered hermit'shideaway was not an Everett Ruesscamp, and that the finding of the her-mit camp offered no further clue tothe solution of the Ruess mystery. SCULP TURED SCENE F RO M DEATHVALLEY IS CO VER DESIG NIn the winter of 1849-50 a littlegroup of mid-westerners bound forthe California gold fields struggledacross the arid floor of a fantasticvalley in eastern California and event-ually reached a summit in the Pana-mint Mountains from which they couldlook back on the desolate basin wheresome of their companions had losttheir lives.Included in this group were thefamilies of Asabel Bennett and J. B.Arca ne. They had entered the valleyin ox-drawn wagons, but when it ap-peared necessary to scale the rangethat blocked their passage to the westthe wagons were abando ned. ' Theoxen were slaughtered for meatallexcept one. 01 ' Crump had becomea family pet, and he was selected tocarry over the mountains the twoyoungest children, Martha Bennettand Charley Arcane, in saddlebags thathad been improvised from the men'shickory shirts.

Standing on a rocky crest, membersof the party turned and gazed downat the simmering salt flats which hadbrought bitter hardship to all of them.From the lips of one of them camethe words:"Goodbye, Death Valley!" Andthus was Death Valley given its name.It was from this dramatic incident the naming of Death Valley, asrecorded by William L. Manly of theBennett-Arcane party in his bookDeath Valley in 1849 that CyriaAllen Henderson got her suggestionof a Death Valley scene to be modeledin clay. The 16-inch model was ex-hibited in Furnace Creek Inn duringthe Death Valley 49er Encampment of1952, and since then has been dis-played at the Palm Desert Art galleryin the Desert Magazine Pueb lo. Fo rreproduction on this month's cover,the sculptured group was photographedon a 4x5 Kodachrome transparency byJosef Muench of Santa Barbara.

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Spring rains have not come to mostdesert areas, and wildflower prospectsgenerally are unfavorable for May.Exceptions are the Coolidge, Arizona,area and Saguaro National Monumentnear Tucson. Go od cactus displaysalso are predicted for Apache Junc-tion, Arizona, and Death Valley.More wind storms and continueddrouth in California's Coachella Val-ley shriveled the few wayside flowerswhich remained in March. Canyonsoffered the hiker a fair display of oco-tillo and palo verde and scattered spe-cimens of primrose, lupine and mal-low, but there was no expanse of colorlike that which carpeted the dunes lastyear.Lake Mead National RecreationAreaThere are a few places in theLake Mead area where plants areblossoming in fair numbers, accordingto Russell K. Grater, park naturalist,but in general the flower show therealso is poor this year. "We have oneconsolation," Grater wrote Desert April1. "There will be lots of seeds on theground waiting for next year's rainsif they come!"

Joshua Tree National MonumentSuperintendent Frank R. Givens doesnot expect many flowers this May,usually the best month for Joshua treeblossoming. The trees will produceonly a few blooms. "This year hasbeen satisfactory for the photographerswho take close-ups of individual flow-ers," Givens points out, "because manyvarieties are blooming. The blossomsare just not as profuse as usual ."

Death Valley National MonumentMarch winds dried up plants in DeathValley National Monument, and thisyear's wildflower display is mediocre."However," noted Acting Superinten-dent E. E. Ogston late in March, "thecacti around the 2000-foot level arein bud and should produce a goodshowing of beavertail in late April."Apache Junction, Arizona Al-though no match for last year's spec-tacular display, this spring's wildflowershow in the Apache Junction area hasbeen colorful. "Th ere are lupine andmallow along the highways," JulianM. King observed Apri l 1, "but wedo not see the great fields of flowerswe did a year ago." King predicts agood bloom of cactus for May. "Bylate April the hedgehogs will be in fullblossomthey are start ing nowaswell as staghorn cholla, palo verde andironwood trees and the giant saguaro."

Saguaro National MonumentThemonument area near Tucson, Arizona,

is one of the few Southwest regionsto enjoy a good 1953wildflower sea-son. Annuals and perennialsinclud-ing brittlebush, desert marigold, desertzinnia, globe mallow, paper daisy, chia,phacelia, beadpod, alfilaria, desertaster, pentstemon and ocoti l loprom-ised good displays for April and May."The first part of May should be thesignal for cactus blossoming," pre-dicted Samuel A. King, superintendent."Prickly pear, can e, staghorn and teddybear chollas and some late hedgehogspromise an abundance of flowers. Thepalo verdes also will be impressivethis year, and we should have a gooddisplay of flowers on the soapweedyuccasparticularly those along theroad south of our headquarters inMay. "Antelope Valley "No rain, noflowers," sums up Jane S. Pinheiro'sappraisal of the 1953wildflower year.On a March tour around Baker, DeathValley, Trona and Antelope Valley,Mrs. Pinheiro found few noteworthydisplays. "Near Barstow I saw nicestands of yellow primrose, browneyedprimrose and desert sunflower," shereported late in March, "but every-where else things were stunted or dry-ing up." Antelope Valley plants thisyear generally are dwarfed and drywith few flowers. One exception isthe Wilsona area to the east which ishost to numerous primrose and sandverbena.

Casa Grande National MonumentMay flowering forecast for the monu-ment area near Coolidge, Arizona, isexcellent, according to SuperintendentA . T. Bicknell. Due to a high degreeof precipitation this winter, the flower-ing season is a little ahead of schedule."Our saguaros have become quiteheavy from so much rain," writesBicknell, "and, unfortunately, occa-sionally they seem to have become toobloated. I've observed that severalhave been blown over by our heavywinds these past two months ."

Mojave Desert"The early promiseof a spectacular flower season wasnipped in the bud by drying winds andlack of rain over too long a stretch,"writes Mary Beal from Daggett, Cali-fornia. "But there are places where anormal display of bloom greets thetraveler, many of them in this area.Especially colorful is the region alongHighway 66 between Pisgah Craterand Amboy which is a large sea ofglowing gold with desert sunflowers;mingled with them are some smallerplantsmarigolds, evening primrose,

M a r d K o c k S h o r t yofDeath

ValleyHard Rock Shorty was tack-ing a crudely lettered sign onthe front of the Inferno store asa party of tourists parked theirca r in front of the building andclimbed the steps to the lean-toporch. The sign read:

M U C K E R S W A N T E DAt theJackass Mine

(Signed) PISGAH BILL , Supt."Wonder why they call it the

Jackass Mine?" asked one of thedudes as he stopped to read thenotice."That's 'cause the mine wuzfound by a burro," said HardRock. "An' if youwonder howadonkey could find a mine I'lltell yu."Burro belonged to PanamintPete. He'd had thebeast longer'nanybody could remember. Burrowuz so old it wuz havin' troublewith its teeth. They wuz plumbwore out from gnawin' on hambones and coffee grounds. SoPete had to feed 'im hot cakesan' beans."One day when Pete wuzprospectin' over in the Funeralrange the burro wandered overinto the next canyon, an' whenPete finally caught up with thecritter it wuz chewin' on a rock.An' then it spit that one out an'started chewin' on another one.Animal kept that up fer quite awhile andPete finally got curiousabout that burro's appetite ferrocks and pried open its mouthto see what's what."An' believe it or not, thatburro had nearly a full set o'gold fillin's in its teeth. CoursePete wuz curious about wherethat gold came from an' when heexamined the quartz outcropwhere the burro wuzstandin' hefound it full o' wire gold."An' tha t was how the Jackassmine got its name."

Mojave poppies and sand verbena.The mountain areas, blessed as theywere with more rain and snow, shouldhave good flowering in late April andMay. "

20 DESERT MAGAZINE


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P I C T U R E So f th eM O N T H .

Se*ttitel4>...Clctir Stone of Montrose, Cali-fornia, came upon this garden offlowering yuccas on the desertnea r Sunland , California. His pic-ture won first prize in Desert Mag-azine's Picture-of-the-Month con-test for March. It was tak en witha 4x5 Bush Pressman camera,Raptar lens, Wratten A Filter, East-

man infra-red film, 1 second a t f.20.

This study of Taos Pueblo, NewMexico, drowsing in the middaysun, won second prize in theMarch contest for A. La VielleLawbaugh of Whittier, California.Lawbaugh used a 4x5 PacemakerSpeed Graphic camera, 5" Ektarlens, A filter, Super XX Panchro-matic film, 1/50 second at f. 16.

21


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The Blond M ayo rod e alone on his trips to the secret mine. He took n o miningtools, but always came back with his six mules loaded with rich gold ore.L o s t M in e o f th e B lo n d M ayoBy JOHN D. MITCHELLIllustrated by Bill EdwardsMap by Nor ton Allen7N MILES northeast of the oldmining town of Arivaca, Ari-zona, half way between Babo-quivari Peak to the west and Old

Baldy or El Felon, stands the BlackPrincess, a natural rock formationcarved by wind and sand to resemblethe body of a woman lying outstretchedon top of the highest ridge in the CerroColorado Mountains. Vividly out-lined against the sky, the Black Prin-cess glows and gleams in the sunsetand looks so realistic that she has longbeen held sacred by the Opata andPapago Indians.In winter she is feared. On wildstormy nights when the wind howlsdown across the Catalina and Cerritamountains, lightning leaps from theblack clouds that settle down over thehead and shoulders of the Black Prin-cess and eerily silhouette her formagainst the sky. Thu nde r rolls backand forth across the steep canyonwalls, rain comes down in sheets andswirls that loosen huge boulders fromthe steep mountainsides, hurling theminto the raging torrents to be leftstranded on the floor of the desert be-low. Wild boars seek shelter from theraging elements in the dark caves un-der the shelving lava flows, and giantjaguars from the Moche Cowie coun-try in Sonora stalk their prey aroundthe few rock tanks and the one naturalspring that bubbles from under the

Each week, the blond MayoIndian would mount his silver-saddled horse and ride offalone into the hills around theBlack Princess mountain nearArivaca, Arizona. And eachtrip he would return, his sixburros loaded down with richgold ore. Here is John Mitch-ell's story of a lost mine firstworked by the Spaniards, re-discovered by the blond Mayoand his brother, and, with theirdeaths, now lost aga in.

tufa beds on the north side of themountain.But when springs comes, the BlackPrincess looks down serenely from themountaintop upon desert plains bril-liantly carpe ted with wildflowers. Th esun, setting behind the ragged edge ofthe Baboquivari range, crowns herwith gleaming gold. When the mooncomes up over the Santa Rita moun-tains and sheds its long rays of silverylight down across the Cerrita andColorado mountains, and the desertbreezes begin to stir, the snow-whiteyucca blossoms that cluster around thefeet of the Black Princess are turnedinto swaying ghosts with fleecy veils.

There are many legends about theBlack Princess mou ntain. Perhap s themost interesting is the tale of the lostgold mine of the Blond Mayo Indian.It was in 1861, about the time the

United States Government withdrewits troops from Arizona to fight inthe Civil War, that the two Mayo In-dian brothers, Juan Morales, the blond,and Fermin, his younger brother, cameto the Arivaca country from the MayoValley in southern Sonora. Upo n thedeparture of the troops, the Apachesand Mexican bandits again renewedtheir raids on small mines and out-lying ranches, and the pioneers weregathering in Tucson and Arivaca forprotection. John Poston, superintend-ent of the Silver Queen mine at CerroColorado, and a number of his em-ployes had just been murdered byMexican bandits from Sonora. Uponthe grave of John Poston and manyothers, both American and Mexican,the men of Arivaca swore the Ven-dettathe "Vengeance of the West"and kept it .The two Morales brothers , Juan,locally called El Guero Mayo, andFermin made their living panningplacer along Arivaca Creek and on thesurrounding mesas which were rich ingold. In the course of time the BlondMayo quit his panning operations andmade many trips into the surroundingcountry. He seemed to be searchingfor something. One day he came intocamp from a northeasterly direction,his six pack mules loaded with richgold ore. The quartz was ma tted to-

gether with wires and masses of brightyellow gold and had a blue indigotinge, probably brom ide of silver. The22 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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ore looked as though it had been minedmore than a hundred years before. Ad-hering to many of the pieces were smallbits of a porous lava rock suggestingthat it might have come from one ofthose rare pipes or chimneys foundin lava flows. Wherever found in anypart of the world these pipes or chim-neys have produced millions in gold.The Blond M ayo made m any weeklytrips into the northeast end of the dis-trict in the vicinity of the Black Prin-cess, always returning with his sixpack mules heavily loaded . Th e richgold ore was treated in arrastres thatstill stand on the north side of Arivacacreek about three miles west of town.On these weekly trips to and fromhis mine, El Guero Mayo, like youngLochinvar of King Arthur's court,"rode all alone and through all the widebord er his steed was the best." How -ever, unlike the gay young knight, hedid not ride unar med . Across thepommel of his silver-mounted saddlerested a long rifle, and from the twowell-filled cartridge belts around hisslender waist dangled a pair of heavyColt revolvers. The Blond Mayo wasa dead shot; the way he picked off anApache chief or buck at long rangewas a continual source of wondermentto his many friends as well as to thetribespeople back in the hills awaitingthe return of the victim. He was gaunt,eagle-eyed, tireless and remorseless asdoom when it came to avenging the

death of a friend at the hands of anAp ache. H e rode the high ridges andthe skyline, as Indians do, avoidingas much as possible the narrow passesand the mesquite-choked washes wherean ambush might be laid against him.Old timers in Arivaca, like DonManuel Gonzales and Don TeofilioOrtiz, who knew the Blond Mayowhen they were young men. say thatnormally he was quiet and stayed awayfrom strong drink. But occasionally,when he received an extraordinarilylarge return on his ore, he went on arampage a "ra mto och " they calledit. On these rare occasions he cameinto town six guns blazing at the skyand yelling like a Comanche Indian.The sound of his horse's clatteringhoofs and the roar of his guns weresignals for all the little brown mucha-chitos and some of the older ones torush into the dusty street to scramblefor the handfuls of silver coins thatEl Guero Mayo would throw at theirfeet.Arivaca was a wild camp in thosedays, filled to overflowing with mule-skinners, bullwhackers, miners, gam-bucinos, vaqueros, saloonkeepers, tinhorn gamblers and dance hall girls.Money was plentiful, the people werehappy despite the raids of maraudingIndians, and bailes, fandangos andfiestas were held with or without prov-ocation. Brilliantly caparisoned cabal-leros rode their fine horses up and

down the dusty streets and courtedbeautiful senoritas sequestered behindgrilled windows. Mu sic was romantic,soft, low and con tinuo us. The fires ofthe smelting furnaces along the creekshown blood red in the night sky, andApache warriors rode the skyline inthe early morning light.As the years passed, the Moralesbrothers prospered from their miningoperations along the creek and backin the hills. Ferm in, the youn gerbrother, ran cattle on the Caleraranch three miles north of town, andEl Guero Mayo established a cattleranch on the Batamonte Wash belowthe Black Princess Mountain, presum-ably to keep an eye on his bonanzagold mine.While the brothers were somewhatsecretive when it came to discussingtheir private affairs, it is believed bymany Hispano-Arizonans around Ari-vaca that they came north for the ex-press purpose of locating and working

this rich gold mine . Th ere is muchevidence to show that the mineper-haps the old Sopori Minewas firstdiscovered by the Jesuits or otherSpaniards that came north in the wakeof the Coronado Expedition searchingfor the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola.Old Spanish and early American mapsshow the Sopori mine in the vicinityof the Black Princess Mountain. Manypeople confuse it with the old Isabelleshaft located one and one-half miles

BoboquivarifikJj^i'y^Jyf,}

: % i - i --


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I R tFebruary water supply reports com-piled March 1 by the U. S. Weathe rBureau and the Soil ConservationService have increased the anxiety offarmers, ranchers, stockmen and river-runners in the southwestern states. Ingeneral, February precipitation wasexceptionally light, averaging less than30 percent of normal. From everywatershed station came even lower

south of the Sopori ranch house. TheIsabelle was worked by the Jesuitfathers from the Tumacacori mission.An old volume in the Arizona Statelibrary at Phoenix reports: "The So-pori mine was known all over Arizonaand Sonora for the richness of its ores."

The ruins of an old adobe smeltingfurnace on the arroyo west of theBlack Princess and the walls of anold mission that stand on a long pointof land jutting out into the AltarValley east of Baboquivari peak wouldseem to indicate that the mine wasknown to and worked by the peoplewho lived around this mission, perhapsby the priests and their Indian neo-phytes. The name of the mission hasbeen lost. It may not have been afull-ranking mission, but a visita or ahalfway station on the trail from othermissions in western Sonora, where thepadres stopped to rest and say Masson their way to San Xavier del Bac,Tumacacori, Guevavi and Cocospra,all on the Santa Cruz River south ofTucson.

When old and full of years, ElGuero Mayo died while on a visit tohis old home in the Rio Mayo Valleyin Sonora, Mexico. Fermin, theyounger brother, died in Arivacaabout 20 years ago and lies buried inthe old Campo Santo on the northedge of the town.Lester Fernstrom, a tungsten minerin the Arivaca district for many years,flew his plane over the Black Princessmountain a few years ago and reportedhaving seen a long open cut on theside of the mountain . The cut waschoked with huge boulders and couldwell be the entrance to the BlondMayo's mine. The Indian was neverknown to have carried any explosivesor mining tools with him to or fromhis mine, and those who knew himagree that he probably found the orealready mined by the former operators.

The fact that the ore brought to thearrastres showed no fresh surfaceswould seem to bear this out.

tve*supply predictions than the discourag-ing ones published last month.Streamflow forecasts for the variousColorado Basin watersheds are as fol-lows:

Colorado River above CiscoThecurrent water supply outlook for theColorado Basin above Cisco is notfavorable. Median forecasts are forflows of 66 to 82 percent of the 1941-50 average, except for streams drain-ing from the San Juan Mountains.Water run-off of only 53 percent ofaverage is indicated for the Umcom-pahgre River at Colona; 56 percentof average for the Dolores River atDolores.Green River BasinForecasts thismonth are lower than those issued lastmonth for all of the Green River Basinexcept the Wyo ming portion. De -creases of 6 percent to 15 percent inforecasts for the Utah tributaries bringaverage predictions down to from 60to 81 percent of normal.San Juan River BasinWater sup-ply forecasts for the San Juan Basinare 8 to 15 percent lower than thoseissued February 1. Wa ter-year stream -flows for the basin are ex pected torange from 47 to 64 percent of aver-

a g e , assuming precipitation for Marchthrough June is near normal.February was the third consecutivemonth that the Little Colorado, Saltand Verde River basins have had lessthan normal precipitation. The stormof the first few days of March, accom-panied by precipitation amounts onlyslightly less than normal for the month,gave some assurance that the watersupply picture would not be adverselyaltered during the ensuing month.Little Colorado River BasinSharpdownward revisions in the forecastsfor the Little Colorado River Basinwere a result of the light Februaryprecipitation. The March storm bright-ened things somewhat, but the currentoutlook remains poor. The November-June run-off for the Little Coloradoat Woodruff is expected to be only 30percent of the 1941-50 average.Gila River BasinLittle change isnoted in the poor outlook of last monthfor the upper Gila Basin. Median fore-casts are for flows of only 19 to 33percent of average. November-Junestreamflows for this area would fallshort of average even if the March-June precipitation equalled the maxi-mum of record. Curren t forecasts forthe Salt and Verde River Basins arefrom 9 to 21 percent lower than thoseof a mo nth ago. W ater-year stream-flows of approxim ately half of the 10-year average are in prospect for thesebasins.

P r i z e s f o r U n u s u a l P i c t u r e s . . .There are still wildflower blossoms on the higher levels for thosecamera fans who like to roam the desert in quest of unusual pictures.Wildflowers are just one of many subjects eligible for Desert Maga-zine's Picture-of-the-Month contest. Sunsets, Indians , lan ds cap es , wild-life, unusual rock formations and sun and shadow effectsin fact,anything on the desert holds the possibilities of a prize photograph.Commonplace objects such as Joshua trees and Saguaro cactus arenot as popular with the contest judges, however, as are unusual shotsof unusual subjects.Entries for the May contest must be in the Desert Magazine office.Palm Desert, California, by May 20, and the winning prints will appearin the July issue. Pictures which arrive too late for one con test areheld over for the next month. First prize is $10; seco nd prize $5.00. Fornon-winning pictures accepted for publication $3.00 each will be paid.

1Prints ior monthly contests must be black and white. 5x7 or larger, printedon glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplace . Also technical data: camera, shutter speed , hour of day. etc.3PRINTS WILL BE BETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contestmonth.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional photographers. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7Judges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be madeimm ediately after the clos e oi: the contest ea ch month.Address All Entries to Photo Editor

'Decent THAyaftae PALM DESERT. CALIFORNIA24 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Litterbug Levity . . . Reno, NevadaDesert :Allow me to inject a little humorinto the current and much too seriousdiscussion about litterbugs.W. J. Gilman's letter in the Februaryissue of Desert suggests that throw-away articles such as beer bottles, cans,milk cartons and "one-blow hankiesand diapers" be taxed to pay for high-way clean-up. I personally can't seehow a family living in Maine could beheld responsible for highway misbe-havior on the desert 3000 miles away.Gilman's suggestion of trash con-tainers for cars conjured a picture in

my mind of an auto dashing along the

highway with a garbage can bulgingfrom its side. His idea of trash serv-ice at service stations sounds somewhatunromantic; no motorist would wantto be asked: "How's your oil? Water?and, by the way, sir, shall I checkthe trash?"Can your readers imagine signsalong the highway : "Ente ring the des-ert. Get your trash cans her e." Or :"Last Chance dump. Dispose of yourtrash before it's too late."F R A N K L . F E R R A R O

Closed Season foi Rockhounds . . .Denio, NevadaDesert :This is to advise the rockhound fra-ternity that no opal diggers will bepermitted to go on my claims duringthe 1953 season, nor will campingcourtesies on my home claim be ex-tended. This action is made necessaryby the fact that I have to earn a livingdigging opals for myself, and I simplywill not have the time to keep tab onvisiting firemen of the rock hobby.Sorry, but no means no! 1953 will beclosed season for rockhounds at theFoster claims.

M A R K M . F O S T E R

The New Teacher . . .Fullerton, CaliforniaDesert :"Life on the Desert" in the Febru-ary issue of Desert Magazine, aboutLouise Switzer Thompson's experiencewith the pack rat in her country school-room, reminded me of an incidentwhich occurred while we were return-ing from a trip east in September, 1918.As we were driving through thewide open country of Northern Ari-zona, we passed a schoolhouse thathad obviously just been repaired. Newglass shone in the windows; roof, sidesand the outhouses were newly patched.It looked as though the buildings hadnot been used for years. There werenew hitching racks and a recently builtshed as shade for horses.Less than half a mile farther wecame upon a house to which a newroom had just been added. Now therewere enough children to justify a new

teache r, we guessed. A few miles alongwe met a pony team pulling a highspring wagon in which two peoplewere riding. A very slender man saton the right side of the seat and amite of a girl on the exrem e left. Shehad on a very new dress and a saucylittle hat and she looked nearlyfrightened to death. In the back ofthe wagon were a shining new trunk,two unscratched suitcases and severalboxes of groceries.Many is the time I've wonderedhow the new teacher made outalso,

how long she stayed in that country.I hope she may read this and recognizeherself and write to Desert about it.There was only the one house insight for many m iles. It wou ld beinteresting to have a sequel to what Isaw. C HAR LES S . KNOWLTONOnly the Ghosts Remain . . .Los Angeles, CaliforniaDesert:One of the most interesting of theghost towns of the West is fast disap-pearing.

Last fall we visited Aurora, Nevada(Desert Magazine, July 1947) by theonly entran ce road still usable. Wefound to our dismay that these oldbrick buildings dating back to theearly 1860s were being torn down. Infact, many had already disappeared.Some Nevada Road Departmentemployes later told us that Reno junkdealers have been in there tearingdown the buildings and carting thebricks off to Reno to sell.It seems a shame that this interest-ing old place has to go this way.H U G H T O L F O R D

Custer's Last Stand . . .Redondo Beach, CaliforniaDesert :The short review of the book ATrooper with Custer, in the Marchissue of Desert Magazine, seems tohave a mistake in the date of thebattle. Shouldn 't it have been June 25 ,1876, instead of 1874, as the reviewreports?I think of Billings, Montana, as myhome, and it was here that GeneralCuster's personal aide lived for years.Here also, my father had charge of thefuneral of U. S. Scout Henry M. (Mug-gins) Taylor, the first white man toreach the scene of the massacre.It would be a shame to add twoyears to the Little Big Horn contro-versy. The only ones who know thereal story of that June morning onCuster Hill have been sleeping overthree quarters of a century.R. N. SHUART

Desert's book reviewer was sleep-ing too. Reader S huart is right correct date for Custer's Last Standis June 25-26, 1 876. Custer hadled an expeditionary force into theBlack Hills country in 1874.R.H.Canned Water . . .San Francisco, CaliforniaDesert :One of our members has inquiredwhere he might procure canned water.

We have checked several sportsstores in San Francisc o. While they

"Hey, Ma! Where's the can opener?"

have heard of it, they do no

195305 Desert Magazine 1953 May

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Transcript of 195305 Desert Magazine 1953 May