193805 desert magazine 1938 may

8/14/2019 193805 Desert Magazine 1938 May

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for MayAPRIL 23-24 Ramona pageant to bepresented at Hemet, California. Pag-eant also to be presented on weekendsof April 30-May 1, and May 7-8.APRIL 28 to M A Y 1 Frontier Day

"Hel ldorado" at LasVegas, Nevada.Horseman's association to stage rodeodurin g last three days of Frontier Dayprogram.APRIL 30Universi ty of Arizona stu-dents tohold their first annual rodeoat the grounds of theTucson "LaFiesta de losVaqueros." LeeLoweryin charge.APRIL 30-MAY 1Pioneer Daycele-bration to bestaged at 29Palms, Cali-fornia. Mrs. Arthur Hast ings isgen-eral chairman.M AY 1Annual horse show at Yuma,Arizona.M A Y 1Great Corn Dance andFeastD ay of SanFelipe at SanFelipe Pue-blo, New Mexico.MAY 3Ceremonial dances, Taos Pue-blo, New Mexico.MAY 3Feast Day of Santa Cruz andannual fiesta andperformance of LosMoros y losCrist ianos, New Mexico.MA Y 6-7 Morm on officials from SaltLake to participate in dedication ofmonument to Geo. A. Smith, Jr., atTonalea, RedLake, Arizona. Smithwas killed byNavajos in 1860.MAY 7Hiking Club of State Teach-ers' College at Flagstaff tomake prac-tice hike to Mount Elden as trainingfor 5-day trip to lower Grand Canyonlater.M A Y 9 Annual prospector's miningcourse toopen at Winnemucca, Neva-da , andcontinue four weeks.MAY 10-11Episcopal diocesan con-vention at Raton, NewMexico.MAY 12-14National regional band

contest at Provo, Utah.MA Y 13-14Annual Livestock show atDelta, Utah.MA Y 13-15Tenth annual Cactus showsponsored by the Cactus and Succu-lent Society of America at Rust 'sNursery in Pasadena.MAY 14-15Barstow, California, willcelebrate Calico Days at "The OldTrading Pest ." Leon P. Whitney,chai rman.MAY 15Feas t Day of SanYsidro inSan Ysidro and other villages,NewMexico.MAY 16-17New Mexico Pharmaceu-tical association convenes at Raton,New Mexico.MAY 27-28Annual fiesta held in theplaza of old Albuquerque on Satur-day and Sunday following May 26,feast day of SanFelipe de Neri .MA Y 28S ix-month trout season opensin Arizona.MAY 30Pioneer Days celebration atClovis, New Mexico.

V o l . I M A Y , 1938 N o . 7C O V E RC A L E N D A RP H O T O G R A P H YHI ST ORYN A T U R EH U M O RPRIZESC A M E R A A R TPE RSONAL I T YC O N T R I B U T O R SG E M SARTPE RSONAL I T YPRI Z E WI NNE RSM I NI NGPOETRYDESERT HOMEP L A C E N A M E SWE AT HE RFICTIONN E W SL A N D M A R K SB O O K SC O M M E N TLETTERS

Rainbow Natural Bridge insouthern Utah.Photo byHULBERT BURROUGHSImportant events onthe desert inM ay 1Prize contest winners 2Capi tan Pa lmaHis Dream Ended inTragedyBy ARTHUR WOODWARD 3Bitter Food forthe BurroBy DON ADMIRAL 5An y th in g Can Hap p en on theDesertBy OREN ARNOLD 6Amateur pho tographers ' con tes t 8The "Feel" of theDesertPhoto byW. M. PENNINGTON 9Trader at ThunderbirdBy MRS. WHITE MOUNTAIN SMITH 10Writers of the Desert 13Garnets Are Where You Find ThemBy JOHN W.HILTON 14The Desert IsHer WorkshopBy LARRY D.WOL M AN 15Mother of a Ghost Town

By CORA L.KEAGLE 16Prize contest pictures from Palm Springs . . . . 18The O'Briens of "Palo Verde Shack"By RANDALL HENDERSON 20"My Deser t Fas tness" and o ther poems 22Just anOld Army Canteen

By J. WILSON McKENNEY 23Compiled byTRACY M. SCOTT 26Reports of theMeteorologists 26Hard Rock ShortyBy LON GARRISON 27Here and There on theDesert 28Pr ize con tes t announcement 30Reviews of past andpresent l i terature 32Just Between You and MeBy theEditor . . . . 36From the Re aders Back Cover

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company, 697State Street, El Centro, California. Entered as second class matter October 11, It)37 at thepost office at El Centro, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879.Title registered No. 402.937 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1938 bythe Desert Publishing Company. Permission to reproduce contents must be secured fromthe editor in writing. Subscription rate $2.50 per year in U. S. A. or possessions. Singlecopy 25 cents.RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorTAZEWELL H. LAMB, Associate EditorJ. WILSON McKENNEY, Business Manager

National advertising representatives: S. H. WILLIAMS & CO., INC.: Los Angeles,Western Pacific Bldg.: San Francisco, 220 Montgomery St.; Chicago, Wrigley Bldg.; NewYork, 507 Fifth Ave.Staff representatives: Los Angeles, JOHN C. PUTMAN, Phone FEderal 9495; Phoenix,Stephen C. Shadegg, 14 E. Culver St.; Palm Springs, Don Admiral, Desert Museum.Manuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied by full return postage.The Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscripts or photo-graphs although due care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers should send noticeof change of address to the circulation department by the fifth of the month preceding issue.

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By GEORGE CLAYTONLong Beach, California

Awarded first place in amateur photographiccontest of the Desert Magazine in March, thispicture taken in Death Valley with a 4x5 Gra-flex, Panchromatic film, yellow filter, 1/40 sec-ond at fll.

Budding BayonetBy HAROLD R. TAYLOR

San Bernardino, CaliforniaSecond place prize winner in the Desert Mag-azine's March contest. Taken near the Lancas-ter cut-off through Cajon with Model C. Leica,Panatomic film, 1/20 second at f9.

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(Zapitanthe Ijuma5

His dream of a Spanish mission outpost onthe bank of the Colorado ended in tragedy

THE cool patio of Goberna-Don Bernardo Urrea's adobe^ ^ house in El Altar, Sonora, Lieu-tenant Colonel Juan Bautista de Anza satstaring at the colorful garden with unsee-ing eyes.His mind was a hundred leagues awayfar out on the trail to Alta California.That was a trail he had never trod, butgracias a Dios he would soon be travelingit if only he could get the necessaryhorses and a guide who knew the way.Here it was December, 1773 . Every-thing had been in readiness for the longtrek to Monterey when the accursed Apa-ches swooped down and drove off a largenumb er of pack animals and saddle horsesdestined for the journey. Pursuit had beenuseless. Given three or four hours headstart, the Apache raiders could never becaught. Anza learned this to his sorrow,even as did American troopers one hun-dred years later.

Anza had turned his face south to theAltar Valley for remounts. Don Bernar-do had promised aid. Now , with a freshsupply of animals seemingly assured, theleader of the first overland expedition toCalifornia was anxious to complete finalpreparations. If he could but find a guideto lead him through the leagues of desertland that stretched so far to the west, allwould be well."Senor Capitan!" A sold ado de cuera.

By ARTHUR WOODWARDDrawings by Glor ia Widmann

one of the 60 leather jacket troopers whoacted as guard at the presidio of Altar,broke the quiet of his musings.Anza swung around in his chair."Yes?""Indios. mi capitan. Two Indians fromthe west. One speaks Spanish. He sayshis name is Sebastiano Tarabal. He sayshe is from San Gabriel in Alta Califor-nia. The other is called Salvador Palma.He is a Chief of the river Indians. Theywish to see your Excellency."Anza slapped his hand upon the table

joyously. Th e warm December sunlightfalling upon the garden of orange andlime trees, seemed suddenly alive withgood cheer."Indios from California? Hay que Chi-huahua! Send them in, tonto. Send themin!""Perdon. capitan, but before this Se-bastiano agreed to see you he wanted tobargain that he wouldn't be punished. Itseems he ran away from the priests at SanGabriel. He fears your wrath .""Punished? Madre de D ios y todos delos santos! Short of murder, I'd forgivehim anything, even to stealing your wife,mi Jose. Send them both in and bring

plenty of wine. This is a good day afterall."Under such conditions did Anza meetthe two Indians who were to contributelargely to his success in blazing the over-land route to Alta California from theprovince of Sonora.Of the two almost naked Indians whosquatted in the pleasant patio garden ofthe cornandante that sunny December dayin 1773, the most important was Olley-quoteuiebe, 'The W heezer,' named by theSpaniards Salvador Palma, powerful lead-er of the Cuchanos. Bolton the historiansaid: "Without Palma's aid Anza's workcould not have been accomplished, for, asthe sequel proved, the Yumas controlledthe gateway to California. "It was Palma who had offered to guidethe runaway Tarabal from the Coloradoriver to the Spanish garrison town of ElAltar. Tarabal had been sent by thepadres of Baja California to San Gabrielmission to aid the priests at that place.However, the Indian from Lower Cali-fornia had tired of sedentary life and,taking his wife and another San GabrielIndian man, had fled east toward thegreat river. Of the trio, Tarabal alonehad won through the fearful desert alive.It has been suggested that Palma hopedto obtain a reward from the authoritiesfor bringing in a deserter. W hat seemsmore probable is that the Yuma leader

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hoped to receive gifts for helping onewhom he thought might be a friend tothe white men. W ho was there to tellPalma that Indios who ran away fromSpanish missions were to be punished?For the first time in El Altar, Salvadorsaw an adobe church with three bronzebells in the simple bell gable on top ofthe flat roof. It was an unpretentious

structure, surrounded by an adobe boxwall, but in the eyes of the Yuma head-man it must have been a glorious edifice.There were no such buildings in Yuma-land. There were no priests, no soldierswith gaily painted leather shields andlong shining swords. Nor were there suchgleaming white houses as those which en-closed the dusty plaza. Palma must havebeen awed as he squatted there in thecool green patio, drinking a strange sweetliquid that burned pleasantly, and eatinga sponge cake that was foreign to histongue.Perhaps it was there in that garden,with its tinkling acequia watering thegrowing palms, (today they tower likegiants against the cool blue bowl of So-nora sky) that the dream of SalvadorPalma was born.For Palma, when he jogged home afew days later after being well treated byAnza, was resolved that ere long therewould be a Spanish mission on the hillbeside the Colorado. The Cuchanos wouldhave grey-robed priests among them.There would be Spanish soldiers withlance, sword and musket to help the

Yumas fight against their enemies.Two weeks later, Anza, in spite of asecond raid upon his horse herds, left thepresidio of Tubac amid the vivas of thescanty populace and a ragged salvo ofmusketry. At the head of the processionwith Anza and the two padres, Juan Diazand Francisco Garces, trotted SebastianoTarabal, the guide. Tarabal no longerfeared to return to California. Anza washis friend.All was quiet when the expeditionreached the Colorado. The journey over

el Camino del Diablo, the Devil's High-way, had been particularly trying, and be-fore they reached the broad, brown streamdisquieting rumors came to their ears.The Yumas were preparing for war.Ugly stories also had drifted like smokethrough the Yuma bottomlands. TheSpanish were coming 100 strong to raidThis drawing of the old missionchurch at Altar, Sonora, was madefrom an original sketch by Sr. Al-berto Escob ar whose family stilllives in the historic Mexican town.Capitan Palm a and Tarabal firstmet De Anza at this place.

Yuma homes and steal Yuma women.The instigator of this whispering cam-paign was Pablo, Capitan Palma's brother,whom the Spanish soldiers with their apt-ness for bestowing nicknames were soonto call Capitan Feo (Captain Ugly Mug).He w as decidedly ill-favored, had a harshvoice but was a persuasive orator. How-ever, Palma, who cherished his dream ofa mission beside the river, had promisedAnza the Yumas would welcome thenewcomers with open arms, not war clubs.Hence, he said, any Yuma who wouldslay a Spaniard must first slay Palma.This determined stand on the part oftheir strong minded leader smothered thewar talk and it was a merry, shoutingthrong of Yuma men, women and chil-dren who greeted the trail-weary Spanishparty on the east bank of the Coloradoriver that late March day.Palma had been unable to meet Anzawith the rest of the tribesmen. His ab-sence worried the Spanish leader.It was late in the afternoon. The bois-terous throng surrounded the little partyand although the Indians carried no wea-pons, the Spaniards were uneasy. Thewhite men kept their hands upon the hiltsof their long straight swords ready for in-stant action. At five o'clock a hush fellupon the Indians. Into camp strode Pal-ma, his face wreathed in a smile of wel-come.Anza was relieved. The evident re-spect paid to the Yuma leader indicatedthat the Indians would heed his words.Palma was glad to see his Spanish

friends, but one thing bothered him. Theso/dados de cuera never relinquished theirarms. Was that friendly? The Yuma war-

riors had laid aside their clubs and theirbows. Why didn't the Spaniards put asidetheir arms? Anza explained that it wasa Spanish custom for the white warriorsnever to be without their weapons."Ask these Indios if they accept Capi-tan Palma as their cacique?" said Anza tothe interpreter.The answer was a vociferous affirma-

tive."Good," responded Anza, "tell them Ishall give him som ething from the GreatKing that will show our love for Palma.The Spaniards love the Indios as theirown children. We recognize their greatleader as a mighty capitan."''A jot! A jot! Good! Good!" shoutedthe naked throng.Around Palma's neck Anza hung amedal pendant from a bright red ribbon.The silver medallion bore the likeness ofCarlos III, King of Spain. Palma fin-gered the gleaming token with gentlehands. Then he made a speech. He wasglad the Spaniards had come. Now theYumas would help them cross the river.When the next sun climbed into the skyall of the Yuma men and women wouldaid the white men to the opposite shore.The crossing was made the followingmorning at a spot designated by the In-dians. This was not far above the junc-tion of the Gila and Colorado.It was a colorful sight. Palma was incharge, his turquoise earrings bobbingbriskly as he shouted orders to the tribes-men who had assembled to ferry theSpanish party over the muddy stream.

Continued on page 34



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flnutkina on the

Prof. Wigglesivorth tries hatchinporcupine eggs in a hen's nest.

By OREN ARNOLD(Scientific sketches by Reg Manning)

As special investigator for this magazine, I have the honor of presenting tothe American public the inside confidential reports of scientists and scholarscomprising the Desert Institute of Truth and Veracity. What is science going todo tomorrow? What new fields will open in the development of human affairs?What can be expected from our regional thinkers everywhere? These signifi-cant questions are answered, far in advance of usual press releases, in the fol-lowing official reports taken direct from the case files of the Institute.

April 1, 1938.CASE NO. 1jf/OST significant development on/I/I the desert this year (available to" the public by midsummer) hasbeen in the field of commercial rubber.

The Institute's Dr. Throckmorton Q.Throttlebottle has completed test grow-ings of a newwild rubber plant, and hun-dreds of thousands of specimens havebeen quietly set out along sandy deserthighways. Leaves of this plant are nat-urally adhesive on one side. Motoristssuffering flat tires simply pluck a leaf,press quickly over the aperture in thetire, and drive on.Far more important, though, is theplant's potential service in reducing thetoll of automobile deaths. Limbs from therubber plant are so effective that metalbumpers on automobiles soon will bediscarded altogether for rubber tree

bumpers. Then when the car strikes apedestrian, the result is not a funeral buta pleasant bounce.In this connection, one of Dr. Throt-tlebottle's tests proved interesting. Histest car slipped from its parking place atthe top of a 200-foot hill, rolled downand struck a rock cliff. The rubberbumper bounced it back up to the top,and it rolled down on the other side.At the bottom of the other side wasanother cliff, so the rear rubber bumperstruck it and bounced the car back overthe crest again.Each bounce had force necessary toclear the hilltop, moving the car just fastenough to prevent Dr. Throttlebottle'sgetting in to put on the brakes. He couldevolve no means of stopping the bounc-ing.On the second day he began charging25 cents admission to see the bouncing

car. Soon he had money enough to buyan entirely new automobile, so he sold hisconcession on the old one and left town.At this writing, the old car is still bounc-inga testimonial to the efficacy of rub-ber bumpers. CASE NO. 2Honesty impels a report on anotherrubber plant experiment not quite so suc-cessful. Growing of the rubber plantsinto full sized trees proved relatively easy,and so one scientist had lumber sawedfrom the rubber logs, hoping thereby tomake a distinct contribution to the gov-ernment's campaign for more flexiblehousing.Beams, planks, moulding, wall board,shingles, everything was sawed from therubber tree. Construction proved simplebecause carpenters could easily stretch thetimbers to fit any given space, thus avoid-ing sawing and waste. A test cottage of

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five rooms was constructed and thescientist was living comfortably in it.One day, however, his wife w ent toher bridge club, carelessly leaving thegas stove on, unlighted. W hen she re-turned, the rubber house had been in-flated to three times its normal size andhad floated away.Eventually a woodpecker, naturallymistaking the house for a thing of woodeven though high in the air, pecked ahole in it. This emitted the gas, and thestructure fell on an isolated hillside wherethe ruins may still be seen.CASE NO. 3Scientists in New Mexico this seasonhave successfully crossed sugar cane withlemon trees, to produce a delicious brandof natural-growth lemonade. Followingthis, however, Institute workers alsografted on gourd stalks, so that next yearcarload shipments can begin of gourdsfilled with fresh lemonade already sweet-ened and sealed, saving the cost of manu-facture and canning.CASE NO. 4Naturalists at the Grand Canyon inArizona have achieved a triumph overthis epic of nature . The re, as you mayknow, tourists have long been carried tothe bottom of the mile-deep gorge oncommon, ordinary mules. A persistentproblem has been to make this travelcomfortable and economical, for Canyontrails are narrow and steep. A mule couldcarry only one passenger, moving stifflyand dangerously around sharp turns.

This year, however, naturalists of theD. I. of T. & V. successfully crossed twobiological speciesthe common mule andthe elongated dachshund dog. The resultis an extremely long mule which can car-ry 12 passengers at a time, single file,even around the sharpest curves in thetrail.Furthermore, the canine characteristicwas transmitted also to the hybrid's ears.Thus the new saddle animal has ears al-most as long as its body. The ears aresimply tied back to a post attached to thehindmost saddle to form a natural suncanopy for all 1 2 passengers.CASE NO. 5Professor Marmaduke Wigglesworth,vice-chairman of the Institute of Truthand Veracity (a typical, lovable, absent-minded college faculty man devoted tohis science) personally reported on hisbiological achievements.

By chance his college acquired a settingof wild porcupine eggs (rare indeed).These he placed, as a test, under a com-mon hen, who brooded dutifully. Onemorning the hen found herself suddenlyraised up on stiff quills and has not beenmentally normal since; but Dr. Wiggles-worth raised the baby porcupines byhand, on the desert.

He spent three months training them.After the first week of coaching, theyoung porcupines were able to shoot theirquills, one at a time, and hit a tin can orrifle target 50 feet away. From that itwas easy to teach them to bring downquail, rab bits, squirrels, ducks and othergame. On comm and, they can now shootas many as 10 or 20 quills simultaneous-ly, for a shotgun effect. Eight Mallardducks at one throw was the recordachieved, in desert tests.

Farmers will get relief by using theporcupines to pick ripe apples and such.The little beasts thread up and down theorchard rows, flying from limb to limb,then darting quickly to the shipping bas-kets or crates and discharging the fruitfrom their quills.CASE N O. BScientists have long been worried overthe millions of fertile acres in the West,

too dry to grow crops. They would pro-duce if water could be put on them fromBoulder and Grand Coulee dams, butmost of the acres lie at altitudes half amile or more above the level of the lakes.This year Institute workers solved theproblem. They discovered that westernmountains, being highly mineralized, hadnaturally and normally impregnated thelake waters with iron in solution and intiny particles. They reasoned, also, thatelectricity from the two dams' powerplants was very cheap.Soby the simple process of placingelectro-magnets at the upper ends of irri-gation ditches and canals, the ironizedwater is attracted and caused to flow uphill rapidly, where it can be diverted ontothe fertile farm land.CASE NO. 7The only tragedy of the year amongInstitute workers was suffered by the hor-

The new Grand Canyon Mule

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the catch which let it down and locked it.Then he crawled to the other side of theroom, coiled around the doorknob, stuckhis tail through the keyhole and rattledfor the police. . ,(Other scientists and scholars are in-vited to send in their case reports, ifstrictly true. Mail to the author, in careof this magazine. The author's thanks

already are due Ernest Douglas, RayHow land, Reg Manning, the late WillBarnes, and other source minds, especial-ly in the West.)

P R I Z E Sto amateur photographers

Rattling for the Sheriffticultural division. A D. I. of T. & V.engineer had gone alone into the isolatedmountains to study the scientifically im-portant Petrified Farm. There the treesare petrified, the creek water is glass withpetrified fish motionless in it. Sadly, themule carrying this engineer died fromeating petrified grass, and then the engi-neer himself succumbed from eating pet-rified strawberries.

CASE NO. 8Trappers for the Institute reported anitem worthy of future study, especially

in the climatological division. This oc-curred in California.A bear was caught in a trap. It jerkedits tail off, in escaping from the trap,and the climate there was so ideal thatthe bear promptly grew another tail.More significant, however, is the factthat the tail also promptly grew another

b e a r- CASE NO. 9Herpetologists for the Institute, Drs.Blinkus and Theobald, made new discov-eries anent rattlesnake venom. Doingfield work, Dr. Blinkus struck at a newspecies of rattlesnake with a hoe handle.The snake bit the hoe handle. So potentwas the reptile's poison that the hoe han-dle promptly swelled to the size of a log.Discussing this phenomenon afternightfall, the two scientists carelesslythrew the log on their campfire. It flamedreadily, but a gust of wind blew smokeunexpectedly onto the two men. So po-tent was the poison then in the smokethat Dr. Theobald was quite overcome,and would have died if Dr Blinkus hadnot promptly dragged him to fresh airand safety.

And then the w oodpecker camealong and pecked a hole in it.

C A S N Q . 1QValuable records were preserved forDrs. Blinkus and Theobald by the petrattlesnake kept in their laboratory. Aburglar broke into the laboratory, crawl-ing through an open window in the deadof night. The snake heard the criminal,began rattling. Stricken with fear of theunseen snake, the burglar crouched in acorner.The snakewell-trained by the scien-tistscrawled up to the window, threw

Each month the Desert Magazineoffers prizes of $5-00 and $3-00for the first and second place win-ners in a prize contest for amateurphotographers.All prints must be taken on thedesert and the subjects may includeclose-ups of plant and animal life,unusual personal pictures, deserthomes and gardens, weird rock for-mations and landscapes and scenicshots.Composition, lighting, focus andthe other fine points of photog-raphy are no less important thansubject.Rules governing the contest fol-low:1Pictures submitted in theMay contest must be received at theDesert Magazine office by May 20.2Not more than four printsmay be submitted by one person inone month.3Winners will be required tofurnish either good glossy enlarge-ments or the original negatives ifrequested.4Prints must be in black andwhite, 2 1-4x3 1-4 or larger.5Pictures will be returnedonly when postage is enclosed.For non-prize-winning picturesaccepted for publication $1.00 willbe paid for each print.Winners of the May contest willbe announced and the pictures pub-lished in the July number of themagazine.Address all entries to:CONTEST EDITOR,DESERT MAGAZINE,El Centro, Calif.



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NAVAJO WEAVERS Photograph by W. M. Pennington

T H E " F E E L " O F T H E D E SE R TNAVAJO INDUSTRIESThe culture of sheep andthe weaving of rugsare displayed in this desert

scene, which also reveals much of what is includedin the na tur al life-work of Nav ajo wom en. Tendin gthe flocks of sheep and goats, from early childhood

until marriage; bearing children and rearing them;weaving blankets and rugs from the wool they haveclipped, then exchanging the finished products forfood and clothing, Navajo women seldom find timefor civilized frivolities.

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i i / * ? W A N T to see Navajo life without any frills!" said\J my eastern visitor. And we chose a Tradin g Post farfrom civilization for her first visit to the largest tribeof Indians in the world.Following a map of the far-flung Navajo Reservationspread over 16,000,000 acres we left Holbrook, Arizona, onU. S. 66 and followed it 40 miles east to a little post officeand gas station called Chambers. Turn ing abruptly north thereservation road wound up hill and down through sand andcedars, past dirt covered hogans hidden against shelteringhills. Our road cut through the ancient Indian Ruin, WideRuins, and we stopped to pick up bits of colored pottery thathundreds of years of Arizona weather had not robbed of their

painted designs.A little farther beyond the ruin two Navajo girls weretrudging along in their full calico skirts and velvet blouses.Their hair was drawn back into coarse nets and bright coloredcombs held it in place. Around their shoulders they worestore made blankets. I stopped the car and opened the door.Without a word they entered and seated themselves with thedignity of queens. I drove for miles with out a word fromthem, but when a faint sound of rattling medicine gourds andthe thin falsetto wail of "singers" came to us the girls grewalmost loquacious. "Stop! " they said in chorus, and left uswithout a backward look. They were going to the SquawDance in full swing just around the hill.Forty miles from the main highway we passed through Ga-nado, homestead of Don Lorenzo Hubbell, blood brother of

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"Cozy" McSparron has been an Indian Trad-er at Chin Lee in the heart of the Navajo Reser-vation in northeastern Arizona for 26 years. Forrea l human drama there p robab ly i s no moreinteresting place on earth than a remote trad-ing post . In the accompanying sketch Mrs.White Mountain Smith has revealed both thecomedy and the tragedy which enter into thedai ly life of o ne of the m ost hig hly resp ecte dt raders among the Navajos .

Ttadet atihundetlrizd

By MRS. WHITE MOUNTAIN SMITH

Red Horse, Navajo Chief, who sleeps the long sleep on thesame high hill across the wash, with his white brother.Navajo hogans grew more num erous as we traveled andflocks of sheep and goats straggled across the road. By look-ing closely the little boy or girl shepherds could be seen peep-ing out from some secure hiding place. Proffers of "all-day-suckers" usually lured them from their refuge long enough tograb the candy and then run like scared rabbits.There is a stretch of road which runs through broken bad-lands, gray and red and beautiful in its stark barrenness. Closebeside the trail is a well with heavy logs over the top. A Na-vajo woman was drawing water in a battered bucket to fill thehollowed log which served as a troug h. Thirsty sheep pushedtheir hot noses into the water and drank deep gulps. A sortof pen built of logs set upright close together attracted my at-tention. The Indian woman told me this pen surrounded aspring that was full of snakes and the logs were around it tokeep stock from going there to drink. I'm not sure whetherthe snakes were fenced in, or the sheep fenced out!Noon sun lay hot on Thunderbird Ranch when we droveinto the grove of cottonwoods surrounding the trading postand guest houses. Evidently my friend "Cozy" M cSparronhad taken time out for lunch and left his Navajo customers totheir own devices. One of them was unloadin g a fat lambfrom his wagon and was quite disconcerted to find that it haddied of heat during the seven-mile journey from his hogan.Other Navajos waited with sacks of wool to trade for groceriesand an old woman sat in the shade enjoying a meal of cannedtomatoes which she drank from the can.

Thunderbird Trading Post is at the mouth of historic, andprehistoric, Canyon de Chelly, which is the very heart of theT h e D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Navajo N ation. And its owner, L. H. M cSparron, knownhalf way 'round the world as "Cozy," has been there with theNavajos for the past 26 years. This warm hearted, lovableIrishman is not merely a trader. He is the intimate friend andcounselor of every Navajo in that region. Over the wide doorof the post is carved the Navajo Thunderbird whose wings,flapping, cause the thunder's crash and whose flight amongthe clouds causes the raindrops to fall for the benefit of theIndians.Trading Is an Informal ProcedureWe lunched with the McSparrons in their cool homeyranch house and followed "C ozy" to the trading post. W henthe door was opened the waiting Navajos came inside andseemed in no hurry whatever to begin their bargaining. Wom-en settled themselves on the concrete floor and nursed theirbabies. The men occupied the benches and eyed the shelvesloaded with treasures over which they had gloated dozens oftimes. There were ten gallon hats, chaps and bright sateenshirts and cowboy boots, and quite marvelous wide leatherbelts studded with colored glass.

A plump matron entered with a rug and spread it on thecounter while she waited for "Co zy's" comment. It was herein Chin Lee with the insistence and assistance of Trader Mc-Sparron that the old-time Navajo rug designs and colors wererevived. Kno wing the years of patient work he had given tothis project I wandered over and inspected the rug. It wasmore a blanket than rug, so smooth and soft and flexible itwas. Big enough to cover a bed, it was one of the most beau-tiful pieces of Navajo w eaving I had ever seen. Th e colorswere a harmonious blending of soft yellow and warm brown,with touches of black and rose. The design was quite simpleand followed stripes running across the blanket from side toside, there being no border. It is only in recent years that fig-ured borders have been added to Navajo rugs.

"It is a beautiful blank et," "Cozy" told the weaver. W hilethey agreed upon a price I turned to watch other customers.The owner of the dead lamb approached and talked rapidly inhis native tongue to the trader. Cozy laughed."Clit-tso thinks because the lamb was alive when he startedwith it I should not mind its being dead now. I'll give himthe groceries he came after and he can bring me some piiionsin payment. Maybe they'll get here in better shape!"

Meet a Big-Hearted Pawn KeeperAn old, old withered squaw approached the counter andgazed longingly at the "paw n" goods. Pawn is just thatpersonal property left as a pledge for goods purchased. Silverbelts and bracelets and rings, shell and coral necklaces; handbraided rawhide ropes, sacred medicine baskets, anything andeverything that the trader will lend a few dollars on. W henthe sheep are sheared or the spring lambs sold the Indianscome in and pay their bills and redeem their belongings. If atrader sells anything in pawn h e might as well move out ofthe country without delay. His business is dead.

There was a running fire of Navajo grunts and groans andchoking sounds indulged in by both old lady and trader. Hehunted among the necklaces and gave her one that was strungwith everything from bear claws to turtle shells."She is the only woman 'singer' in this part of the Reserva-tion," h e said. "She wants to hold a healing ceremony over.a woman who has bad dreams and she can't w ork properlywithout this medicine necklace. She'll bring it back to mewhen the sing is over!"Five or six Navajo men entered the store bringing a feelingof tension and discord although not a word had been spoken.

"Cozy" recognized the importance of their visit and greetedeach one by name and gave them cigarettes. One began toM A Y , 1 9 3 8 11


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speak. I slid over as near as possible andlooked and listened. The calm of the Na-vajo Nation certainly was disrupted. Icouldn't understand a word of it but"Cozy" talked awhile and they went outand got on their ponies and rode out ofsight around the hill."Cozy" turned to us. "I have to go upthe Canyon to bury a little girl. You aregoing along. Do you think your friendwould care to go with us?" I noticed hehadn't asked me if I cared to go, and Iwaited for the joker. He was busy col-lecting wearing apparel such as a red cal-ico dress and brown shoes and stockingsand a blue hair ribbon and blue glassbeads."What are you going to do with those

things?" I asked."You are going to put them on the girland I'm going to bury her!"And that was that!It was midafternoon when we reachedthe hogan of Many Goats, father of thedead girl. Already the hogan was inshadow, but when one lives at the bottomof a thousand foot chasm one cannot ex-pect too much sunlight. As we were driv-ing to the hogan "Cozy" told us wh athappened. Many Goats had a ten-year-old girl that herded the sheep while theygrazed in the grassy coves. The ir neigh-

bor, Yellow Singer, owned a burro andthe little girl sometimes rode it after her12

"Cozy" McSparron stops at a Na-vajo hogan to chat with his friends.

sheep. That morn ing when she got onthe burro it threw her and broke herneck. The men involved and some oftheir clansmen came on a twofold errandto "Cozy," their friend. He was to burythe girl, and he was to settle their disputeabout payment for the girl's death. N oNavajo will touch a dead body if the taskcan possibly be turned over to a whiteman. "Cozy" took care of that duty.Said Many Goats: "Yellow Singer'sburro killed my daughter. He must payme well for the girl. She was learning to

weave good like her mother!" But Yel-low Singer demurred: "Seven years agoyour son shot my son as they came fromthe Government School. The gun wasyour gun. My son died. You did notpay me then and a son is worth muchmore than a girl!""Go to the agent and if he doesn't set-tle it for you, call a talk together of yourChapter Council. After all I'm not Solo-mon. I'm just an Indian Trader."We dressed the girl in the bright newgarments, wrapped her in a blanket and

buried her in a sandy place. Rocks werepiled over the grave. Then we went

visiting some of the weavers of native dyerugs."The Navajos have a never failing goldmine in their weaving if they stick to theold-time colors and design," said "Cozy.""W hat we are trying to do up here inCanyon de Chelly is to pay honest pricesfor honest work and encourage the wom-en to weave two or three really goodblankets each year rather than a dozen in-ferior ones.""But, after all, they have to eat whilethey work," I protested, "and if it takesfour months for a big rug the family islikely to go hungry!""W hen a good weaver begins a blanketshe tells me. I go to see if she hascleaned and spun her yarn well, and ifshe has used vegetable and mineral dyes.If she has done that and is making an olddesign I allow her to buy the necessaryfood for her family at the Post and shebrings me the work when it is finished.""But what if she takes it to some othertrader?" our visitor asked."Cozy" gave her a disgusted look: "Say,Navajos are honest until white peopleteach them to cheat!" I murm ured anapology for my tenderfoot friend andventured another question."Why are you an Indian Trader?""Because I like the Navajos and liketo live among them. I was born at Gal-lup (80 miles south) and outside of yearsspent in school at Denver I haven't been



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gone from here long at a time. I cameout here 26 years ago and these peopleare real people. I think a Navajo b lanketis far more interesting and beautiful thanyour imported Persians. Here I can makean honest living for my family and beamong Indians I admire for their courageand independence."We drove along the sandy bottom ofCanyon del Muerto looking up at thestark straight walls of red stone. Tuckedaway in almost every sheltered nook wasa deserted habitation, empty these last sixor eight hun dred years. And in everygrassy cove at the foot of the cliffs, sheepgrazed and smoke curled from a hogan.The long dead Indians have given placeto the very much alive Navajos.

From such a hogan the dwellers wavedand called to "Co-zee!", and we left thecar and went to call on them. It was thehome of Old Gray Horses wife. She per-mitted him to live there with her as longas he was a good In dian. As we nearedthe hogan Old Gray Horse began to runaround in circles, now crouching close tothe groun d, again leaping into the air,and circling once more. My friend hungback debating swift flight to the automo-bile. Personally, I didn 't crowd into theforeground. "Cozy" was quite calm."Yes, yes, Grandfather. I think thatis a good idea. I'll see what can be doneabout it!" Grandfather subsided and ac-cepted a cigarette. "H e wants a coupleof turkeys to catch grasshoppers that areeating his corn crop," said the trader.The two women of the hogan broughttheir spun and dyed yarn to "Cozy" forinspection. He examined it and left somecolor cards with them for their guidance.These exact copies of old rugs, color andall, are made from the best ancient Nava-jo rugs in museums and distributed bypeople interested in keeping Navajoweaving at a high standard.Back in front of the open fire in Thun-derbird Ranch we sat in chairs drapedwith old Navajo rugs. The floor wascovered with rugs of all sizes and designs.Out on the wide veranda couches and

W nrfeM ofUte.

Reg Manning, cartoonist-writerlounging chairs were gay and comfortablewith Navajo weaving. No wonder fa-mous and worth-while people come yearafter year from every corner of our coun-try and even across the sea to rest and va-cation here at Thu nderbird . The guestcabins are decorated with Indian work-manship and if there is a Squaw Danceor a sing within a hundred miles the In-dians tell "Cozy" and he and his friendsare welcome guests.

Navajos drive their wagons into theshade by the Chin Lee Creek and makecamp. Visiting Navajos take charge ofthe guest hogan close to the trading postOld men sit on the bench under thecarved Thunderbird and smoke and talkof the days when Kit Carson penned theirpeople in the Canyon de Chelly and cap-tured many thousands of them. On thesmooth green lawn the trader's two littlegirls play with their Navajo nurse, whiletheir mother works among her flowersand the big collie dog supervises every-thing going on.

And this is the domain of "Cozy" Mc-Sparron, Trader at Thunderbird.

In Canyon delMuerto, heartof the Navajocountry

REG MA NN ING , whose humorous cartoonsappear in this number of Desert Magazine,covered hi s school books wit h crazy carica-tures of his teachers. He left school ten yearsago to join the staff of the Arizona Republicas a news photographer, although he says hedidn't know w hich end of the camera took thepicture. He wanted to draw and his em-ployers finally let a few of his cartoons slipinto print.

In the last tw o years he has led most of thenation's political cartoonists in Literary Digestreprints and his work is reaching a growingaudience through syndicated features. His firstcomplete illustrated book came off the Augus-tin press this month: "Reg Ma nnin g's CartoonGuid e to A rizona." W ithi n a week after it ap-peared in the bookstores 3,000 copies weresold in Phoenix alone, and a rush order wassent to the publishe r for the prin ting of a sec-ond edition. Man ning's full page "Big Pa-rade" in each Sunday's Republic has endearedhim to all Arizonans.He may be found at his drawing board anyhour of day or night in the studio of hisPhoenix homein green eyeshade and bluedenims. He has a tremendous capacity forwork.The Desert Magazine is pleased to welcomeReg Manning to its pages, both because of hisability as an artist, and because his entertain-ing portrayal of desert subjects has been a tre-mendous con tribution to pop ular kno wledge ofthe great desert Southwest.

LON GARRISON, creater of the DesertMagazine's Hard Rock Shorty, is a park rangerin the federal service. Mate rial for the HardRock yarns was obtained during a period whenhe was on duty in Death V alley. Garrison isnow stationed in Yosemite Valley.

CORA L. KEAGLE, whose first DesertMagazine feature appears in this number, re-sides at Pixley, in California's San Joaquin val-ley. Her idea of a perfect weekend is a tripinto the Mojave desert where she may prowlaround at will in the old mining camps or ex-plore out-of-the-way canyons. Between trips,an attractive cactus garden provides desert at-mosphere in her own home yard.

For the information of writers, the DesertMagazine requires a pronounced human inter-est slant in all its features. Ord inarily thelimit for manuscripts is 1500 to 2000 words,occasionally an article is good enough to jus-tify 2500 words, but this is the exception.Writers whose copy has not appeared in themagazine are urged to query the editor, givinga brief outline of the material, before submit-ting. Such inquiries are gladly answered.Although only six months old the DesertMagazine now goes to subscribers in 40

states and six foreign countries. Californiaranks first, Arizona second, and New Yorkstate third in number of subscribers.M A Y , 1 9 3 8 13


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Desert garnets in the rough and pol-ished are shown in the accompan yingpicture. Photo by Eunice Hilton.

-fileW hete IfouTina. I Item

By JOHN W. HILTON

NSURED for $5,000."' Wh en the express man handedme the tiny parcel he called myattention to its declared value. W ithtrembling hands I cut the seals and un-wrapped the contents. Wo uld it be apriceless ruby, or a large spinel or ahitherto unknown gem? These questionsraced through my mind as I removed thefinal wrappi ngs. Mem bers of our staffcrowded close as I brought the gem un-der the bright light of the appraisingroom.There before us lay a large and beauti-fully colored garnet full of flaws. Itwas practically valueless.I had corresponded for weeks w ith theowner of this stone. After many reassur-ances on my part he finally had riskedsend ing it to me for appraisal. His localjeweler had told him it was a ruby of thefinest quality and a stone of great value.Incidents of this kind are not infre-quent in the life of a gem appraiser. The

local watch-maker or self-styled authorityon gems assures his friend that the garnethe has found is a ruby, or the quartzcrystal he has discovered is a diamond .Garnets actually include a considerable-variety of silicates having kindred formu-las, differing in composition and color,but with the same crystallization. Thereare more kinds of garnets than the aver-age person suspects. The ir colors rangefrom deep red to fine rose pink and thevariations include brown, orange, purple,yellow and even green.The range of occurrence of this gem isalmost as varying as its color. Hard andtough, the garnet withstands the batter-ing and grinding of erosion. For thisreason it frequently is found in alluvialdeposits on the deserts.Notable among such deposits arethose in New Mexico where garnets arefound as smooth slightly angular peb-bles. These are of the pyrope varietyand are a fiery shade of red. The ir

shape, size and color suggest the originof the name garnet. The word comesfrom the Latin granatus, having manygrains or seeds, and more directly frompomegranate because of the close resem-blance in color and shape to the seeds ofthis fruit.In certain parts of Arizona and NewMexico there is a common belief thatants mine these little gems and arrangethem in neat rows around the base oftheir hills. It is a fact that many finelittle garnets are found around the anthills. The explanation is simple.Pyrope garnet is a heavy mineral hav-ing a density of about 3.75. This makesit heavier than ordinary gravel. The antsdo not purposely mine garnets. Thegems are removed and brought to thesurface because they obstruct the under-ground tunn els. Because they are heavyand smooth, the garnets naturally slide tothe base of the anthill. Ano ther factorwhich tends to make them conspicuous isContinued on page 35

Almandite garnets in granite. This is the most com-mon type found on the desert. It seldom if ever is ofgem quality.Essonite garnet from the o ld Garnet Queen m ine in theSanta Rosa mountains of Southern California. Not

being worked now.

14 T he D E S E R T MA G A Z I N E


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fiada

HalftoneReproduc t ion

of paint ing by

BONNIE WELCHBrawley, California

/ " ) S A housewife on a desert home-I I stead, combating insects and sand-storms and with none of the com-forts of a modern home, Bonnie Welchhas seen the desert at its worst.And yet, through and beyond the dustclouds and the shimm ering heat waves ofa midsummer day her artist's vision hasalways found the serene beauty of thedesert landscape, and today her canvasesare attracting increased attention amongthose qualified to judge the value of des-ert portrayals.Prospectors following the canyons inthe arid region of Southern California oc-casionally come upon a lone artist work-ing with paint and brush in places so re-mote as to be regarded as inaccessible bythe ordinary motorist. That is where Mrs.Welch does her finest work. W ith Mr.Welch as a companion she loads hersleeping bag in a sturdy car and goes outin quest of new subjects. When she findsthe picture she wants she camps on thespotstudying and working until shehas recorded her impression on canvas.Generally these places are far off the reg-ular highway.Mrs. Welch spent her girlhood inWas hington, D. C. She attended schoolthere and was a student in the classes at

i5 4jet W otksltop.By LARRY D. WOLMAN

the Corcoran Art Galleries. Later shecame west and after a brief residence inBrawley, California, moved with her hus-band to a homestead on the virgin desertnear the Salton Sea in 1915.Keeping house in a tent when it wasnecessary to haul drinking water formiles, and caring for her family did notpermit much time for art work duringthose first few years on the desert.But Mrs. Welch never lost interest inher painting. Wh en the opportunitycame, she went to Santa Barbara for sev-eral months to study under Kabaley. Inrecent years she has been able to devoteher time almost entirely to the work sheloves. Part of each week is given to adultclasses in art, and the remaining timefinds her somewhere out on the desertworking at her easel. As an open studio,the desert sometimes has its disadvan-tages. Sudden gusts of wind may fill thefresh pain t with sand. Insects seem tohave a special liking for the artist's pig-ment. And there are days when the glareof the sun makes it necessary to keepshifting the beach umbrella which pro-vides shade. But these are not seriousobstacles to a woman who finds complete

happiness in the creative art of painting.Durin g the last three years Mrs. Welch

has been spending part of her wintermonths at a studio in Palm Springs,where she has found a profitable marketfor certain types of work.She has developed a special techniqueof her own for colorful miniatures of thedesert, done in oil on parchment. Thereis widespread demand for these minia-tures and there have been times when theorders came faster than she could producethem. She will not give all her time tothese parchment paintings because sheprefers to work on canvas. It is in theselarger portrayals that her long and inti-mate association with the desert findsmost accurate expression.Once each year her paintings are ex-hibited at Brawley under the sponsorshipof the El Centro chapter of NationalLeague of American Pen Women. Mrs.Welch's canvases have seldom appearedin the commercial exhibits in the recog-nized art centers. The reason is thatorders for her work come regularly to herdoor.She has lived through all the moods ofa desert whose greatest fascination is itsever-changing aspects. It is both herhome and her workshop, and her work isoutstanding because she loves the land-scapes which she paints.

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Not all the wom e n in thehell-roarin ' days of the oldweste rn mining camps werepainted girls of the dance ha l l as the fiction writers wouldlead us to believe. There werealso some fine intelligent wivesand mothers who faced theha rds h i p s of a lawless frontierwith no less courage than theirmen. Such a charac te r is Mrs.Laura King who went to theCalico Silver camp on the Mo-jave desert in the '80s an d ha sspent the most of her life there.Here is the story of one of theREAL women of the West .

M othet

OU should have come over thatroad in an ore wagon behindsix horses," laughed Mrs. LauraKing, oldest inhabitant of the"ghost" mining town of Calico, Califor-nia, when we spoke of the ride up the hillfrom Barstow near by on the Mojavedesert. "That was the way we took ourpleasure rides 50 years ago. I rememberone especially. That was the day we allwent down to the picnic at Fishponds todedicate the new irrigation canal to theVan Dyke ranch. We had a good time,too."

First mention of Mrs. King, who wentto Calico during the height of the silvermining activities in the '80s, hadbroughtto my mind the image of a weather-beaten mountain woman with perhaps apinch of snuff in her apron pocket. In-stead, sheproved to be the "lavender andold lace" type with a soft southern voicereminiscent of her Texas ancestry. Her

brown eyes sparkled as she told us talesof her early days in Calico.The cottage where shelives with a de-voted son and daughter, faces the sunsetacross the precipitous brink of WallStreet canyon. In the living room arerareold photographs, sketches and paintingsof historical persons andplaces. A glassfronted case holds a valuable collection ofores and on the book shelves are auto-graphed volumes bywriters of the desert.Among these are the names of W. P.Bartlett andEarl Derr Biggers.

Mrs. King told us something of theearly history of Calico. She knows thestory well for the major part of her life-time has been spent among the colorfulhills of Calico.For 30 years after Jedediah Smith camethrough Cajon Pass, opening up an over-land route, traders, trappers and minerspassed along thefoot of theCalico moun-tains on their way to LosAngeles, ad-

ownBy CORA L. KEAGLE

Photo by F, V. Sampson, Barstowmired their beauty and passed on theirway, for no one but a greenhorn wouldlook for precious metals in volcanic rock.Mother Nature must have smiled toherself when sheplanted all that silver inunsuspected volcanic rock, preparing forthe great treasure hunt which lasted sevenyears or more.One of these travelers, admiring thevivid coloring, the red of volcanic rock,the cream and chocolate of the clays andthe great gashes of blue andpurple shad-ows where the canyons cut across, re-marked, "They are as purty as a piece ofCalico." Andwhat could be more beau-tiful than gay calico print, symbol ofmissing feminine companionship. And sothey were named. Later when the onlynewspaper wasissued it bore the appro-priate name, "Calico Print."A silver mine discovered near Barstowsent prospectors scurrying into the near-by hills. Thefirst strike was made at the

16 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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head of Wall Street canyon by John C.McBride, an Irishman, and a Portuguesenamed Lowery Sylva. This name is oftenincorrectly given as Lowery "Silver." Themine, for sentimental reasons was chris-tened the "Sue" but after it passed intoother hands became known as the"Sioux."With this discovery the rush began.

Rich deposits were found also in Bis-mark, Occidental and Odessa Canyons tothe east. This new region was called EastCalico.In a short time there were hu ndreds ofminers honey-combing the hills. This wasthe poor man's opportunity to mine, forthe deposits were shallow and as the ore-could be sent down chutes by gravity noexpensive machinery was required. Therewas never a hoist in the mines.At first it was a man's country only,for no trees grew on the red hillsides andthere was no lumber with which to buildhouses.Of her personal history Mrs. King says,"My husband joined the stampede in1884. W e left our Los Angeles homeand I took my four children for a visitwith relatives at Azusa while Georgewent ahead to get a house. There arelimits to the pleasure of visiting indefi-nitely w ith four small children so I wroteGeorge to get a house if he had to buildit of brush . Back came the answer, 'Butthere is no brush.' However a new lum-ber yard at Daggett solved the problemand a house was built just across thegulch from the Bismark mine where my

husband was employed. Later we bought

this mine from John M. Daggett, forwhom the town of Daggett was namedand who w as afterward lieutenant-gover-nor of California."Life in the new home was busy. Inter-esting people and events compensated forthe hardships. In addition to caring forher family Mrs. King boarded the menwho worked in her husband's mine, didtheir mending and mothered them in

many ways. There were no Indians. Thedomestic help was Chinese. She saw twofuture governors, Waterman and Mark-ham, make fortunes.Discovered a Mine by AccidentShe tells with a chuckle of the day shediscovered a mine. "I was sitting on alog with my husband and reached downto pick up a piece of bark. Und er it wasa piece of ore that proved to be the out-cropping of a rich mine. So you see I ama real miner."Mr. King died in 1887 and Mrs. Kingmade trips "outside" to put her childrenin high school at Pomona. On one ofthese visits an attack of pneumonia lefther lungs in a serious condition. She saysthe desert air of Calico cured her and thatshe will never again leave.Looking from her front window she-can see across Wall Street canyon to thehillside, pitted and gashed with the re-mains of entrance tunnels made back inthe days when over $60,000,000 in silverore was shipped ou t. At the foot of thehill is the stone barricade where Johnny-Behind-the-Rock lived. H is signature wasJ. Mackay but he was considered a bit

"daffy" because he talked to himself andThis copy of a rare old photograph shoivs Calico in the days when millionsof dollars in silver were being taken from the colorful hills of that area. Theoriginal of this print teas torn and the lines show where it w as patched.

to the rocks and dug aimless trails andtunnels over the hillside.A little to the right are the ruins of theold post office from which "Dorsey," themail-carrying dog, started on his route.At the left stand the w alls of the adobesaloon where a card shark died of "leadpoisoning," when he was found cheatingat cards.Farther to the left, at the foot of thehill, the old cemetery speaks silently ofthose who once made history. Here thesurface of the ground is cheerful withpebbles of blue, green, red and white,like a great warm quilt designed fromtiny scraps of gay print, its pattern brokenonly by the heaps of stones and woodenhead boards that mark the graves. Epi-taphs in black paint stand out in high re-lief, the soft wood having been deeplyetched away by wh irling, sand - ladenwinds. Wh at an advertisement for thepreserving virtues of somebody's paint!After seven fortune making years the

upper reaches of the mines were ex-hausted and expensive machinery wouldhave been required for deep work. Then,suddenly, the price of silver dropped towhere this expense was prohibitive andalmost as suddenly the mines were de-serted.Mrs. King and her family believe thereis still a fortune in silver down underthose twisted masses of rock and clay andthat when the price is right the ghosttown will come to life again. It would bea kind turn of fate if its reincarnationshould come about while those whohelped make its history may still reap areward. But whether a new strike ismade or not, Mrs. King will still cling toher sunny philosophy "All's right withthe world."

M A Y , 1 9 3 8 17


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Prize winning pictures in the recentcontest sponsored by Palm Springs As-sociates are presented on these twopa ge s. Judges were Charles Kerlee,nationally-known commercial photog-rapher; Ralph Braddock, Los AngelesTimes rotogravure editor, and RobertFreem an, advertising art director. Printswere obtained through the courtesy ofJ. R. Osherenko.PEACH BLOSSOM . . .Awarded a prize by popular vote

of visitors at the contest gallery.This picture was taken six inchesfrom the blossoms by Bill Smith,swimming coach at Palm Springs.PALM CANYON . . .One of the prize winning picturesin the professional division, thispicture taken by Chuck Abbott,cowboy host and photographer forthe Desert Inn.BOEING BOMBER . . .First prize winner in action and

candid division, taken by WilliamSchiller, Palm Springs guest.18


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i\

P e c f o aCharacter study of 113-year-old member of theAgua Caliente Mission band of Indians at PalmSprings.

M A Y , 1 9 3 8

This prize winning picture in the professionaldivision was taken by Frank Bogert, publicitydirector for El Mirador hotel at Palm Springs.19


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'T/ie O'3tlen5"Palo l/etde Skack

By RANDALL HENDERSON/ I /H E N the winter snows begin to\A/ fly, Mr. and Mrs. John J. O'Brien,like many of their neighbors in thepalatial Grosse Point suburb of Detroit,Michigan, begin packing to go to a warm-er climate.A majority of the neighbors go to

Florida. But the O'Briens start west.Their destination is a certain little three-room shack perched on the bank of asandy arroyo at the foot of the CargoMuchacho mountains in the desert ofSouthern California.And instead of spending their wintermonths in the unproductive pursuits ofde luxe vacationists, the O'Briens are su-pervising the operation of a mine whichperhaps" some day w ill be a paying invest-ment, but in the meantime is providingsteady employment for 110 mining em-ployes and a comfortable livelihood formore than 300 persons.These mine owners from Detroit, John

J. and Louise O 'Brien, are interestingpeople. Not because they are wealthy andhave access to Detroit's most fashionablesociety. But because they have found theirgreatest happiness in the simple life of aremote little mining camp on a desertwhich pampered human beings generallyregard as the ante-room to hades.Every morning large coveys of quailcome in from the desert to find grain thathas been left for them inside the Ocotillohedge which surrounds the O'Brien's"Palo Verde shack." And when the birdshave eaten their fill and taken a drinkfrom a little fountain in the rocks, thesquirrels come for their daily handout.

But while Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien arewinning the confidence of the birds andanimals which share their 500-acre min-ing property, they are also earning the re-spect and friendship of a growing com-munity of human beingsthe employesand their families who live in the newly

Mr. and Mrs. John J. O'Brien of Detroitare not sure yet whether their mine wil lbe a profi table investm ent but in themeantime these folks from the big cityhave found the dese r t pays b ig d iv idendsin freedom and contentment. And so theyspend as many months a s poss ib le eachyear at a little cabin near their ore shaftin the Cargo Muchacho mounta ins ofSouthern California .created town of Ob regon and work in themine.It was this mining project which firstbrought the Detroit couple to the desert.John J. he is "Cap" to his friendsformerly was a newspaper man. Du ringthe war he served as a major in the aircorps. He is a man with wide experiencein many fields, and while he does notcall himself an engineer he has had tech-nical experience in both mining and bigscale ranching.

Mrs. O'Brien has played a leading rolefor many years in civic and social welfareactivities in Detroit. She comes from afamily of successful business executives,and many fine civic achievements in De-troit are credited to her industry and abil-ity. She has not forsaken her city respon-sibilities, but she has found new oppor-tunities for creative work during her win-ter vacations on the desert.Four years ago these mid-westerners

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became interested in the old AmericanGirl and other mining properties in theCargo Muchachos, five miles from Ogil-by in eastern Imperial county. The prop-erty had been worked extensively a halfcentury ago. Some high grade ore wastaken out during that early period ofoperation, but when the richest veins wereworked out the owners discontinued oper-ations and the original mill was dis-mantled.Old mine surveys and exploration rec-ords, however, disclosed large bodies ofcomparatively low grade ore which couldbe mined and milled profitably only bythe expenditure of large capital.Engineers made a favorable report onthe property, and the O'Briens purchasedthe American Girl along with several un-patented claims in the same area. Stockpromoters tried to induce Mr. O'Brien toform a company and put shares on themarket but he and Mrs. O'Brien have re-fused to do this."It is a gamble," he said. "We believewe have a property which eventually willprove to be a paying investment. But nomining property, until it is fully devel-oped, is a sure thing and we do not wishto take the responsibility of gamblingwith the money of other people."A 150-ton flotation mill has beenerected and the property is now in fulloperation with two shifts working daily.It is not paying its way yet, but in themeantime the owners are finding somecompensation for their losses in thethought that they are providing steadyemployment for the largest camp of mineworkers in the Colorado desert area.

Next to the operation of the mine, themost interesting problem to the ownershas been the development of a little com-munity of homes for the employes andtheir families.The visitor who arrives at Obregon forthe first time is impressed with the ap-pearance of the camp. Small miningcamps are notoriously ill-planned andslovenly in appearance. But here is a com-munity of 50 or more houses, spread out

in a rock arroyo, where cabins are painted,yards and streets are marked with orderlyrows of rocks, and there is evidence inevery direction that company and workersare cooperating in an effort to keep thecamp clean and make living conditionsattractive.When county school authorities ruledthat they could not spare funds for theerection of a school building the O'Briensbuilt it with their own money. The coun-ty, however, has provided a teacher forthe 30 or 40 children of the mine work-ers.Pioneering in a desert mining campwith no paved streets or servants or storeswas a new experience for Mrs. O'Brien.

Allen McDonald, veteran of themines, sharpens drill bits for themen ivho work down below an dtakes pride in d oing a good job of it.

All her life she had been accustomed tothe conveniences of a modern city. Butafter her first visit to the property, andbefore it offered as many comforts as itdoes today, she fell in love with the des-ert. It was her suggestion that a littlecabin be built where she could spend asmuch time as possible close to the mine"The only thing I knew how to cookwhen I came out here was scrambledeggs," she said. "I had planned to learncooking before I came, but kept putting

it off until the day before we were toleave Detroit when I called my cook up-stairs and told her, 'Now, Anna, tell mehow to cook.'"I conquered coffee in a percolator,and if I do say it, I can make the bestcream of wheat I have ever eaten. I al-ways give it a tremendous stirring just be-fore serving."One night I tried macaroniusing acombination of two recipes. I almost lostmy mind, and had the kitchen litteredwith dishes and pans. Not because I usedtoo much macaroni, but because there areso many things to do to it. The resultwas worth the effort, however. I thoughtI had reached the ultimate when I servedfresh asparagus cut up in cream as afriend of mine had made it."The American Girl produces gold orewhich assays from $5.00 to $12.00 a ton.There is also some copper, enough to payfor the smelting charges, and a trace of

silver. The ore is broken up and concen-trated at the mill, and shipped to Su-perior, Arizona, for the final processing.The O'Briens give much credit fortheir smooth-working organization toW. D. McMillan, superintendent of themine. He is a graduate mining engineerwith an unusually wide range of experi-ence in Africa and Europe as well as theUnited States.The Cargo Muchachos have played animportant part in the mining history ofthe Southwest. Millions of dollars ingold was taken from the old Tumco mine

Continued on page 33

Miners who operated the American Girl nearly a half century ago could not bebothered with ore which assa yed less than $10 a ton. But with modern equip-ment the O'Briens are handling $4.00 rock profitably.M A Y , 1 9 3 ; 21


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mr m

M u

CREED OF THE DESERTB Y J U N E LI- MERT P A X T O N

When Mr. Road-runner was outtoday.He met old man Turtle ploddingthis way.With a smile so pleasant and man-ner so gay.Says Mr. Road-runner to Turtle. "I/>rayYour happy secret you will con-vey.""Cheerful work and sunshine:Rest, ivith no strife-"This is the secret of the I mile'slong life.

By E. A. Brininstool

IF ALL THAT GLITTERSBy Lois Elder Steiner

If all the gold in all the hillsWould glisten in the sun.

Do you suppose there'd be enoughFor everyone?

Do you suppose we'd want to shareOr leave one piece behind?

And if our friends got more than we,Do you suppose we'd mind?

I'm in my desert fastnessthe silent, paintedland,

Where sunrise glories thrill me, and where,across the sand,

Gleam splendors which no painter but GodHimself can show

In changing lights and shadows, spilled by thesunset's glow.

Across the wide arroyos the broken buttes risehigh,

And far beyond, the mountains, whose whitecrests pierce the sky.

The wine-like air brings to me the desertsmells I love

The scent of sage and greasewood from mesa-lands above.

DESERT'S RECOMPENSEBy Hazel Goff

The Spirit of Spring walks the desertAnd showers with a generous handGarlands of earth's brightest flowersTo sweeten the pale barren land.Azure and purple and carmine,The desert's gay blankets unfold,And ripple in breath-taking beauty

O'er dunes which have lain bare and cold.As though for the summer's hot crispness,And winter's chill winds to atone,The Spirit of Spring gives the desertIts moment of beautyfull-blown.How the unfruitful sands come to blossomIn lovelinessonly God knows;But in Spring for a brief thrilling heartbeat,

The desert does "bloom as the rose!"

I'm in my desert fastnessa barren solitude!No city noises clanging outside my cabin rude.Only the gentle breezes across the sagebrush

floor,In low-crooned, soothing rhythm, drift idly

past my door.Oh, glorious desert country, your magic spell

I know!Your lure is strong, resistless, when from your

depths I go!Your wild wastes call and beckon in accents

glad and true,And your calm stretches soothe me when I re-

turn to you!

"HELL-TOOTER" ANNIEBy D. Maitland BushbySix feet, and straighter than a Navajo,

She towers among the modern women here.Her gypsy garb and golden spangled earAccentuate her leathered neck to showThe years; but age will never dim the glowOf her warm heart though she has known the

fearThat comes with war cries heard at night. The

cheerShe brings is good for any man to know.No one can doubt these things of her and yetThere are some foolish ones who show sur-

priseAt her full-blooded oaths that brightly jetInto the quiet air to spark her eyes.Today seems hers with yesterday forgot,But twitching hands betray what eyes do not.

AFTER SUNSETBy Ruth E. Willis

Here on the desert I often watchThe mountains change in hue;From a sunset tinted afterglowTo one of midnight blue.They gather the dusk about them.Each soft, dark velvet fold,And slumber at peace in the silenceThrough the deepening twilight in boldSilhouette against a star-set sky . . .We scale the top of each dreaming peakIn awemy soul and I.

PALO VERDES

By Irma P. ForsytheYou are so lovelyPalo Verde trees when springHas draped your limbsIn golden robes that waftLike butterflies on wing.You are as happy laughing girlsIn gowns of soft chiffonWho dance thru mellow moonlit nightsAnd gaily greet the dawn.

THE DESERT GOES TO REST

By Jeff WorthThere's a purple haze o'er the distant hills,And a golden glow in the west,The moon hangs low in the eastern sky

As the desert goes to rest.As night comes on with swift advance,

And the evening star shines bright,A coyote howls, and a night bird cries,While an owl sets forth in flight.

There's a mystic hush o'er the silent plain,As the mantle of night is spread;A tranquil pauseand the day is doneAnd the stars are bright overhead.

22 The DESERT MAGAZINE


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an Oldfltmu Canteenbut the Bolsius trio, Pete, Nan and Charles have sal-vaged the 'dobe walls and turned it into a home thatradiates charm and hospitality. This is the story of threewesterners who have had a lot of fun doing a tough job.

By J. WILSON McKENNEY^ YEAR S ago the Bolsius/ family, brothers Pete and Charlesand Pete's wife Nan, "discovered"the abandoned canteen built in 1873near Fort Lowell, seven miles north-east of Tucson, Arizona.What to others was a quaint butworthless ruin was to them a fairycastle, a long cherished dream materi-alized before their eyes. Their visionbegan to take form as they scratchedtheir first plans in the desert dust,chattering excitedly of the things theywanted to do to transform this old

building . Here was their Par adis e: asmiling Arizona sun; the green andbrown tints of the river bottoms near-by shading into the hazy purples of theCatalinas; 65-year-old walls rich inhistory.But first they must purchase theprop erty. During six months of nego-tiations, they camped in a nearby shack.Nan cooked on an improvised adobecamp stove out-of-doors. Curiou sMexican neighbors came up on horse-back, peered into the steaming kettles,

Resting from their self-imposedtoil, Nan and Pete examine theDesert Magazine while Charlespuffs a cigarette- Nan carved byhand the corbels wider the raftersand the panels of the great doors.One of Charles' paintings hangs onthe wall. This is a view of thelarge living room.rode away silently shaking their heads.These people must be muy loco.So sure were Pete and Charles andNan that they could express their crea-tive artistry in these adobe walls, theybought ten thousand board feet of tiesand bridge planks from an abandonedrailway 35 miles away and hauled it tothe property before the deed was signed.When the formal transfer was made,they bent to their task.

As they worked they drew from theirneighbors the story of the fort and thecanteen. They found interesting notesin old manuscripts at Tucson, copieddown names and dates. They learnedthat the first army troops were gar-risoned at Tucson in 1862, the year af-ter the outbreak of the Civil War, andremained there during the war. In1866 a permanent military post was es-tablished and named Camp Lowell afterBrig.-Gen. Charles R. Lowell of theSixth Cavalry.

The story goes that the soldiers atthe post were too frequently enamoredof the Mexican senoritas. To escapethe wrath of a citizen's vigilance com-mittee, the commanding officer orderedthe Bluecoats to march into the desert.Seven miles out he ordered them to digin. So in October, 1873, Fort Lowellwas built on a tributary slope of theSanta Cruz river.

Fred Austin, saloon keeper, had tobuild his canteen a quarter mile fromthe outer wall of the fort. It was com-pleted about the time the fort was readyto occupy. The fort is now complete-ly in ruins, only fragmentary wallsshowing where buildings once stood.But only roof, doors, and windows weregone from the canteen when the Bolsiustrio arrived in 1934.A. P. (Pete) Bolsius came from hisancestral home in Holland in 1920, met,wooed, and married Nan, a sturdy Iowafarm gir l. Nan has the eyes of adreamer, the brow of a poet, and theenergy of a successful business woman.Pete is a good mixer, even-tempered,hard-working, a good provider.Brother Charles, regarded by the in-dustrious Bolsius clan as a ne'er-do-well artist, came to America in 1930and lived a life of ease with Pete and

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Nan in New Mexico. He had been edu-cated to a life of leisure and had re-ceived a thorough training in art, buthad given no indication that he wouldsucceed the illustrious V an Gogh. Forthree years he dabbed with paints, re-cording southwestern landscapes oncanvas, but disdaining to soil his handswith hard labor.When the three found their dreamhouse, Pete was unanimously electedbreadw inner. He continued to makegood as a traveling salesman, "bringinghome the baco n" on weekends. Thenhe wouid relax by stripping down toshorts and tussling with 'dobes andtimbers.

Charles manfully took his baptism oflabor in 'dobe mud. He salvaged oldbricks from nearby fallen buildings andfitted them into the broken sections ofthe old canteen walls. Without knowl-edge of construction technique, his senseof artistry guided him. He built orrebuilt fireplaces in seven rooms, pat-terning them after the bowed A styleshe had seen in old missions andchurches of the southwest. He mouldedwalls to leave well-placed nichos forNa n's wooden saints. Persistenc e over-came inexp erience . He reset the firstwindow casing seven times before hewas satisfied.

The task was prodigious but the threeseemed never to be disma yed. Theymade no elaborate plans in advance buteach morning at breakfast they dis-cussed the work to be done during theday. They frequently traced their plansin the dust with a twig. Always thethree agreed on a step before it wasattemp ted. If one dissented, a com-promise was adopted.Finally they removed the debris ofthe fallen roof and raised the walls tothe desire d 14-foot level. They wereready in June, 1935, to raise the 16ponderous timbers which were to span

the living room.Neighboring Mexican folk hadwatched the work with growing inter-est. Called on for timber-ra ising, theyturned out en masse for a gala holidayof work. Two dozen men lent theirhardened muscles to the task, lifted theRear view of ancient Fort Lowellcanteen as it was when the Bolsiusfamily first saw it in 1934. Doorsand windows were gone, roofcaved in, walls in bad repair. Atright is the old fort as it appearstoday after three years of recon-structive work and planning.

great beams into place and laid theplanks on the roof.In token of their appreciation, theBolsius family were hosts to 40 happyMexicans on the following Christmaseve. Boys brought guitars and girlswore bright dresses. Old walls rangwith gay songs and new rafters vibratedto the rhythm of dancing feet.Set next to the wall under each rafterend, massive wood corbels were placed.Nan had carved the 32 pieces herself,using a cheap saw and chisel. She

discovered a talent for wood carving,creating intricate but harmonious de-signs in the 20 panels of the great doorsin the living room, cutting pedestalsand plaques and furniture, and whit-tling in her spare time at woodenstatuettes for the nichos.The living room is the old zaguan

or courtyard, originally open at eachend with a large arched gateway. Twodoors, each four by nine feet, closeone opening and a large paneled win-dow seals the norther n end. Walls and

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fireplace are an unbroken w hite. Asthe sun goes down Pete and Charles,smoking quietly, sit before the fireplaceand watch the changing purple hueson the Santa Catalina mountains, whileNan lights tapers under the bas-relieffigure of the Virgin of Guadalupe.Every detail of the room suggests peaceand restfulness.The living room is 14 by 36 feet.Charles' studio, well-lighted and simplyfurnis hed, is 20 by 22 feet. It andthe 20 by 13 foot dining room wereformerly living quarters of the saloonkeep er's family . Pete's office-studio, 20by 15 feet, was formerly the gamblinghall. Adjoining it is the bedroom , 20by 20 feet, which was the saloon properin the old days. The low west wingcompletes the 113-foot front elevation,housing the kitchen and Nan's writingden. Across the front of the house is

a wooden arcade. Native palo verdeand Arizona ash shade the walls.Original floors were hard packed claybut they are now of cement, the onlyconstruction job with the exception ofthe timber-raising not done by the in-dustrious trio.Linseed oil, whiting, and "elbowgrease" were liberally applied to all oldwood used in the interior. Cracks andblemishes in the wood are not hidden.The finish looks like old walnut.After three years of work, Charlesand Nan say there is still much to bedone before they will be content. Theyexpect to build a bathroom next, anarched, tiled, modern creation. Thenthey have places for a carpenter shopand a guest apartment.A job already half finished is themaking from rough lumber of a com-plete set of furniture for the home. Themassive dining table, which will ac-commodate 12 guests, has been set inplace. Charles is now fashioning amodel for 12 chairs for the dining

room. He has completed a master bedand low-boy from railroad timbers,patiently fitting small pieces of woodin place. Nan has some early Ameri-can furniture which was brought over-land to Iowa in 1843. They are proudof the Queen Anne chair, dated 1704, arelic of Holland.Nan received a guest book for Christ-mas. She takes the names of visitorsand the list is growing daily. NovelistThornton Wilder came once and saidhe would be back. The Tucson Woman's

Club will hold a silver tea in the homenext week and the daughter of Fort

Artist Charles handles the malletwhile Wood-Carver Nan assists.Bread-winner Pete looks on in ap-proval. All the furniture for thehome is b eing made in a smallshop, which was the original shackin -which the Bolsius trio livedwhile the ruins were being recon-structed

Lowell's first surgeon will play theharp.Restoration of Fort Lowell as a statepark is increasing the list of visitors.Although the 40-acre area was set asidenine years ago, only now an effort isbeing made to preserve and restore itas a historic monument.On a slab of pine Nan has carvedthe words "Las Saetes" and below thelegend is a clenched fist holding threearrows. In English the words mean"The Arrow s." The symbol is an adap-tation of the 16th century Dutch crestof the Bolsius family. Henceforth La sSaetes will be the name of the home.Only the spirit of dogged determinationand ingenuity remains of the Hollandancestry; here has grown from thedecay of American frontier days avital and beautiful creation, a homeradiating the charm of true westernhospitality.

GOING . . GOING . .almost goneYou may still get the first sixeditions of the Desert Magazineand apply them on your year'ssubscription . . . hut you mustact at once, for these preciousfirst copies are going fast.Year subscription, November 1937to October 1938 is $2.50. Sendyour check today to

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M A Y , 1 9 3 25


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50 M I L E S E A S T OF I N D I O

DESERT PLACE NAMES. . .Compiled by TRACY M. SCOTT . . .

Fo r the historical data contained in this department, TheDesert Magazine is indebtedto the research work done by Miss Scott; to Will C. Barnes, author of "Arizona PlaceN a m e s " ; toFrances Rosser Brown's contributions to"New Mexico" magazine, and tcother sources . . . . . . . . . . .ARIZONA M O H A V E C O U N T Y

In northwest corner of state along Colo-r a ( j 0 r i v e r O n e of , i i e four o n g ; n a l coun-t ; e s -j n i n c | ; m i w o r ( j meaning 'threemountains' from proximity to Needles ."Hodge. Barnes says the Howell code origin-a ] ] y s p e lled this word "Mojave." but ac-cording to authorities of that clay "due toanignorant clerk" legislative enactment creat-; n g t j , e c o u n t y s e a t spelled it "Mohave."

CARRISO (kar-ree'-so) San Diego county.spectacular 11-mile canyon between san. , . , M U M J IDiego and Impe rial valley. Railroad Skirtsh s s i d e a b o u t 1 ( ) 0 0 f e t f m m b ( ) t t ( ) m ofc a n y ( ) n a n d ( ) n ] y $]igMy | e s s t h ; l n d jsw n c e {mm^ F o s s j l sQ[( ) C a n C ( ) r a ] s n e a t e n d()fg M g em e a n s at a H g r a s s u s e d b y I n d j a n sfabas_ketry and a,S() Qproduce kindof sugar.

B IG DRY W AS H Coconino county .Scene ofthe last fight between U. Stroops and Apaches in Arizona. Lieut.-Col.A . W. Evans, 3rd Cavalry commanding offi-cer, called it the "Batt le of the Big DryW a s h " in his official report. "The fight wasJuly 17, 1882. Indians were White moun-tain Apaches under Na-ti-a-tish. We foundonly 22 dead bodies. Icounted them my-self next day for the official record.Let-te r Gen. Thomas Cruse. Itwas really onEast Clear creek.HARRIS MO UN TA IN Cochise coun ty.On east side ofChincahua mountains athead ofTurkey creek about four miles

north of Paradise. A lot of treasure, dia-monds, etc., was taken from Mexicans byZwing Hun t and others and buried here,according toNoble. "Buried here in thiscanyon, according to the story, is the pillageof many robberies inOld Mexico and the R E N O ( r e e ' n 0 ) Washoe county.southwest. The value of $3,000,000 was N a m e d a f t e r G e n - M a r c u s R e n o - Cic Vplaced on it by the dying outlaw supposed f o u n d e d C e m r a l P a c l f ' c r a ' 1 , r o a d com Pa'^, , . , ,, , in1869. Nam e means literally reinde er. 'to have taken part inthe robberies and . ., . , ,, ,, Sp. pronunciation ray no.burial oloot. Tiicrliraji t i , i \T-MTUS CARORA (tus cah ro rah) Elko county.Mountains and town. A tribe ofNor thAmerican Indians who first lived inNorthCarolina (17 11 ). W ord means "hemp gath-erers." Town founded September 1867.

M A R C H R E P O R T F R O M UTAHU . S. BUREAU AT P H O E N I X B e _ . T 4 x r r c , , , , ,T e m p e r a t u r e s - D e gr ee s ^ S C A L A N T E (es cah lahn' tay) Iron county.Mean for month 594 , . 1 ? w n , , a n d 7" e >' A L l t a l l V " ^ H n g orNormal for March 607climbing aslope Also Sp. surname. Fe-High onMarch 24. . 840l i p e E s c a W was leader of exploration par-T T,, ,, " , , ty, November 1580.Lowest on March 31 36.0 . ' ' . , . , . ... ... , . .

R a i n _ _ MT. L I N N A E U S (h n e e ' u s ) San Juan county.'Total for month 089T . E W - " l ^ f ? '" T*f C a r o l u sNormal for March.. 0 68 L l l l n s (Karl von L.nne ) famous botan-A X , e a t h e r ist and naturalis t (1707-1778).Days clear 11 NEW MEXICODays partly cloudy 13EL H U E R F A N I T O (el 00 erfah nee' to)Days cloudy 7 San Juan county.W . B. HARE , Meteorologis t . Mountain . Sp. literally "little orphan;"F R O M Y U M A B U R E A U o n e w n 0 stands alone; a lonely one.Tempera ture s Degrees MO GOL LON (mo gol ly one')Mean formonth 622 Catron county.Norma l for March 641 Mountains and town. Means literally "aH i g h on March 24 860hanger-on, aparasite" and isalso SpanishLowest on March 31 40.0surname as well as name of one ofthe Apa-R A I N che tribes.Total formonth., 0.61 TRAMPEROS CREEK (trahm pay 'er os)69-year average for March 034 Union county.Wea the r Sp. "Cheaters; swindlers; trappers for theDays clear 19 unwary." May refer to quicksands or to theDays partly cloudy 8 unreliability ofthe natives.Days cloudy 4 . ^ _ ^ _ _ ^ _ _ ^ _ _Sunshine 85 % (317

193805 desert magazine 1938 may

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