195308 desertmagazine 1953 august

8/14/2019 195308 DesertMagazine 1953 August

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A F I E L D G U I D E TO R O C K S AN D M I N E R A L SBy FREDERICK H. POUGH, Curator of Minerals, American Museum of Natural History

YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BOOKCon-tains 234 photographs, 72 in full color, and a simplifiedField Guide to identification. Eve ry m ineral the Rock-honnd is likely to encounter is described in detail. Thisis the most important new book that has ever beenprinted for the rockhoun d and gem hu nter. This book

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O U R S TO R E IS O P E N EVER Y D A Y 8 : 3 0 A . M . UN T I L 5 : 0 0 P .M . C L O S ED A L L D A Y S U N D A YP H O N E : S Y . 6 - 6 4 2 3

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D E S E R T C A L E N D A RJuly 30-August I Black DiamondStampede, F'rice, Utah.July 31-Augusi 1All-Indian Festival.Winslow, Arizona.August 1-31Special exhibit, William

Alexander Hamilton's oil portraitsof Navajo Indians. Southwest Mu-seum, Highland Park, Los Angeles,California.August 2O1J Pecos Dance, JemezIndian Pueblo, New Mexico.August 4Corn Dance and Fiesta,Santo Domingo Pueblo, New Mex-i c o .August 7-9Teddy Roosevelt RoughRiders and Cowboy's Reunion, LasVegas, New Mexico.August 8Smoki Snake Dance andIndian Ceremonials, Prescott. Ari-zona.August 10Annual fiesta of San Lo-renzo, Picuris Pueblo, New Mex-i c o .August 12 A nnual F iesta, SantaClara Pueblo, New Mexico.August 13-16 In ter-tribal IndianCeremonial;., Gallup, New Mexico.August 14-15Annual Square DanceFestival, Flagstaff, Arizona.August 15Assumption Day Fiestaand Ceremcnial Dance, Zia Pueblo,New Mexico.August 15-17Quay County Sheriff'sPosse Rodeo. Tucumcari, New

Mexico.August 19-21Cache County Fair.Logan. Utah.August 21-22Summit County Fairand Rodeo, Coalville, Utah.August 22Sin Augustin Fiesta andDance, Isleta Pueblo, New Mexico.August 26-2^ Junior LivestockShow, Richfield. Utah.August 26-28Hereford ranch tours.New Mexico.August 28-29Tooele County Fair,Tooele, Utah.August 29-September 1 AnnualSanta Fe Fiesta, Santa Fe, NewMexico.August 31-September 2 SanpeteCounty Fa r and Rodeo, M anti,Utah. '

DusntiV o l u m e 1 6CO VERCALENDARCELEBRATIONP H O T O G R A P H YI N D I A N SC R A F T SDESERT QUIZCLOSE-UPSLOST MINEFICTIONCO NTESTEXPERIENCEFIELD TRIPPOETRYLETTERSP RO SP ECTINGMININGN E W SP L A Y G R O U N D SLAP IDARYHOBBYC O M M E N TB O O K S

AUGUST, 1953 Number 8J e m e z H a r v e s t D a n c e . P h o t o b y R A Y M A N L E Y ofW e s t e r n W a y s , T u c s o n , A r i z o n aA u g u s t e v e n t s o n t h e d e s e r t 3I nt er -t ri ba l I n d i a n C e r e m o n i a l a t G a l l u p . . . 4P i c t u res of t he Mo n t h 5M i r a c l e in P a r k e r V a l l e y

B y R A N D A L L H E N D E R S O N 6W e a v e r s o f C h i m a y oBy DO RO TH Y L PILLSBURY 12A t e s t of y o u r d e s e r t k n o w l e d g e 16Ab ou t t ho se wh o wr i t e fo r Des er t 16Los t B l ue Bucket Go l d

By JOH N D. MITCH ELL 17H a r d R o c k S h o r t y of D e a t h V a l l e y 18P r i z e s f or p h o t o g r a p h e r s 18L ife o n t h e D e s e r t, b y R IC H G I F F O R D . . . 19H i s t o r i c P a s s i n t h e W i n d R i v e r C o u n t r y

By JAY ELLIS RA NS OM 20D e s e r t M i r a c l e , a n d o t h e r p o e m s 2 4C o m m e n t f ro m D e s e r t ' s r e a d e r s 2 5P e r m i t s R e q u i r e d i n B o r r e g o a n d A n z a P a r k s . 2 6C u r r e n t n e w s of d e s e r t m i n e s 2 8F r o m H e r e a n d T h e r e o n t h e D e s e r t 2 9N e w F e e S c h e d ul e for N a t i on a l P a rk s . . . . 34A m a t e u r G e m C u t t e r, b y LE L A N D E Q U I C K . . 3 5G e m s a n d M i n e r a l s 3 6J us t B e t w e e n Y o u a n d M e , b y t h e E d it or . . . 4 2R e v i e w s of S o u t h w e s t e r n l i t e r a t u r e 4 3

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., Palm Desert,California. Re-ente red as second class matt er July 17, 1948, at the post office at P alm D esert,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 c ontentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager MARGARET GERKE, Associate EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, 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 manuscrip ts or photogra phs although due care will be exercised. Sub-scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.

SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne Year $3.50 Two Years $8.00Canadian Subscriptions 25c Extra, F oreign 50c ExtraSubscriptions to Army Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP . O. D. Order No. 19687Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, California

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" A m e r i c a ' s G r e a t e s tA u t h e n t i c In d ia n

S p e c t a c l e "a t

G a l l u p , New M e x i c oThe Indian Capital

3 2 n d A n n u a l In t e r - T r i b a lI n d i a n C e r e m o n i a lAugust 13,14,15, 16

S e e th e Devil Dance andY eb ech a i of the Navajos Eagle Dance andHunting Dance of theCochitis Bow andArrow andClown Dance of theHopis Snake Dance and OwlD an ce of the Arapahoe-C h e y e n n e s Butterfly Da nc e and Shield Dance of theLagunasThese and scores of others inc luding the A p a c h e ,Sioux, Zuni, San Juan, and Taos Indians

4 Colorful Daysof Indian Dancing andp arad es in Gal l up ' s greatCeremonial Stadium

Mammoth Exhibit of Indian Arts and CraftsFor reserva t ions and tickets write to

INTER-TRIBAL INDIAN CEREMONIAL ASS'NGallup, New Mexico

fo 'Dance fa7HOUSANDS OFAmerican Indians, from 35 tribes,will gather in Gallup, New Mexico, August 13through 16 for the'32nd annual Inter-Tribal IndianCeremonial.The ceremonial is an exciting eventnot only for thehundreds of Indians who travel by wagon many milesfrom isolated reservation homes for the four days ofinter-tribal competition and fellowship, but also for thewhite visitor who here has a rare opportunity to seesacred tribal dances and to photograph the Indian in hismost colorful ceremonial finery.Many of the Indians will come from Southwest tribesNavajo, Hopi, Apache, Ute and most of the 18 Pueblotribes, living in NewMexico's Rio Grand e Valley. Fro mOklahoma will come the Cherokee, from South Dakota,the colorful Sioux.More than 60 dances will be performed by thesetribes on the evening program in the large outdoor arena.Judges will grade the performers for precision, techniqueand adherence to tradition. There will be special tribalrites and musical chants, athletic contests like wagonraces and tugs-of-war. A parade each morning will offermore opportunity to study and photograph the Indians 'costumes asdancers andmusicians march through Gallup'sstreets, followed by Indian families in their horse-drawnwooden wagons.

The giant exhibit hall on the ceremonial grounds willcontain the finest work of Indian craftsmen, for visitors'inspection andpurchase. A score of the best artisans willdemonstrate their ancient arts of pottery making, basketry,weaving and silver work. Each day a sand painting willbe made by Navajo medicine men sifting colored sandsthrough their fingers to create symbolic designs of brilliantcolor and delicate detail.

The celebration, first staged in 1922, is sponsored bythe Inter-Tribal Ceremonial Association "to increase theappreciation of the beauties of Indian life, customs andt radkions; to bring about a better understanding betweenIndians and whites, and to develop the production of fineIndian arts and crafts."The first Gallup ceremonial was a small event,staged with inadeq uate facilities. Exhibits were arrangedin tents; automobiles provided seats for spectators and

their headlights illuminated the evening programs.The people of Gallup struggled for many years to putthe ceremonial on a sound financial basis. Even todaythe production is rated a success when it breaks even.Since 1939 it has received a yearly appropriation fromthe NewMex ico State Legislatu re. State funds are usedto develop further the ceremonial plant and to providerecreational facilities for the community.All Indians whoattend the ceremonial are admittedfree to the grounds, the bleacher seats and the exhibit hall.They are given hay for their animals, wood for their fires,water and a free barbecue meal each day. Cash prizesare awarded the competitors in the various events.The cast proper is composed of about 400 Indians.They are furnished transportation, quarters and meals,and each ispaid to perform.The ceremonial is a photographer's paradise, andvisitors are urged to bring their cameras.

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P I C T I R E S O FT H E M O N T H . . .

Basking in the midday sun, an iguan alizard posed his regal profile for R.Van Nostrand of San Diego, California,who captured this fine photographicstudy. Taken with a Speed Graphiccame ra, panchrom atic press type B film,1/200 second at f. 16, it won first prizein Desert Magazine's June Picture-of-the-Month contest.

Ghost remnants of the Western min-ing boom, these six coke ovens standin a canyon about 14 miles south of Ely,Ne vad a. Adrian Atwater of CarsonCity, Nevada, took the picture one Oc-tober afternoon, using a Speed Graphiccamera, Super XX film, K2 yellow filter,1/50 second at f. 16, and with it wonsecond prize honors for June.

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Fifty years ago the ColoradoRiver Indians on the reservation atParker, Arizona, were among themost backward tribesmen in theUnited States. They had lost thefreedom and incentives of theircarefree tribal days, and had madeno progress yet in adapting them-selves to the white man's civiliza-tion. But it is a different story todayas you will learn in readingRandall Henderson's story of hisexperience on this reservation.

. ;-During the last 40 years the stick-in-the-mud hut pictured abo ve has givenway to . . .

M iracle in P arker ValleyBy RANDALL HENDERSONMap by Norton Allen

ONE afternoon in May thisyear 1 unrolled m y sleeping bagand made camp in a little clear-ing among the mesquite trees on theColorado River Indian reservation 40miles south of Parker, Arizona.This was not strange territory to me.In 1911 as a member of a U. S. LandOffice surveying party I had campednear this same spot. At that time wewere engaged in establishing sectioncorners and making 10-acre allotmentsto the Mojave and Chemehuevi Indianswho had acquired this rich ColoradoRiver valley by treaty with Uncle Sam.Hoover Dam had not yet been builtat Black Canyon 160 miles upstream,and much of the Parker Valley wassubject to overflow when melting snow

in the Rocky Mountains sent an an-nual flood deluge surging downstreamon its way to the Gulf of California.There were between 500 and 600Indians on the reservation at that time,and they were an impoverished people.They were living in adobe and stick-in-the-mud huts, cooking and for themost part sleeping on the ground, andthey had neither toilets nor other sani-tary facilities.They were at the low point in thattransitory period through which allAmerican Indians have had to pass.

They had lost the freedom and theincentives of their carefree tribal days,and had made no progress yet in theiradjustment to the white man's civiliza-

tion. With nearly 100,000 acresthe most fertile land in America attheir disposal, and a pumping plantoperated by the Indian Service to pro-vide water for irrigation, they had lessthan 360 acres under cultivation andwere living at a bare subsistence level.I had an exceptional opportunity toget acquainted with these people andobserve their living conditions for in1912 I was employed by the Indianagent there to secure a series of pho-tographs which were to be sent toWashington in an effort to get an ap-propriation to better the living condi-tions on this reservation. These photoswere to show the complete lack ofproper housing and living facilities thatexisted on the reservation at that time.

of I recall that I caught one sn apsh ot ofa mangy dog and a couple of chickensas they rushed in to seize morsels offood from the frying pan when an In-dian woman, cooking on the ground,turned her back.That, briefly, was the status of theColorado River Indians at Parker in1911 and 1912. And now I had re-turned after 42 years to see whatchange had taken place during the in-tervening period.

My camp that night was in a shel-tered cove near the base of MoonMountain in the southern half of thereservation. The healthy growth ofmesquite jungle all around me was evi-dence of the fertility of this soil. Iwondered if the tribesmen who ownedThis modest frame type of cottage such as may be seen today on Indianfarms everywhere on the reservation.


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this rich valley would some day adaptthemselves to the white man's farmingmethods and extract from this soil thewealth which work and water andfarming know-how could bring them.I learned the answer to that ques-tion in the days that followed. I hadentered the reservation from the south,near the old ghost river town of Eh-

renberg on Highway 60, and as Icontinued northward the length of thevalley which extends for 60 miles alongthe Colorado River, I came first to adrainage canal, and then to fields whichhad been newly cleared and leveled forcultivation. Rows of cotton plants werejust coming through the ground.Then 1 came to a paved roa d, andas 1 continuec my journey tow ardParker, which is located on the mesaat the northern end of the valley, Jentered an area where highly improvedfields of cotton and alfalfa bord ered

the highway on both sides. I looked invain for familiar landmarks, for thiswas a land where 42 years ago oursurveyors' line wagon had followeddusty trails which wound through themesquite, past mud huts where nakedIndian children, dark-skinned womenin long mother nubbards, and mongreldogs had been the most conspicuousevidence of human habitation.Today I found clean orderly fieldsof alfalfa, straight well-tended rows ofcotton, and modest frame houses suchas would be seen in a prosperous farm-ing community in the South.The agency headquarters for thisreservation is on the mesa just outsideof Parker, where the Indian Service haserected a group of substantial buildingswith broad well-kept lawns shaded bysycamores. Th; superintendent hereis James M. Stewart, a veteran of theIndian Service v/ho formerly was agentfor the Navajo Indians at WindowRock, Arizona. Mr. Stewart was away

To this virgin mesquite-covered valley along the Colorado River U ncleSam has brought . . .

from his office on official business, butfrom his assistant, Orlando Garcia,and from Clyde W. Pensoneau, agri-cultural extension agent for the Indianoffice, I learned much about the affairsof these Indians.Pensoneau is himself a Shawnee In-dian, a college graduate and a fine typeof native Am erican. He combines anexcellent technical knowledge of farm-ing with a pleasing personality and adeep-rooted understanding of and sym-pathy for Indian problems such as onlyan Indian could have for his own raceof people.We sat in his office and talked aboutthe problems involved in reclaimingthe land in this virgin valley, and oftransforming its Indian population inone generation from primitive tribes-men to modern farmers.During that interview, and later ona motor trip through the cultivatedfields on the reserva tion, Pensonea utold me about these Indians and their

Water, and the Indians' industry and know-how are converting Parker Valleyinto one of the most productive areas in the West.

achievements. There are 1,175 Mo-javes and Chemehuevis now on thereservation. Indian families are farm-ing 16,221 acres either as owners oras colonists, and white farmers areworking 8,824 acres under lease.The 10-acre allotments which wesurveyed for these Indians in 1911-12did not prove feasible, and Indian fam-ilies now are assigned 80-acre units asrecommended by the Bureau of Agri-cultural Economics.While there are only a few whitefarmers on the reservation, they have

played an important role in develop-ing the agriculture of this rich valley.They were invited several years agoto come in and take 10-year leasesunder which they would clear and levelthe land, build distribution canals, andbring it to a high state of cultivation.At the end of 10 years they are to turnit back to the tribe in alfalfa. Theyalso pay a nominal cash rental.With high prices prevailing for cot-ton and alfalfa in recent years, thishas been a good deal for the whitefarmers, and they also have given theIndians a practical demonstration ofwhat good farming will do with thisland. They have built a cotton ginand opened a trading post, and sincetheir children were entitled to school-ing, a school district was formed andfine modern class rooms were builthere where Indian and Anglo-Ameri-can children study from the samebooks. The Indian Service also main-tains an excellent school in anotherpart of the reservation. There arenow only 14 Indians in this jurisdic-tion who do not speak English.

Last year the average cash incomeof an Indian farmer in this valley was$4181 , mostly from cotton and alfalfa,although some grain is grown.Uncle Sam has often fumbled in his


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COLORPDO R IVERIN D I flN R ESER VA TIONWHIPPLE j$&MTNS.

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dealings with the American Indians,bu t he has dealt generously with thetribesmen on the Colorado River res-ervation. In the middle of the lastcentury when white settlers were mov-ing westward and taking up the bestlands, Congress protected these Indiansby establishing in 1865 a reservationof 75,000 acres. In 1872 PresidentU. S. Grant increased this to 240,000acres of which 100,000 were silt bot-tom lands along the Colorado River.The valley is of the same character butlarger than either the Yuma or PaloVerde Valleys. As a result of minorchanges in recent years, the reserva-tion now contains 265,858 acres. Itis believed that some of the mesa landadjoining the valley may eventually beirrigated by pumps, as is done on theYuma mesa.

Periodic efforts were made in the1860s, 1870s and 1880s toprovide ir-rigation water for these Indians, but itwas not until 1913 that a successfulpumping plant was installed on thebank of the Colorado to insure ade-quate water for a limited acreage.

Much of the land continued to besubject toannual overflow until HooverDam was built. Then, in 1941 the In-dian Bureau completed a $5,000,000diversion dam at Headgate rock justabove Parker to insure an adequatesupply of water for the entire ParkerValley for all time.In 1942 a Japanese relocation campwas established near the center ofParker Valley and during their con-finement here the Japanese broughtapproximately 4000 acres under culti-vation.When the warended and the Japan-ese camp wasabandoned, hundreds ofbarracks remained unoccupied. TheIndian Service has been selling theseold buildings at a modest figure to theIndians and with this salvaged lumbermost of the tribesmen in the valleyhave built comfortable cottage homes.In addition to the farming land inthe reservation the tribe has title toa power plant at Headgate Rock Dam,has gypsum deposits estimated at over25,000,000 tons, and owns 1015 townlots in Parker. The tribal income in1951 was$31,777. In resources, thisis one of the wealthiest tribes for itssize in the United States.But while the Mojaves and Cheme-huevis have been learning the whiteman's way of farming, they also haveacquired some of the white man's zestfor acquiring wealth. For after all,under the skin these Indians are thesame kind of humans as the rest of usand since they have nowprospered ina small way they aspire to move upinto the big money. And this goal

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Young Indian farmers being given field instruction by agricultural teachers fromthe Indian Service at Parker.has brought discontent to the reserva-tion. It is a rathe r long story :For many years it has been appar-ent to all those who were interested,that the resources of the arid Hopi andNavajo reservations in northern Ari-zona were inadequate to support thefast-increasing pop ulatio ns the re. Offi-cials of the Indian Bureau saw therich bottom land along the ColoradoRiver lying idle and unproductive more land probably than the ColoradoRiver Indians would ever put to bene-ficial use-and someone suggested thathere was a possible opportunity forrelieving the critical land problem ofother Indian tribesmen.

Federal representatives discussed theproject with the Ind ians: It was pro -posed that the upper 25,000 acres ofirrigable land ir the reservation be setaside as the Northern Reserve for theexclusive use of the original tribesmen,the Mojaves and Chemehuevis, and

that the remaining 75,000 acres, tobe known as the Southern Reserve, beopened for colonization by other In-dians, the Navajo, Hopi, Hualapai,Apache, Zuni, Yuma, Papago andSupai.Title to all the land would remainin the name of the original owners, butthe colonists from other reservationswould be brought in under a perpetualtenure plan, provided they were willingto become members of the ColoradoRiver tribes.As compensation to the Mojavesand Chemehuevis, the Indian Serviceagreed to clear, level and put underirrigation, without cost to the Indians,15,000 acres of land in the NorthernReserve, and a similar acreage in theSouthern Reserve. About 12,500 acres

in the Northern Reserve already havebeen subjugated in accordance withthis agreement.The Colorado River tribes agreed

to this proposal and it was adopted asOrdinance Five in 1945.A few months later an initial colonyof 24 Hopi families from northern Ari-zona arrived in a motor caravan andmoved into the barracks which hadbeen vacated by the Japanese internees.Each family was allotted 40 acres fromthe lands which the Japanese had im-proved.Since then, many Navajo familiesalso have emigrated to the "Land ofthe Big Water" and have become suc-cessful cotton farmers. Tod ay thereare 25 Hopi families, 106 Navajo fam-ilies and two Supais in the ColoradoRiver colony, and the original 40-acreallotments have been increased to 80acres. The federal government lendseach family $4000 to cover the costof moving, and for the purchase ofequipment and for building purposes.More recently, however, the leadersof the Colorado River tribes have de-

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At one of theColorado River reservation schools Phil Premy, lower row, center,has recruited this staff of Indian students tohelp publish a monthly school paper.cided they made a bad deal with Uncle view that the entire reservation is their As a substitute forOrdinance Five,Sam, and in January, 1952, thetribal land, and that colonists, whether white the Colorad o River tribes now proposecouncil by referendum vote rescinded or Indian, should pay them a rental that they should be allotted 35,000Ordinance Five. They nowtake the for the use of theland. acres of irrigable land, and that the

Uncle Sam spent $5,000,000 building this diversion dam in theColorado River toinsure irrigation water for the Indians.

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remaining 65,000 acres be leased tooutsiders who nay or may not be In-dians. It is estimated tha t unde r sucha program the) might attain a tribalincome of $2,000,000 annually. TheIndians have employed an attorney totake their problem to the courts ifnecessary.To learn how the northern Arizona

Indians felt about their Colorado Rivercolony I talked with Albert Yava, oneof the original Hopi colonists, and aleader among his people. I found Al-bert on a scaffold painting the interiorof one of the agency houses."I should be down on my 80-acrefarm cultivating my cotton," he ex-plained, "but they needed painters andI learned the trade in school in Okla-homa. ""Yes, I like this land," he said, inanswer to my question. "T he Hopisare doing well here, and we want to

remain."When I asked him why there hadbeen so little increase in the numberof families in the Hopi colony duringthe seven years they have been atParker, he explained that it was be-cause of the attitude of the Mojavetribal council."Personally, they have treated us allright," he said, "but this is their landand we feel we are not welcome here.1 have reportec this to my people onthe Hopi Mesa^," he added, "and theydo not think they should come here

where they are not wanted. As theyfeel about it new, no more Hopis willcome down here until they can do sowith the consent of the Colorado RiverIndians."Later at the agency headquarters Iwas told that the Navajos do not sharethis attitude. "T here is a waiting listof Navajos eager to come to the Colo-rado River valley as soon as land issubjugated and ready for them, "oneof the Indian Service men told me.Attorneys for the Department ofInterior have taken the view that a

tribal ordinance in the form of a con-tract cannot be rescinded without con-sent of both parties, and that the Colo-rado Indians cannot go back on theoriginal agreement unless the federalgovernment agrees to a revision.And that is where the issue standstoday. The attorney for the Indianswas quoted as having expressed confi-dence that the controversy can besettled without resort to the courts.I drove across the reservation totalk with Jay Gould, chairman of theColorado River tribal council. Jay

was a lad attending school in FortMojave 42 years ago when I was achainm an on the surveying crew. Hishome must hav; been one of the stick-

Ja y Gould, chief of the Mojaves, raises nearly two bales of cotton to the acre.in-the-mud huts I saw in the virginmesquite jungle, for there were noother Indian homes on the reservationat that time.Jay Gould has come a long waysince 1 911-1 2. 1 found him out in hiscotton field riding the seat of the latesttype of 4-row tractor cultivatoranda very efficient tool it is. As I talkedwith him I gained the impression thathere was an industrious and forthrighttribesman who had been selected astribal chairman because of his inherentqualifications for leadership. The In-dians were electing their chiefs bydemocratic processes long before theConstitution of the United States waswritten.Jay told me he has 110 acres of al-falfa in addition to the 72 acres wherehe was working . This cotton field hadyielded 132 bales the previous yearand 132 bales on 72 acres is good cot-ton farming on any land.I did not bring up the matter of

Ord inanc e Five. Th at is an affair forthe Indians and the federal governmentto nego tiate. I was interested in Jay 'ssuccess as a farmer, for to me he per-sonifies the miracle that has takenplace on this reservation in one genera-tion.RIO GRANDE DRIES UPMO MENTARILY IN TEXASFor the first time in history, the RioGrande stopped flowing and driedaway into a bed of sand at Laredo,Texas, in June . Emergency w ater wellswere hastily dug downstream from theborder city, but they provided waterfor little more than drinking and sani-tary purposes for the 350 residents ofthe lower Rio Grande V alley. The rewas practically none for thousands ofacres of irrigated vegetables and fruit.The drouth only lasted a few days. TheRio Grande is the sole major sourceof water for probably 500,000 personsin Texas and Mexican border areas.

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New Mexico weaver at his loom.W eave rs of Chim ayoBy DOROTHY L. PILLSBURYP h o t o g r a p h s by Harold Gems

W h e n the corn and pintob e a n s areharvested in the fall,then the Chixnayo weavers ofthe little NewMexican vi l lagesaround Santa Fe turn to theirlooms and ply a craft which hasbeen handed down to them formany generations. They arefarmers by occupation, but ev-er y one of them is an artist atheartand theproduct of theirlooms is in demand all aroundthe world.

T W AS IN 1915 and in the yearsfollowing that a rattling old Essexca r of a vintage nowseen only inthe museums bumped along over therocky roads around Santa Fe, NewMexico, with Julius Gans at the wheel.Mexican villagers driving to town inhorse drawn wood wagons, called onall their saints, or cursed in explosiveSpanish as their animals reared andplunged. Black shawled sefioras crossedthemselves and their young oneswhooped and yelled. Serene faced In-dians tossed their dignity aside andgrinned from ear to ear. Julius Ganswas prospecting again. And it wasnot for gold. It was for native crafts.Julius Gans did not need to pros-pect. He had a highly respectablepro-

fession. In his home town of Chicagohe had been a member of an eminentlegal firm. When he came to Santa Fein 1913, he became a member of alocal firm equally as eminent. But thecountry and its native crafts bewitchedhim.With four extra tires, ropes, chains,shovel, bedding and food he roamedthe country. The Rio Grande IndianPueblos knew him and his high-slungcar. So did the medieval Spanish vil-lages of Chimayo, Cundiyo and Cor-dova in the high mountain valleys ofthe Sangre de Cristo range. Chim ay6,the nearest of thevillages, isonly about30 miles from Santa Fe. In 1915 withroads into the village what they were,it often took Julius Gans four days tomake the round trip.

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Bad roads kept these Spanish vil-lages medieval well into the twentiethcentury. The spread of Spanish colo-nization had by-passed them and later,so did America's western march. Theywere a Spanish version of the Anglo-Saxon Mountain White settlements inthe Appalachians.When Julius, Gans' Essex hurtled

into these villages, the people wereliving much as their ancestors had livedin medieval Spain. The older onesspoke the Spanish of Cervantes. Al-most every thick-walled adobe housein Chimayo held a big handmade loomand dark-eyed men walked the treadlesand plied the s luttle to ma ke the mostbeautiful blankets Julius Gans had everseen. They were finely woven and softand light. They shimm ered with des-ert country sunrise and sunset colors.Here was more than a craft. Here wasan art and such it remains to this day.Before long, Julius Gans forgot thathe had put in many years of his life

adjudicating m en's difficulties. He wasbuying Indian pottery, turquoise andsilver jewelry and most of all he wasbuying Chimayo blankets woven inMexican villages that looked like pagestorn from some old Spanish romance.He bought so much that he had tostart a little store in Santa Fe. Later ,that store, the Southwest Arts andCrafts, had to be moved into largerquarters on a corner of the old Plazawhere it is today . Th e chief reasonfor this need for more space was andis those jewel-toned blankets wovenon hand made looms in New Mexicanmountain villages. Julius Gans prob-ably never dreamed in those early daysthat those same blankets by 1952would gross $200,000 a year.

That store was and is more than aplace to buy and sell. It is an easilyaccessible cross-section of the region.Because Julius Gans was experiencedin unsnarling human difficulties, hesoon found himself in the position of

Hands of a craftsman-artist.

a Spanish patron with the weavers. Hebecame Don Julio. Spanish weaverswho came in to leave a blanket, wentout with a solution to many a villagedifficulty. Don Julio was never toobusy to spend hours and half dayslistening to a villager caught in thesnarl of ever encroaching Americanways.He did much more for these weav-ing villagers than give them advice anda ma rket for their craft. He held thatcraft to high stand ards . In Spanishcolonial days they had raised their ownsheep, sheared them, washed, carded,spun and dyed their yarn with yellowfrom the desert chamisa, purple fromthe bee plant and brown from juniperbark. As time went on they bough ttheir yarn ready to use from easternmanu facturers. To save expense, theywere using cotton warp as some weav-ers in Old Mexico are still doing. By1919 Julius Gans had changed this.

Warp and weft had to be all wool orhe would not buy the blanket. Today

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Hundreds of Chimayo blankets and no two alike.every Chimayo blanket is one hun-dred percent wool.

In 1930 an amazing thing happenedin this business of surprises. A womanwas employed in the store whose workit was to sort out turquoise stones tobe used by the silversmiths in makingturquoise and silver jewelry. She hadnever studied design. She had neverdesigned anything. Her name is OllieMcKenzie. "Let me make a jacketout of a Chimayo blanket," she begged.

She made one that won instant ap-proval. She has been designing andimproving on them ever since. She isin charge of the store's sewing roomwhere 30 girlsmostly Spanish-Ameri-canmake up the jackets which OllieMcKenzie cuts out one by one. Noelectric cutter slashes through layersof hand woven material here. This isno assembly belt sewing room. Eachgirl does all the work on the coat shestarts and finishes. "They are boundto lose interest if they just make col-

lars or sleeves over and over again,day after day," says Ollie.The result is that Chimayo jacketsare now worn all over the nation.They are sold in all National Parkswest of the Mississippi and in specialtyshops from New York to San Fran-cisco and from Chicago to Dallas.It is not only the women of thenation who are wearing jackets wovenin New Mexican villages. Men are noless admirers of Chimayo than are theirwomen folk. Chimayo vests are seeneverywhere. Contra Costa county'smounted posse has taken prizes inparades for their costumes and horsesnot only in California, but as far awayas Honolulu. And the outstandingfeature of those costumes are Chimayovests with a man on horseback woveninto the back. One year they wear redvests and another year blue vests and

they catch the eye like desert country'ssunrise and sunset colors.Harold Gans, who practically grewup with a Chimayo blanket in one

hand, a silver and turquoise conchabelt in the other and an Indian bowlbalanced on his head, is carrying onsince his father's recent death. Thebig store is a sort of regional crossroads. Harold has as his secretary agirl from San Juan Indian Pueblo andhe says she is the last word in helpful-ness. Mingling with visiting touristscome the Indians from the Pueblos andfrom the reservations, and big-hattedSpanish villagers. Saturday morningthe place looks like a session of theAll-Pueblo Council or a politico rallyin an adobe village. Along with themen folk come the mamas and theyoung ones. Spanish and two or threeIndian languages are heard up anddown the store's length.

Harold pointed to a highbackedbench, something like a church pew,in the rear of the sales room. "Thenursing bench," he grinned. "Looksstrange in front of stylish jackets des-tined for city boulevards, but it's anecessity, I can tell you. I don't know

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how many hundreds of Indian andSpanish village infants have been fedon that bench."Harold, like his father, Julius, has aprofound respect for the honesty ofSpanish weavers. For years the storehas been supplying individual weaverswith high grade yarn they use in theirweaving. They come down from theirvillages and pick out the yarn in theamount and in the colors they want.Then they take it home to their adobehouses and weave it and return thefinished pro du ci. If the blank et passesinspection, they are paid for it withthe cost of the wool yarn deducted.

In a battered card file are dozens ofsales slips for yarn made out to dozensof weavers named Martinez, Vigil,Duran, and Gonzales, and other melo-dious Spanish names. No weaver paidcash. No weaver signed anything. Noweaver was asked where he lived. Mostof the craftsmen have been bringingtheir work here for many years. Haroldknows which ones are from Chimayoor Tram pas or Penasco . Sometimesthere are close to a hundred slips inthe file and often a single weaver takesout from eighty to a hundred dollarsworth of wool. In the course of time,the wool comes back in a blanket andits price is deducted from the pricepaid for the finished product."In fifteen years," Harold said, "wehaven't lost a hundred dollars on suchtransactions. Once a year I ride therange on the ones who took out yarnand haven't shewed up with any weav-ing. I hunt around in those adobe vil-lages back in the mountains and usu-ally find the offender. The re is gener-ally a good reason why there was noweaving brought in. Someone hadbeen sick, someone had gone to Colo-rado to work in the harvest, someonemight even be languishing in the peni-tenciario. But eventually in comes theweaving. Ever/thing is bueno!"Harold glanced at the great piles ofblankets in the store, the table runners,pillow tops and racks filled with jacketsand vests. "T he hardest order to fill ,"he groaned, "is when someone wantsa duplicate of a blanket he already has.No two blankeis are ever alike. Withsome 25,000 pieces of weaving in thestore, blankets, runners, pillow tops,jackets and vests, no two are alike.The weavers follow no pattern. Theyjust dream up the design as they goalong. Th en they turn the half theyhave woven under on the big rollerand do the other half from memory ora kind of sixth sense. They don 'tmeasure and they don't plan, but it all

comes out right in design and colorcomb ination. Wh en we ask them toduplicate, they are indignant. Thatslows them down for then they have

Men do the weaving, but girls turn the woven cloth into jackets, tablerunners, vests, pillow tops.to measure and plan and they losemoney. Furtherm ore, it is againsttheir nature and their principles."Where do they get their designs?Out of their creative imagination asdoes any artist. Some of the designsshow Mexican influence, some oldSpanish and some Indian. He re is theIndian Thunderbird and the arrow andthe symbols for rain. Here are geo-metric designs that might have comeout of Me xico. But the total result incolor and design is as truly New Mexi-can as a ruler edged mesa top or acluster of little adobe houses withhollyhocks growing around them."

Harold laughed, but there was alittle note of tragedy in it. "B efore thelast war the weavers were using anIndian symbol we later wished theyhad never seen. The swastika! TheIndians had been using that symbolhundreds of years before that fellow,

Hitler, ever heard of it. Only the armsof the Indian symbol turned in theopposite direction from those used by'Smells-His-Mustache' as the Navajoscalled He rr Hitler. Alon g came thewar and caught us with about twohundred blankets with swastikas allover them. It was just about likesticking a knife in your pet dog to putthe shears in those two hundred blan-kets and cut out the swastikas. Butwe had to do it."

The store founded by Julius Gansand his high-slung Essex is now adelightful combination of the ultramodern, the early twentieth centuryand the very ancient. Mu seum pieceIndian pottery, cradle boards, oldSpanish chests are displayed with racksof jackets and regional dresses boundfor the big cities of the nation."It 's more than a store," Haroldmused . "I t's a kind of regional center.

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Dad started it with the weavers. Theybrought him all their troubles fromlack of rain to a vino fracas. He ad-vanced the money to bring their young-sters into the world, to take care ofthem when they were sick, to burythem. I can't fill his shoes, but I'vemade a name for myself as a figurerof income tax returns for the moreprosperous ones. Believe me, it's agrand and glorious feeling to figuretax returns for a man who has any-

where from eight to sixteen children.'Harold confessed that he has plentyof problems to meet. One is that it ishard to get enough weaving done tofill his wholesale orders arid daily re-tail sales. The weavers in New Mexi-can mountain villages are first of allsubsistence farmers. From early springuntil late October, most of them arebusy with their rows of pinto beans,their corn fields, chile plants andsquashes. Just try to get those villagers

D e s e r t Q u i z This monthly test is for those who wish tolearn more about the Great American Desert.The questions include history, geography, abit of botany and mineralogy, and the lore of the desert country. If youget less than 10 correct you are still a tenderfoot. From 12 to 15 is theaverage score of a desert rat, 16 or over makes you a Sand Dune Sage.The answers are on page 34.1Arizona's famous Camelback Mountain is seen fromNogalesPhoenix . Tucson Flagstaff2The Devil's Golf Course is located inWhite Sands National Monu-ment Zion National Park Death Valley Valleyof Fire in Nevada3The blossom of the ironwood tree isPink White Yel-low . Blue4Desert Mistletoe does not grow on one of the following treesIron-wood Mesquite Joshua Tree Catsclaw5The fossil wood known as Jet is likely to be found inCopper minedumps Quartz veins Iron deposits Coalmines6Yucca plant sometimes is calledSoapweed .... GreasewoodSagebrush . Sandfood7The Chimayo weaving industry is centered mostly in Mexican villagesaroundCedar City, Utah Santa Fe, New Mexico LasVegas, Nevada Palm Springs, California8One of the following Indian tribes does not have a reservation in

ArizonaHualapai Hopi Pima Acoma9The humorist, Dick Wick Hall, did most of his writing at his hometown ofYuma, Arizona Globe, Arizona Salome, Ari-zona Holtville, California10Hogan is a Navajo word meaning Sheep MountainDwelling house Ceremonial dance11Shorty Harris, during much of his lifetime, was identified withVirginia City, Nevada Death Valley Grand CanyonOak Creek Canyon in Arizona12Amethyst is a violet colored Feldspar Agate Cal-cite Quartz13The book, What Kinda Cactus lzzat? was written byReg Man-ning Oren Arnold Edmund C. Jaeger . MaryBeal14The channel of the Rio Grande north of El Paso is mainly inNewMexico Arizona Colorado Texas15Palma was a famous chief of thePapagos Yumas Mo-javes Apaches16Most of the tales about the Lost Pegleg Smith gold give the locationas somewhere in The Lechuguilla desert of Arizona TheMojave desert of California The Black Rock desert ofNevada, . The Colorado desert of Southern California17Barstow, California, is on the bank of theAmargosa RiverVirgin River Bill Williams River Mojave River18Wyatt Earp was a frontier marshal atJerome, Arizona Gold-field, Nevada Tombstone, Arizona Panamint City, Cali-fornia19The book, Gold, Guns and Ghost Towns, was written by W. A.

Chalfant Mark Twain Frank Lockwood EdwinCorle20The annual Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial is held each year atPrescott Taos Winslow Gallup

busy at their looms! But when wintercomes and snow lies white on flat roofs,then the weavers walk the old treadlesof their hand-made looms. Whilecedar wood crackles in big iron woodstoves and red beans simmer and thescent of onion and chile fills the snug,thick-walled little house, then villageweavers really go to work.Who is going to do the weaving afterthis generation of weavers is gone, no-body knows. Many of the young menof the villages, back from war andforeign parts, are side-stepping the old-looms. They work in a garage, workat Los Alamos, pilot commercial air-planes. Like most other humans theywant things and the money to buythem."There's an essential quality aboutthis mountain weaving that few peoplerealize. It never wears out," Haroldsaid thoughtfully. "Throw a blanketon the floor and walk on it ten years

and it will still be intact. It's some-thing like good old mahogany furni-ture or silver spoons. It's heirloomstuff. That's what it is, even if my daddid make a successful commercial en-terprise of it."

Rich Gifford's first attempt at writ-ing paid off with a second-prizeaward in Desert Magazine's 1953 Lifeon the Desert contest. His story about"Indian Charley" the rainmaker ap-pears in this issue.Gifford was born in Denver, Colo-rado, within sight of the eastern foot-hills of the Rockies. In 1906 hisfather was transferred to Durango, insouthwestern Colorado, to take overmanagement of coal mines for thePorter Fuel Company. Gifford grewup in the wide open western townpopulated by miners, cowmen, ranchersand railroaders."Shortly after I was graduated fromthe Durango high school," Giffordwrites, "we moved to Hesperus, alively little coal camp about 14 milesout of Durango on the La Plata River.Here I assisted my father in operatingthe coal mines and also ran a smallgeneral store for miners' families andnearby ranchers. I served as post-master in Hesperus for about 14 years."Eventually mining declined, and itwas no longer possible to work thecoal veins on a profitable scale. WhenWorld War II broke out, Giffordmoved to Los Angeles and a job inthe aircraft industry. In 1951 he re-turned to Hesperus to take over hisfather's mining interests.

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MALHEURC O .

By JOHN D. MITCHELLMap ske tch by Margare t GerkeN THE Y EA R 1845, four yearsbefore the California gold rush,an emigrant train was on its wayacross the great plains. Oregon, notCalifornia, was its goal land, notgold, its mission.The pioneers worked their wayacross the country with the aid of acompass. They crossed desert, plainand mountains keeping on a fairlystraight course. If a moun tain rangestood in theii way, they crossed in-stead of dcto uring arou nd it. Finallythey reached Gravelly Ford Crossingon the Humboldt River, at the presentsite of Beowawe, Nevada. Here theysplit into two parties. One party con-tinued along the Humboldt River, whilethe other group struck due north byway of the Black Rock Mountains.From the latter party a strange taleoriginated years later.

Leaving the Black Rock Mountainsbehind, the wagon train came to ahigh mountain range. The approach-ing slopes were gradual, and the partymanaged to reach the top with all thewagons. From this high point thewagon boss got a good view of thesurrounding country and took bearingson the Twin Sister Peaks. The westside of the mountain was found to bevery steep. In those days lock chainswere used as brakes, but they wouldnot serve here. Heavy timbers werecut and chained to the several wagons,and in this manner they made theirway down.

While the v/agons were being takendown the mountainside, camp wasmade at a spring in the canyon below.Some of the members of the party,

gathering wood for the campfire, pickedup pieces of metal that looked to themlike brass. These people were farmersand knew very little abo ut gold. Theydid not recognize the "pretty yellowrocks" as rich gold nuggets. The chil-dren picked up quite a few of the"peb bles" to play with. Several buck-ets were filled with them . Th e buck ets,like the wagons, were painted blue.While camped at the little spring,one of the women in the party becamesick and died. They buried her nearthe spring, heaping up rocks on thegrave, and left one of the little bluebuckets hanging on a branch as amarker. After successfully crossingthe mountain the little party continuedon its way, unaware of the fortuneswinging in the little blue buckets be-neath the wagons. The emigrants hadmore grief while crossing the DeschutesRiver. Th e wagons capsized, thebuckets were lost or their contentsspilled into the water . Only a few ofthe little yellow pieces of metalthose

the children were playing with or car-ried in their pocketswere saved.The party reached northwestern Ore-gon, settled on homesteads and im-mediately undertook the task of mak-ing a living in the wild, untrammeledwest. Several years later, a few ofthese settlers moved down to Sutter'sFor t in California. Here they saw thenuggets recovered by Marshall in themill race. The nugg ets looked just likethe little yellow rocks they had pickedup in eastern Orego n. Eventua lly theyobtained a few of the little stones from

friends who had remained in Oregon,and showed them to their newly madeacquaintances in California. They werepronounced p ure gold. So much ex-

Recently John D. Mitchell, whoselife-long hobby has been the col-lecting of lost mine and buriedtreasure tales, has arranged forthe publication of 51 of his storiesin book form on the Desert Maga-zine pre sses. This book is sched-uled for release in the early fallthis yea r. Follow ing is on e of thestories which will appear in thenew book, "Lost Mines and BuriedTreasures Along the Old Frontier."

citement was created by the discoverythat a party of 90 persons was im-mediately organized to return to south-eastern Oregon and search for therich ground that had now becomeknown as the Blue Bucket Placer.Hostile Indians soon put a damperon the par ty's intentions. The outfitwas ambushed, and more than half ofthe gold seekers were killed. Only twomen who knew, or thought they knew,the location of the golden canyon sur-vived to get back to California. Thesetwo were members of the original emi-grant party. The y died shortly after-wards due to hardships suffered onthe trip. Ho weve r, before they diedthey met and told a Dr. Drane ofYreka, California, the story and gavehim specific instructions how to findthe canyon in which they had foundthe nuggets.

Dr. Drane was running a store andhotel and doing some placer mining inaddition to his practice, and he wasloath to leave his business to travelnorth. A trapper from the HudsonBay country on his way to the Cali-fornia goldfields stopped at Yreka. Thedoctor showed him some of the goldnuggets that he daily washed out inhis sluice boxes. "If that's go ld," saidthe stranger, "I know where there's apile of it. In a steep walled can yonnortheast of here are lots of those yel-low stonessom e larger, some sm aller.A man could load two horses with allthey could carry in half a day. Wh y,you could just pick them up right outof the streambed."

The trapper, it seems, had winteredhis horses in the canyon and had foundthe gold there the following springwhen taking out the animals. Whilethe trapper was describing the place,the doctor recalled the story of thetwo sick men. Acco rding to the de-scription, the two places were identical.The interest of the doctor grew andgrew. Eventu ally, with two trustedfriends and the trapper, he set out tolook for the canyon. The trapperbacktracked by the dead embers ofhis campfires. No t until they reachedthe head of Goose Lake Valley did thedoctor know where he was going. From

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th e top of Warner Hil l he could see thesurrounding country and get his bear-ings.The trapper pointed out the twopeaks to the northeast about 120milesaway. "There , " he said, "That moun-tain off to the right is the one. The

H a r d K o c k S h o r t yofDeathValley"Skeeters?" said Hard RockShorty. "Su re, they usta be lotsof 'em in Death Valley. An' what

I mean, they really wuz skeeters.Climate down here agreed with'e m so well they kept growin'and along toward sundown everyday yu could see 'em flyingthrough the air big as turkeybuzzards." One o' them came flyin' overone day with a jackrabbit in itsclaws. Jest as it passed over Pis-gah Bill's cabin up at his mineon Eight Ball crick it lost its holton the animal an ' dropped it.Rabbi t wuz so scared it ran un-

der the house an' if Pisgah Billhadn't shoved some green fod-der under there it'd probablystarved to death."Then them over-sized insectsgot to worryin' Bill 's pack ani-malshis string o' burros . Pis-gah finally had to keep the jack-asses penned up in the minetunnel and let 'em out at nightto forage fer food."But that couldn't keep on, ferwe had to git the ore out to therailroad and bring in grub ferourse lves. Bill took along hisshotgun to keep the skeeter-hawks away. Comin' back hispack train wuz loaded withcorned beef and ham. 'Longtoward noon he got sleepy an'laid down under a mesquite treefer a snooze."While he wasasleep that flocko' skeeters swarmed in andcleaned up everything in thepacks. They got so full o' meatthey couldn't fly good and whenthey came to the Funeral rangethey couldn't quite git the eleva-tion an' all crashed into the sideo ' the mounta in. "

canyon lies on this side and to thenorth of it. That is where I put myhorses out to graze. The creek runsfull in the spring and is low in thefall. The canyon is level at the lowerend. There is a trail into it and plentyof grass. Theupper end is steep. Thewalls are so close together that it isabout all a man can do to get a horsethrough."The three men found the place justas described but were doomed to dis-appointment. A recent cloudburst hadplayed havoc with the canyon. Thestreambed was piled high with brush,boulders, and sand. The three menlooked long and hard, but not a traceof gold could they find. The doctornever doubted that they were in theright place, but then he might havebeen wrong. With their food supplyalmost gone, and being exhausted fromtheir long search, the trio reluctantlygave up.

Some 20 ormore years later, in 1879,a boy, G. S. Johnson, and a man,Wil-liam Adams, were traveling acrossOregon. From Malheur Lake theyheaded into and camped at the agencyof the Malheur Indian reservation.

Adams, an old California miner, likedthe looks of the rocks and formationsof the country in and around the oldagency buildings.The Malheur reservation at that timewas located where Harney, Grant, andMalheur Counties join. The agencywas located on the southwestern slopesof the Burnt River Mountains, west ofBuelah and north of Drewsey. At thattime white men were not allowed tostay very long on the reservation, or toprospect for minerals.Johnson remembered a conversa-tion with theagent while camped there.The agent had found piles of old rot-ten timbers, a grave by a spring anda wide deep track down the mountainabout three miles from the agency.The timbers had been used behindwagons for brakes and had cut a largeswath or road down the mountainside.Over 50 years later he heard the taleof theBlue Bucket Placer and recalledthe tale told by the agent.The story of Johnson should givenew hope to the seekers of the LostBlue Bucket Placer. The price is wellworth a thorough search of the localitydescribed by the Malheur agent.

P r i z e s f o r D e s e r t P i c t u r e s . . .Sure, it's hot on the desert. August is always a hot month. Butit also is a month of glorious sunsets, when some of the most striking

pictures of the year are possible. Also there are cool places on thedesert even in summerthose mountain top oases like Prescott andFlagstaff. So, we are awarding prizes again in August for the bestdesert photos submitted in thePicture-of-the-Month Contest. Anydesertsubject is suitable sunsets, cloud effects, rock formations, desertpeople, wildlife, rare botanical specimensunusual pictures of anykind so long as they were taken within the bounds of the desertSouthwest.Entries for the Augus t contest must be in the Desert Magazineoffice. Palm Desert, California, by August 20, and the winning printswil l appear in theOctober issue. Pictures which arrive toolate for onecontest are held over for the next month. First prize is $10; secondprize $5.00. For non-winning pictures accepted for publication $3.00each wil l bepaid.

HERE ARE THE RULES1Prints ior monthly contests must be black andwhite. 5x7 or larger, printedon glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplac e. Also technical data: came ra, shutter spee d, hour oi day. etc.3PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contestmonth.5Contests are open lo both amateur and professional photographers. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time andplace of photograph areimmaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7ludges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, andawards will be madeimmediately after theclose oi thecontest each month.

Address All Entries to Photo EditorISe&ent THaqofUte PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA18 DESERT MAGAZINE


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S E C O N D P R I Z E W M I M S T O R Y IN D E S E R T ' S 1 9 5 3 L I F E - O N - T H E D E S E R T C O N T E S TL I F E O H T H E D E S E R TBy RICH GIFFORD

This headline caught my interestRain Making to Receive ScientificAnalysis of U. S. Weather BureauAs I read the article my mind wentback 35 years to the day when I firstsaw Indian Charley, Indian MedicineMan and Rain Maker.I was alone in the store. It was toohot for customers. The sun blazeddown from a cloudless, indigo Colo-rado sky. Even the deep dust of theroad lay quiet in the stifling stillnessof that late August afternoon.The green of the hills had turnedto a dust-covered grey. The La P lata

River was a mere lazy trickle in thepatchwo rk of sun and shade. Thecottonwoods along its banks lookedthirsty and dejected. Crops lay parchedand dry in the fields. Th ere was notenough water in the river for irriga-tion. Th ere had been no relieving rainfor almost two months. If moisturedid not come soon, there would be nocrops to harvest in the fall. An d in thisisolated community, the storage ofthose crops for the long winter aheadwas almost life itself.Then out of the blue haze from thesouth he rod e. At first just a restlesscloud of dust, slowly moving up theroa d. Fain tly the figure of a man anda horse app eared . Du st stirred lazilyas they picked their way slowly up theroad. Gradually there emerged fromthe haze and dust the figure of a hugeman astride a pinto pony made smallby comparison with its rider's bulk.They came on jogging slowly throughthe hea t. As :hey passed the store andturned down toward the river, I couldsee that the rider was an Indian.As I watched them curiously, hedismounted, slipped the saddle andbridle from the horse, and threw themunder a tree. With a rope he stakedthe pony out where it could reach thewater and the yet green grass alongthe river bank . Only then did he turnand make his unhurried way back tothe store.Indians were common visitors inthose days, but I could not rememberhaving seen this one before. He wasa larger man than any I had met. Hewas better dressed, more prosperouslooking than most of the Indians inthe vicinity. An d he was more at easeand more friendly than most, with apleasant smile, and in his eyes was aglint of humor.In his ears, on his arms, around his

Here is an a m a z i n g story about the rain m a k i n g magic ofan Indian Medicine Man. All the known facts are givenin this manuscript. You ma y draw your ow n conclusionsas to the answ er to this strange riddle.neck, on his fingers, on his clothes,and bulging from his pockets wasjewelry. Indian jewelry of ham meredsilver and beautiful blue and greenturqu oise. With a grunt of greeting, heinstalled himself on the porch of thestore and spread out his wares for allour world to see and admire.

The hot afternoon wore on. Charleysat there and offered his wares to allwho came by. Some of the old timersknew him and stopped to say hello.Tourists stopped to admire his collec-tion and buy souvenirs. Only whenthe sun had dropped over the westernhills, did Charley move. Then he wentback down to the river where his ponywas tethered, and soon the dusk waspierced by the tiny pinpoint of hisflickering camp fire.In a short time, the embers of thelittle fire died out and Charley and hispony shared a resting place beneaththe cottonwoods, under the open sky.Every morning Charley brought hisdisplay back to the porch of the storeand each night his fire could be seenthrough the trees down by the riverbank.And then one morning, Charley andhis little pony w ere gone. Only thedead ashes of the deserted camp fireshowed where they had been. The oldtimers nodded knowingly. "Th ere'llbe rain soon ," they said. Bu t theblazing sun shown down out of abright, blue, cloudless sky, and itseemed even hotter, even drier.Two days had passed since Charleyhad moved on , and still no rain. Thesun sank sharp, clear, and burning hotin the west.Suddenly, in the middle of the night,I was awakened by the soft patter of

rain on the roof and the steady drip,drip of water from the eaves. An dthe next morning it was still raining.Softly, gently, but steadily. Th e skieswere gray as yesterday's dust, whichwas rapidly becoming a sea of mud.But our world was again fresh andhopeful.Through the rain, Charley cameriding down out of the hills. He wassoaked to the skin. His pinto ponywas wet and bedraggled, and its tinyfeet splashed throug h the mu d. Theyshould have looked depressed, but theydidn 't. The re was an air of pride andtriumph in the way the pony daintilypicked its way through the puddlesand in the way Charley rode.

Charley waved as he passed, andhe smiled exultantly, but he kept righton riding. No time for trading now .He was riding south to his home, andto his friendsan d to collect his fees.For as he made his triumphal waydown through the valleys and canyons,he would stop at each Indian home.He would be entertained, praised andgiven pres ents. He would receive morejewelry to hang about his person andto bulge his pockets.Because once again, Indian Charley,their Medicine Man, had made strongmedicine to their gods, and those godshad smiled on him. They had sent thelife-giving moisture in answer to hisprayers. The crops would mature thisfall, and there would be plenty in thestore rooms for the winter ahead. In-dian Charley had once more broughtthe rains.

This was my first meeting and firstexperience with Indian Charley, theRain Maker. But through the yearsto come I was to look forward to hiscoming and to his bringing the fallrain. No t always did we have theburning dry spell in the autumn, andnot always was Charley called upon tomake rain. But, more frequently thannot, July and August were blisteringand arid, and when that happened,Charley would come riding out of thesouth, his immense bulk dwarfing hislittle Indian pony, a confident smileon his face, and loads of jewelry to beshown and sold.Always, a few days of trading andvisiting, and Charley and his pintowould quietly disappear into the hills.Where? No one ever knew. But al-ways, within 24 to 48 hours, he wouldride back out of the hills, drenchedwith rain and triumphant.Many an argument waged about thepot-bellied stove those long winter eve-nings. Was Charley a Rain Maker?Or did he just know his weather signs?Was his stop for trading just a pauseto wait for the signs to be right? Orwas it just a part of his routine? Ordid he really believe in his strongmedicine? An d in its pow er to swayhis gods into sending the rain? Thesequestions were never settled to myknow ledge. But the old timers and

the Indians were willing to leave thequestions unanswered. They knewthat when Charley rode into the hills,the rains were on their way.A U G U S T , 1 9 5 3 19


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South Pass City on Willow Creek. The Carissa mine is on the hill in the back-ground.

Historic Pass in theWind River Country ...Mountain Men, gold-seekers.

Mormons, westbound colonistsall of them in years past have fol-lowed the old trail through theContinental Divide at South Pass,Wyoming. Today the old wagonroad is paralleled in many placesby a modern paved highwayand many of the motorists whofollow this historic route today arein search of the gemstone cuttingmaterial of which Wyoming has agreat abundance. Here is a fieldtrip story that includes some inter-esting sidelights on the history ofthe great American westward trek.

By JAY ELLIS RANSOMPhotographs by the author

Map by Norton AllenT WAS LATE at night when Ifirst met Fred Stratton, ex-news-paperman, rock collector, store-keeper and postmaster at Siouth PassCity, Wyoming. Frances end I hadarrived in South Pass looking for ac-commodations for the night.

Since the only light was in the SouthPass Trading Company's store, I en-tered, and found myself in a typicalfrontier trading post crude plankshelves piled high with food and cloth-ing, and pots, pans, hardware, snow-

shoes and kerosene lamps hangingfrom pegs in the walls.Hearing me, Fred Stratton, in denimshirt and levis, stuck his head out of aback room. "Hello," 1 said. "Howschances to find accommodations formy wife and myself?"He came out, all six feet of him,sandy haired, his blue eyes twinklingin the light of a 40-watt bulb suspendedfrom the ceiling."Got any blankets?" he asked. "I'vea cabin you can use." I shook my

head. "Well, there's the CarpenterHotel four miles farther on at AtlanticCity. Better phone to see if there's avacancy. I know for a fact that they're20 DESERT MAGA ZI NE


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4, standing on the crest of South Pass,Dr. Whitman took possession of all theland, afterward divided up into Wyo-ming, Utah and Idaho, in the nameof God and the United States.From 1862 to 1868 savage Indianwars swept the region north of thePlatt. The Sioux scourged the emi-grant trails under Red Cloud, forcingwithdrawal of all whites from the ter-ritory. Then a new route was sur-veyed far to the south, by way ofDenver, over which the Union Pacificrailroad was constructed in 1868.Thereafter, South Pass began to fadefrom the scene as an emigrant trail.Meanwhile, in 1842 gold was foundalong the Sweetwater. It was not un -til 1860-'62 that thousands of fren-zied miners settled South Pass Cityand adjacent Atlantic City. Tom Ryan,a soldier in the Nevada Volunteers,discovered the fabulously rich Carissalode on the hill above South Pass Cityin 1865. In the fall of 1952 when Ivisited the region, ore was still beingproduced that ran $1500 a ton. Du r-ing the 1930s, placer mining in At-lantic City lined the stream bed withmiles of heaped up detritus.Because of the influx of settlers toSouth Pass, Wyoming was made aTerritory in 1869. Outstanding amongthe first acts of the lawmakers wasthe granting of suffrage to women, anidea that originated at the Esther Mor-ris Tea Party in South Pass City.The militant Esther Morris, then 57years old, was immediately elected thenation's first justice of the peace. Sheheld court in her log home sitting be-hind a log slab bench, wearing a sober

Fred Stratton, postmaster and store-keeper at South Pass City, whoknows where the gem fields are lo-cated. He stands beside a markererected by his grandfather on theold Oregon Trailcalico gown, green ribbons in her hair,a green necktie and the look of ajustice wh o mea nt business. Of theseventy-odd cases she tried, not onewas ever reversed.In the morning, Frances and I setout for South Pass City to take ad-vantage of Fred Stratton's invitation.

He was waiting for us at his store. "Noneed to keep regular hours," he said"It's the only store in 50 miles andcustomers are used to waiting.""I like to roam the hills," he added."Here, I'll show you some rocks I'vefound."From behind the counter he broughtout several boxes of fine specimens inthe rough. He hefted some ebonyblack agatized wood. "Fr om the Ore -gon Buttes a few miles west of SouthPass," he explaine d. "If you folkshave time, we might take a run overth ere . . . "He showed me massive tourmaline,and shortite crystals in shale that arepeculiar to Wyom ing. These crystalsare shape d like small triangles. H ehad several pounds of sheet mica, andall kinds of Indian artifacts from ar-rowheads to hide scrapers and stoneax heads. "R eal old time Indiancoun try," he pointed out. "M y grand-father settled here . I'll show you themonument he carved and set up atBurnt Ranch in 1913."There was searlesite from nearby."Around here is the third known oc-currence of the mineral," Fred ex-plained. "N ote how much longer thefibers are than that which comes fromSearles La ke in California. Th en, ofcourse, there's jade," he fondled somespecimens -of dark green rock, "an dthe Wyoming jade fields are only 40miles south of here."Fred next showed me petrified al-gae in massive occurrence, also fromthe Orego n Butte area. Of severalboxes of varicolored petrified woodchips, he said: "W hole logs of this

Where the old emigrant trains camped at the crossing of the Sweetwater, on theOregon Trail.

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These two monuments stand at the summit of the historic South P ass throughthe Continental Divide in Wyoming.wood can be found on the divide be-tween Hall and Twin Creeks a couplemiles from here . It's really beautifulwhen polished."Then we go: into my car and headedfor historic points of interest. Fr edknew all the unmapped side roads,sheepherder's trails, and antelope feed-ing grounds in the country. As he in-dicated the proper turns, he explainedhis reasons lor returning to SouthPass.

"1 got tired of the Big City and ofreporting for the San Francisco Chron-icle. I've had a hankering for theWind River country ever since I leftit as a boy . I do n't regret com ingback; a man gets used to not havingbig city conve nien ces." He let his blueeyes rove north to the jagged peaksscraping the deep blue sky. "T hecountry becomes a part of you aftera while," he said, softly. "An yway ,I bought out the South Pass TradingCompanyit hasn't been closed since1864 and in my spare time, I'mwriting a book about this region."

At Burnt Ranch on the Sweetwatergrass was knee deep, tipped with fallbrown . We'd no more than come toa halt than Fred pointed out the win-dow. "L oo k!" he said. A band ofperhaps 50 antelope swung up fromwater and lined out across the meadow

200 yards distant. Curious, theystopped to look at us. Then with aflashing of white rumps they boundedaway over the hill and disappeared.We found historic Burnt Ranchmuch as it must have been after theSioux burned it out nearly a centuryago. Two tumbledown log buildingsremained.Getting out, Fred led us down themeadow to his grandfather's monu-men t. To the west a little farther wevisited the last emigrant crossing ofthe Sweetwater, a stream about 15 feetwide at this poin t. The ford led to abroad circular bare spot a hundred ormo re feet in diam eter. "T he old emi-grant wagon circle," Fred explained."Still waiting for the wagons that willnever come again."

To one side he showed us the crudegrave and marker of the first whitewoman, a Mrs. Brian, to perish onthe Oregon Trail. The marker wasscratched with the date, July 25, 1845.Out of the circular camp ground,the emigrant wagon tracks climb asteep grade . Return ing to the car, wedrove over a more accessible dirt roadtill we came to South Pass, a barrenplateau of sun, wind and space. Irealized why there seemed to be nomountains; at 7805 feet we were ontop of them.

Two lonely markers stand on theContinental Divide commemorating theOregon Trail. Beyond, the ancientwagon road, still undisturbed bymodern man, winds toward PacificCreek . Fa rth er on, it parallels themodern paved highway new since1950 that crosses the mountainsfrom Farson to Lander. I looked atFred Stratton, bronzed by sun andwind. His roots were here, in its his-tory. He pointed to the glacieredpeaks, 20 miles north."Over there," he said, "the Govern-ment has set aside the greatest primi-tive area in America, the Wind RiverWilderness, it's called, as free of roads,camps, towns or buildings as it waswhen the uninhibited Mountain Mentrapped its farthest reaches."He paused, thinking. "Tell yourfriends to come see me next summer.There's history enough here to inter-est everyo ne. Th ere's millions of plainand fancy rocks to keep even the mostardent collector quiet for a while, andI'll even help 'em find some. An dif anybody wants to bring a trailer,why he can stop in town, or over onthe Sweetwater where the emigrants

camped a hundred years ago, and stayas long as he likes. The re's nob odyto tell him what to do or not to do,'cepting his own conscience . . ."A U G U S T , 1 9 5 3 23


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T/Zttacie

Desert Star Cactus Photographed by Claire Meyer ProctorDESERT SUNSET

By GEORGIA SULLIVANMarshall, MissouriHere on the pottery of this desert land,A masterpiece eludes the artist's hand.Only the singing heart can hope totraceA close communion in this air-boundplace.Low inthe East, alullaby ofblue,Hushed to a tranquil grey andpurplehue,Stirred with a daylight finger on thecrest,Signals the storied crimson inthe West.Far inthe global arch acalmness spreads.Mending the darkened clouds withgentle threadsOf fantasy. And insoft sky-suspensionTempers the colored song tosoul di-mension.

THE LAST BURROBy JOHN VICTOR SPEIRSLake Sherwood, CaliforniaWith hisback to a boulder huge andgray

In the fading light of adying dayAn ancient burro stood atbay.In a semi-circle upon the sand.With apatience born in apatient land,Sat and waited acoyote bandOn the desert.And they watched the burro with ambereyesWhile the sunslid down in thewesternskies.And who is tosay there was notregretAs the burro watched his last sunsetOn the desert.When thehills moved upward and met thesunAs if at a signal when day was doneThe coyotes moved inone by one.Then the sundipped downward its faceto hideAnd thedarkness fell on thecountrysideRedly the sunset also diedOn the desert.

By SARAH SALINGERSanta Barbara, CaliforniaA cactus grew on adesert wasteWhere wind and sun together wroughtA wilderness, that no one sought.There was no sign ofbird ortreeOr desert grassjust stars atnightTo make the lonely desert bright.Through heat ofday and cold ofnightThe cactus grewa patient thingWithout asign of blossoming.Then magically, within itsheartA promise stirred, of life-to-beTo set the cactus spirit free.The cactus must have understoodIt trusted stars tocount the hourWhen from itsbreast would bloom aflower.

HIGH VIEWBy MADELEINE FOUCHAUXLos Angeles, California

Watch from a mountain at the close of day:Across the desert hills soft colors flow,Merging with purple shades, while far awayTall peaks are lit with sunset's rosy glow.Watch from a mountain as the sun goesdown:Long shadows reach to grasp the waninglight,Drawing the miles of noon-day's dustybrownInto the tranquil indigo ofnight.Watch from a mountain as thevelvet domeIs lanterned by a million stars, low-hungAbove a valley where theocean foamOnce flecked blue waters when the landwas young.Now in thedesert night, each roundedduneSleeps undisturbed beneath the great,white moon.TIME

By ETHEL K. LACEYEaston, ConnecticutUntil 1 stood upon the Canyon brink.Beholding the result, superb, sublime,Of ceaseless toil by sun and wind andrain,I'd never given too much thought toTIME.It took that matchless length andbreadthand depthTo make merealize howslow andstillThe grind of centuriesEternityHow short my span of life to doHis will.

*By TANYA SOUTH

Extreme privation need deterNo one, with courage toexploreThe inner depths. All things aremeasuredIn God. Allupward effort treasured.Think notbecause you areoppressed,Or feel anoutcast, that your lotMust be all thwarted anddistressed.If you have striven hard, andsoughtThe higher Light, that shall you gain.The things we strive for, we attain.

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James White's River Trip . . .Monrovia, CaliforniaDesert:In the October, 1952 issue of DesertMagazine, I was keenly interested inRandall Henderson's story, " 'Glen Can-yon Voyage," in which he referred toT. M. Brown, promoter, and RobertBrewster Stanton, chief engineer, inthe railway survey of the ColoradoRiver territory.I personally had contact with Mr.Stanto n. It was in 1907 that he madea special trip to my old home townof Trinidad, Colorado, in search ofone James White who was accred-ited with being the first man to navi-

gate the Colorado River through theGrand Cany on. The hotel where Mr.Stanton was registered referred him tome, as I was operating a public steno-graphic office at the time and had abroad acquaintance among the towns-people.It so happened that I did knowJames Wh ite. We called him Old Jim.He drove a two-horse express wagon,transporting trunks and baggage fromthe railroad depot to hotels.As far as I know. Old Jim neverbragged or mentioned the escapades

of his past life to anyon e. I introducedhim to Stanton who asked him if hewas the James White who had beenthe first white man to run the GrandCanyon of the Colora do. Old Jim.dubious of Stanton, answered, "yep."He remained dubious until Stantonpressed a $20 gold piece into his hand.Jim then consented to tell his storythat night in his home.That evening after supper I escortedStanton to Old Jim's and heard the oldman relate his harrowing experienceriding a raft down the Colorado . Be-

lieve me, it would be a thriller in to-day's movies! The interview tookabout an hour and a half, after whichStanton and I returned to my office,where I typed Ihe story on 11 single-spaced pages. At 2:30 a.m. Stantonwas on a Santa Fe limited headed forNew York.Several weeks later I received aletter from him stating he was finish-ing a compilation of geological, geo-graphical and historical facts of theWest for publication and requestingmy help. He wanted me to ask Old

Jim a few more questions and advisedme that as soon as the publication wasprinted he would mail me a copy. Ireturned the answers to his question.

but I never received any copy of Rob-ert Brewster Stanton's Historical Factsand Records.Several years ago I wrote to theNational Geographic Research Depart-ment but was advised that they had norecord of the story of Jim White's ex-perience.If any of your readers know Stan-ton's book and where I might see acopy, I would appreciate hearing fromthem. R O Y L A P P I NA full record of White's story isgiven by Dr. C. C. Parry, assistantgeologist of the Union Pacific Rail-way survey, in William A. Bell's"New Tracks in North America,"published in 1869. Most of thosewho have argued the pros and consof White's story agree that he navi-gated only a section of the lowercanyon above Callville. Rocky Mountain Canaries . . .Hayward, CaliforniaDesert:I am getting quite a kick out of theRocky Mountain Canary controversy.I never knew that the burro was any-thing but an exotic critter on the des-ert.If all the wild burros in the GrandCanyon had been permitted to live andincrease unhampered, they and allother fauna would have starved todeath many years ago. Even the liz-ards would have been short of forage.

H. F. LAUZAN Jackrabbit Homestead Sites . . .Camp Wood, ArizonaDesert:I often have wondered why morefive-acre homesteaders have not foundtheir way into this isolated area. Jack-rabbit homesteads are available herein canyons where water can be had orpumped onto the land, where the cli-mate allows an eight-month growingseason, where fruit trees thrive andhave heavy crops. It is a good placeto raise rabbits or chickens.We have an altitude of 3500 to4500 feet, and the climate is ideal.There are no telephones, the mail routeis 20 or 25 miles away. The re are noroads to the homestead sites, but if agroup worked together, roads couldbe built.This area is a great place for rock-houn ds. Some parts can be had formining claims, since gem stones canbe found and mined in veins of rock.Not far from here are several largeminesthe Bagdad Copper Mine, theHillside Mine and others. The canyon

for five-acre homesteads lies about 12miles north and 15 miles west of thesemines. MRS. BERTHA E. SCHELL

Desert River Rat . . .Arcadia, CaliforniaDesert:Congratulations on Desert Maga-zine's fine cover for June.Art Greene is certainly a living sym-bol of our grand desert and openspaces, and your June cover is a fittingtribute to him.Like many others, I have had thegood fortune to spend a little time withArt and his fine family at Cliff Dwel-lers Lodge, where friendliness andhospitality are unsurpassed.LAWRENCE L. BROWN Rattlers at High Noon . . .Tucson, ArizonaDesert:I was interested in the editorial noteto Charles D. Mandly's letter regard-ing rattlesnakes, as printed in the Juneissue of Desert. I too had always heardthat rattlers were never found out inthe open in the hot sun, especiallynear midday when the rays are mostpowerful. This I believed until thefollowing incidents convinced me thatat least there are exceptions to thisrule.Nora and Bill Williams of Everett,Washington, my wife and I of Tucson,were returning to camp at high noonon March 27, 1949. The location wasabout 15 miles southeast of La Paz,Baja California. We had hiked abou tfour miles down this large arroyo orsand wash to the Gulf of California,taking pictures of wild palm andstrangler fig trees. The tem peratu rewas intense, the sun beating down froma cloudless sky.Suddenly I yelled: "Lo ok out,Nora!" There, stretched full length,lay a rattlesnake . One step more andNora's foot would have landed directlyon the snake's tail.We killed the snake, then stoodabout marveling at its protective color-ing which blended perfectly with thelight brownish white of decomposedgranite.Three days later, driving throughcountry where shimmering heat wavesrose steadily from the sand dunes, wenoticed a movement in the otherwiselifeless dese rt. Stop ping to investigate,we saw an unusually large rattler try-ing to catch a mouse in a large sanddepression. The rattler would glideup to the mouse which would make amad scramble up the sides of softsand. The tiny rode nt would almostreach safety when the sand would cavein. Then the terrified anim al wou ldhalf jump, half fall over the snake andrace to the other side. This evidentlyhad been going on for some time, asthe side-to-side tracks criss-crossed adozen times.

(A reader)A U G U S T , 1 9 5 3


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From Minersville to Vanderbilt . . .San Bernardino, CaliforniaDesert:Nell Murbarger's interesting articlein June's Desert featuring the littletown of Minersville, Utah, had a pe-culiar interest for me, although I havenever been in Minersville. It carriedme back to the early '90s when I was

working in the then booming camp ofVanderbilt, in northeastern San Ber-nardino County, California.A Paiute Indian (or maybe he wasa Shoshone) named Bob Black foundthe Vanderbilt ore, and he carried hissamples back north with him, to whatdestination I know not, but I do knowthat Utah capital figured largely infinancing and developing many ofVanderbilt's mines. As a result, therewas quite an influx of Utah miners tothe new camp.I became acquainted and talked withmany of them and learned with someastonishment that practically all ofthem came from the same place Minersville, Utah.At that time I had never heard ofMinersville. And, to tell the truth, Ihave never heard of it since until NellMurbarger so vividly and surprisinglybrought it back to my memory.The Vanderbilt boom didn't lastlong, and in a brief while those Mor-mon miners returned to their hometown.In recent years I have visited theold camp a time or two. There is very

little left to remind me of the busylittle town of 60 years agoa fewtottering headframes over mining shaftsand some concrete foundations, noth-ing more. CHARLES BATTYE Treasure Hunt for Fun . . .Kirbyville, TexasDesert:When I married my husband in1950, he had spent 35 years huntingburied treasure. It wasn't long afterour marriage that I was initiated intothe treasure-hunting game.We had met a man who said heknew where some treasure was buriedin southeast Texas. He said he wouldshow my husband where it was if wewould finance the trip. Of course myhusband couldn't resist.

We bought a new car and a newtrailer and started out. Trouble waswith us from the beginning cartrouble, an accident with the trailer,more car trouble. We finally reachedKirbyville, Texas, where we were tostart looking for the treasure. Onlythen did we learn that our guide'sstory was based on a vision he hadhad and the vision could carryus no farther. My husband could haveshot him.

Our funds were about gone. Myhusband stayed and prospected alongthe Sabin and Natches rivers, and Ireturned home to Los Angeles.I learned the hard way that dreams,visions and wishful thinking won'tcreate riches. This treasure huntingbusiness is all right for fun, but notfor bread-and-butter living. If you can

afford a treasure-hunting trip, fine; butbe satisfied to come home empty-handed with the mem

195308 desertmagazine 1953 august

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