194304 desert magazine 1943 april

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T H E

M A G A Z I N E

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jbeiett Beetled,By DICK FREEMAN

Los Angeles, CaliforniaFirst prize winner in Desert Maga-

zine's February photographic contestshows two beetles, locally known asstink bugs, devouring an apple coreat Split Mountain canyon, Borregovalley. Taken with a 31/4x41/4 SpeedGraph ic on Panatom ic X cut film. Nofilter, bright morning sunlight, 1/10

sec. at f32. Zeiss Tessar 3.5 lens,double extension bellows.

9+tdiian.By VIRGIL FORDTrona, California

This portrait of Indian George ofDeath Valley won second prize inthe monthly contest. (See DesertMagazine, February, 1940, for storyof Indian George Kansen.) Takenwith a 4x5 Spee d G raphic Kodak F 4.5lens. Ex. diffused light 1 50 at 8.8.

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D E S E R T

Glade- Typical of men the desert breeds isDad Fairbanks, knownto everyone whoknows Death Valleyand the Mojave.Hisexperiences with earlyday Indians andprospectors and his pioneering days atShoshone will he related by WilliamCaruthers in Desert Magazine soon.

Charles Kelly's hobbyof hunting oldinscriptions in the Southwest has led himinto some fascinatingand remote corners.In an early issue, he will tell DesertMagazine readers about someof theoldest and most interesting oneshe hasdiscovered in Wyoming, Idaho, Utah,Nevada, New Mexico and Arizona.

Color of the desert is one of its mostsubtle, baffling qualities.But there is ascientific explanation of itand the morewe know about the luminous bluesha-dows, the rosy hazes, brilliant red and

orange skies, the more we will appre-ciate the unique color harmoniesof theSouthwest. Jerry Laudermilkhas madedrawings especiallyto illustrate his forth-coming story on the subject.

Margaret Stone,who has written thismonth's story about the Pahute Indiansof Nevada, is one of the best knownwhite women among the Southwesttribes. She has lived among them asfriend and adviser. She has been withthem in their triumphs and their trage-dies; she has known them in their dailylives and their ceremonial rites. Latershewill make Desert readers better acquainted with the Papago Indians of Arizonaand the Laguna tribe of New Mexico.

Last July, Desert publisheda storywhich aroused more comment than nearlyany other in five years of publication"Beauty is not in faces. But in the heartsof men." Phil K. Stephens, author-engineer, wrote this as the first of atrilogy. The second, depicting theCourage of the Desert, will appearshortly; and the third. Kindness of theDesert, is in preparation.

Tom Terris, noted radio vagabondadventurer, will be introduced for thefirst time to Desert readers, whenhisprize story, "The Canyon of Death" ispublished this spring. Illustrations weredrawn by the Navajo artist CharlesKeetsie Shirley.

THIS MONTH'SCOVER PHOTO . . .

One of the most dramaticand effectiveof desert Easter serviceshas been heldin Death Valley and has been nationallybroadcast. The first sunrise servicewasheld in 1929 by the late H. W. Eich-baum, builder and owner of Stove PipeWells hotel.

No other servicewas held until1934,the year after Death Valley nationalmonument was established. Until lastyear, thev were conducted annuallyby aCCC chaplain witha choir of CCC boysand instrumental music.The park serv-

ice was obliged to discontinue the serv-ices last year upon removalof the CCC.No service will be held this Easter.

Volume 6 APRIL, 1943 Number 6

COVER

PHOTOGRAPHY

CLOSE-UPS

HISTORY

PERSONALITY

TRUE OR FALSE

GEMS

HUMOR

INDIANS

CACTUS

DISCOVERY

CONTEST

BOTANY

ART OF LIVING

NEWS

BOOKS

HOBBY

CRAFTS

MINING

COMMENT

POETRY

DEATH VALLEY EASTER. Photo by Fr as her s.

Prize winn ers in Feb rua ry contest 2

Notes on Deser t features and their wri ters . . . 3

Whe n Scalp Hunters Ran the Yu ma Ferr yboat

By ARTHUR WO OD WA RD 4

MeetChalfant of Inyo

By MOR A M. BROWN 9

A test of you r deser t kn ow le dg e 12

Precious Opal of the Virgin ValleyBy LELANDE QUIC K 13

Har d Rock Shorty of Dea th Val leyBy LON GARR ISON 15

Craftsman of the PahutesBy MARGAR ET STONE 16

Six Mem ber s of the Cac tus Cl anBy MISS J. CASE Y 20

Spanish Inscription in the Big CarrisoBy RICHARD VAN VALKENBURGH . . . 22

Landmark contest announcement . . . ? . . 25

Basket Maker and Thirst Quencher for the IndianBy MARY BEAL 26

D es er t Ref uge, b y M AR SH AL SOU TH . . . . 27

Her e an d Ther e on the Deser t 29

Sad dle an d the Plow, an d other revi ews . . . . 3 2

Gems and MineralsEdit ed by ARTHUR L. EATO N 33

Amateur Gem Cutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . . 36

Briefs from the des ert 37

Just Between You and Meby the Edi tor . . . 38

Desert Easter, an d other po em s 39

The Desert Magazineis published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company,636State Street, El Centro, California. Enteredas second class matter October11, 1937, atthe post office at El Centro, California, underthe Act of March 3, 1879. Title registeredNo. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1943 by the Desert PublishingCompany. Permission^to reproduce contents mustbe secured from the editor in writing.

RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor.LUCILE HARRISand HARRY SMITH, Associate Editors.

BESS STACY, Business Manager. EVONNE HENDERSON, Circulation Manager.Manuscripts and photographs submitted mustbe accompanied by full return post-

age. The Desert Magazine assumesno responsibility for damage or loss of manuscriptsor photographs althoughdue care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address to the circulation Hepartmentby the fifth of the monthpreceding issue.

SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne year $2.50

Canadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extra.Address correspondence to D esert Magazine,636 State St., El Centro, California.

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Old Fort Yuma on the blujj above the Colorado river.

When ScalpHunters Ranthe Yuma Ferryboat

When John Glanton and his scalp-hunting rene-gades reined their horses at the Yuma crossing ofthe Colorado river in February, 1850, they en-visioned a gold mine in the ferry being operated by

D r. A. L. Lincoln. Glanton promptly a nnou nced him-self as a partner who would henceforth see that theferry service was "managed properly." His exorbi-tant rates, often collected with gangster methods,and his ruthless elimination of competitors broughtabout a situation which compelled government ac-tion and the eventual establishment of Fort Yuma.

By ARTHUR WOODWARD

THE morning of April 23, 1850, three white men,members of the renegad1; band of John A. Glanton'sband of Apache scalp hunters, burst from the willow

thickets fringing the Colorado and raced for the protection ofthe rude ferry buildings some 300 yards away. Fear spurred

their heels. As they emerged into the open a sleet of Yuma wararrows flickered around them like grey streaks of deadly rain.William Carr, one of the men, took an arrow in his left leg but

he dared not pause to remove it. His companions, Marcus L.Webster and Joseph A. Anderson, were firing erratically at theswarm of 40-odd Yuma warriors baying at their heels.

A few musket and pistol shots smacked flatly on the warm

air, and white bolls of wooly black powder smoke blossomedunnaturally among the arrowweed and mesquite thickets. Be-fore they reached the huts more Indians appeared and the pant-ing men ran for the protection of thejacales in the Mexicancamp not far from the ferry. The doors were tightly closed andthe terrified inmates would not admit the refuge:s. The riverwas their last resort and the all but exhausted men fell into asmall boat and pushed off into the stream.

Although they were unaware of it, they were at that momentthe sole survivors of the Lincoln-Glanton ferry company whichfor about 14 months had been reaping a rich reward of inflatedferry fares from unfortunate gold hunters and home seekingemigrants crossing into California, via the southern route.

The ferry had started honorably enough as a legitimate busi-ness financed and operated by Dr. A. L. Lincoln, who is saidto have been a distant relative of Abraham Lincoln. Dr. Lin-coln had been in Mexico and late in 1849 started overland forCalifornia. He reached the Colorado the latter part of Decem-

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ber and seeing the possibility of a ferry at the junction of theGila and Colorado rivers, built a few mud and pole buildingson the California side just below the present site of Fort Yuma.Little did he dream that in a trifle more than a year his deathand that of a gang of lawless renegades would be the direct causefor the establishment of a United States military post erected toguard the destinies of all future emigrants seeking admissionto the Golden Land.

Dr. Lincoln began operation about January 1, 1850. Heseems to have been a fair man, but too m ild for a frontier fer-ryman. He employed three or four men to help him. Theytreated the Indians fairly and there was no trouble along theriver.

On February 12, 1850, John A. Glanton, a blackleg lawyerfrom Tennessee and more lately from San Antonio, Texas, andstill more lately from the state of Chihuahua, Mexico, and hislawless mob reined their jaded horses on the Arizona shoreand waited for the ferry. There were nine men in Glanton'sgang. Most of them were from Texas and Missouri. They werea ruthless, quick shooting, hard fighting lot. Their most re-cent income had been from the sale of human hair.

Originally they had hired out to the state of Chihuahua tocollect Apache scalps on a sliding scale of prices ranging from$25 for children through $50 for women and $100 for men.

It was easy money for these border ruffians, some of whom hadseen service in the Mexican war and had lived by their witssince the close of the conflict. Temptation urged them to sellto the Mexican officials any locks of black hair that might befound and when the purchasers discovered to their horror thatcertain of the Mexican population of Chihuahua were reporteddead and scalped, the finger of suspicion pointed bloodily atGlanton and his crew. Without more ado the scalp hunters, inthe parlance of the day, "sloped" for California where goldcould be picked up from the ground or out of miner's pokeswith a minimum of effort.

Glanton watched Dr. Lincoln operate for a week or so andsaw that here was a golden opportunity if the ferry were prop-erly managed. Glanton told Dr. Lincoln that he had a partnerand thenceforth the ferry fares were collected by Glanton'smen. The prices for crossing were exorbitant but since this wasthe only ferry in operation at that time, the unfortunate goldseekers were forced to pay or sit and starve on the Arizonashore. The majority paid and their grumblings were silenced bythe sneers of the ferrymen and the tacit threats of lost baggageand revolvers prominently displayed in the waist bands of therenegade conductors. Thus Dr. Lincoln became a silent partner.No doubt he wished to be free of this obnoxious gang but therewas no escape.

Money rolled in. It is said that the gang possessed some $50,-000 in silver and $20,000 to $30,000 in gold when the blowfell. It is known that prior to the sudden uprising of the YumaIndians, Glanton and his men had deposited between $6,000and $9,000 with Judge Benjamin Hayes of San Diego and had

left a herd of 22 mules and horses in that town as well.Trouble with the Indians began when a General Andersonfrom Tennessee who refused to pay the toll demanded forcrossing on the Glanton-Lincoln ferry went down stream andbuilt a boat. He crossed all of his stock and outfit and thenturned the ferry over to the Yuma Indians under their leaderPascual with the stipulation that the Indians should not chargetravelers more than $1 per person, $1 per animal and $1 perpack. This ferry was six miles distant from Glanton's establish-ment. To better facilitate intercourse with the whites the Indi-ans hired an Irishman, Callahan, to operate the ferry for them.

Naturally Glanton would not tolerate a competitor, moreparticularly when the competitor was an Indian. Accordingly,the Irishman was killed and robbedand the murder was laidat the door of the Indians. The Indian ferry was mysteriouslydestroyed. Chief Caballo Sin Pelo went to Glanton and remon-strated. He offered to operate with the white men. The Indianswould herd all animals safely across the river and Glanton

could collect for the wagons and the people. This offer in-furiated Glanton. He made the mistake of whipping CaballoSin Pelo with a stick and then kicking him out of the house.

That manhandling of Caballo Sin Pelo, head of the Yumanation, was the death warrant of all the white ferrymen on theColorado. The Indians bided their time. They knew a frontalattack would be fatal. Their only weapons were long arrowswith fire hardened points, and the heavy potato masher shapedwar clubs. Against the repeating revolvers and straight shootingrifles of the Americans those primitive weapons would be oflittle use. Indian-like they took their insults into their heartswhere the verdigris of hate cankered and corroded.

They watched and waited.The morning of April 23 the ferry force was divided. There

had been 15 men all told at the ferry. One of these men hadgot into trouble at San Diego and had gone north to Los An-geles. On this day six men had crossed the stream in a boat to

"Three while men . . . burst from the willow thicketsiringing the Colorado and raced for the protection of the

rude jerry buildings . . ."

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wading in water up to their thighs for miles at a stretch. A cur-rent news account of the day stated "All officers of the armyengaged in their suppression unite in the opinion that theYumas are 'some' and that a harassing border Indian war willfor a long time continue to furnish them with ample professionalemployment." On October 11, 1852, Major Heintzleman issuedan order announcing the termination of hostilities with theriver tribesmen. "The recent expedition has resulted in theirentire subjection to the United States authority. To continue thisgood understanding the Indians must be treated with justiceand kindness."

Although Indian troubles virtually ceased the garrison atFort Yuma had other matters to engage their attention. Incom-ing travelers swarmed into the post garden, as a result of whichthe ferry company was forced to move downstream to a pointwithin a half mile of old Camp Independence.

This was good for the vegetables but the officers and menmissed the excitement of the ferry where hundreds of men,women and children as well as thousands of animals crossedeach month.

On the 26th of October shortly after the end of the Indianwar misfortune again fingered the miserable collection of hutscomprising the fort. The bang of the musket of sentry on Post

Number 3 and the dread shout of "Fire," brought everyone outof quarters. D company's kitchen was aflame. In a short time Dcompany's quarters went up in a blaze. The huts occupied by Hcompany along with the kitchen were next to go. The guardhouse burst into flame and as the men were fighting the blazein I company's quarters the cry was raised that the commissarystore house was on fire.

The last information brought terror to every face. In thatbuilding were all the commissary stores and what was worsethere were two barrels of cannon powder and about 40 boxesof ammunition. Major Heintzleman and Lt. Sweeney rushedfor the flaming building calling on a detail of soldiers to followthem. Only a few of the old soldiers responded, but even theypaused at the door. It was a dramatic moment. The two offi-cers were the only men inside the building. The roof drippedfire. Large flakes of burning material were falling down uponthe boxes and barrels. Frantically the officers brushed the sparksaside.

"For God's sake go get some men," shouted Heintzelman.Sweeney dashed out and rounded up some soldiers who were

on the opposite side of the hill and marched them back into theburning building. The two officers remained in the hut until thelast of the powder and ammunition was carried out. Non e of the

" 'For G od's sake go get some men,' shouted Heintzleman."

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provisionswas saved. Everything thathad arrived in a wagontrain from San Diego the day before wentup in smoke.

As if the fire werenot enough the post was rockedby a severeearthquakeon November29 and on December1 the groundwasstill shakingso badly as to interfere with letter writing.Thetemblor so frightened the garrison that sentriesran from theirposts and huddled on the parade ground. Gigantic cracksopened in the ground, the river behavedin a mad fashionandfar to the south a large columnof smoke and steam arose. Largefragments slid down from Chimney Rockand the express rideren routeto the post from San Diego reported thathis mulehadtrouble keepingon its feet.

Great was the rejoicing in camp on December 3 when thesteamer "Uncle Sam,"the first steamerto navigate the rivertoFort Yuma arrived with about20 tons of commissary storesfrom the schooner "Capacity" then lying downstream some120miles. The "Uncle Sam"was only 65 feet longand some 10 or12 feet wide. This ship sankin June, 1853,at Ankrim's Ferrywhile being cleanedfor the installationof a new engine.

After the fire a more substantial Fort Yuma rose fromtheashes. Adobe buildings were begunbut work proceeded slowly.Orders for new barracks were issuedbut countermandedand itwasn't until latein 1854 that 35 wagons drawnby 90 muleswith a force of 35 carpenters and masons set out from SanDiego to build the post underthe supervisionof D. B. Kurtz.By June, 1855, workwas well underway continuingat a briskrate well intothe year despitethe heat, the weather being ratedas cool in Octoberof that year withthe thermometernot over100 in the shade.

The heatat Fort Yuma was proverbial.The three most widespread stories concerningit were that a dog once ran acrossthe parade groundon three legs, yelpingat every jump,the

ground beingso hot that it burned his feet. The hens at Yumalaid hard boiled eggs. (Eggsdid fry up in the heat which gaverise to this yam.) Then there wasthe tale of the old soldierwhodied at Fort Yuma and went to hell. He returned to the postthe next nightto get his blankets! HoweverDr. Elliott: Coueswho spent some timeat Ft. Yuma in 1856 maintained he hadbeen hotter in Washington,D. C, Quebec, Canada,and NewYork City than he had been at Yuma. On the afternoon of

June 16, 1859 the thermometer registered119 degrees,thehottest in nine years.At the outbreak of the Civil war soldiers of the 6th and 4th

Infantry were stationedat Yuma. By this timethe post was fair-ly substantial. Waterwas no longer hauledin a cart fromtheriver. The buildings wereof adobe plastered insideand out.There were about2 3 structures surroundingthe flat barrenparade ground "wherenot one single bladeof grass, or vineor tree worthyof the name is seen . . ." Redoubts, semi-circularoutposts composedof earthen embankments lined with willowfascines, where barbette guns were mounted were constructedin October and November of 1861. These were finishedbyCompany I, 1st California Volunteers,and the lunette to theeast which guardedthe ferry was called "Ft. Butte."

Like all frontier posts, oncethe menace of Indian ambushwas lifted fromthe trails the soldiers guarded,the forts ceasedto have a legitimate reasonfor their military existence. FortYuma was no exception.On July 17, 1884, the acting secretaryof war advised President ChesterA. Arthur that Fort Yumano longerwas necessaryas a military reservation. Accordinglyon July 22, 1884, the President transferred Fort Yumato thedepartmentof the interior and General Order No.80 issuedonJuly 28 officially informedthe army that the post ceasedtoexist.On March 5, 1892, Fort Yuma becamea part of the YumaIndian reservation.

WATER AND POWER. . . b o th th e p e o p le 's

Water is everything to Imperial Valley. Itmakes the difference between a barren desertwaste and a fertile, green, agricultural empire.

But water flowing into the valley through theconfines of the great All-American canal is do-

ing more than making possible the productionof millions of dollars worth of vital farm prod-ucts. It is turning turbines at two huge hydro-electric plants on the All-American canal andcreating a by-product Electricity to lighthomes and farms and turn the wheels of indus-try in Imperial Valley.

Both water and power belong to the people.Diversion of water, generation of power, anddistribution of both are handled by the ImperialIrrigation District, a cooperative utilityownedand operated by the people of Imperial Valley.Revenue from the sale of this power will pay forthe All-American canal which in turn has as-

sured for the people a safe and certain watersupply.

Thus do the thrifty people of this unique andvastly productive valley make full use of theirGod-given resources and insure the future ofthis miracle land which is helping to feed thenation.

I m p e r i a l I r r i g a t i o n D i s t r i c t ,

U s e Yo u r O w n P o w e r -M o k ei tP a y fo r t h e A l l A m e r ic a n C a n a l

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Meet Bill Chctlfcmt dean ofnewspapermen, first citizen ofInyo. For half a century he hasrecorded the life of his desertcommunity in the pages of "TheInyo Register" at Bishop, Cali-fornia. His career started beforehe was s ix, when he composedand printed his first card. Ateight, he ventured into his firstpublication, "The Juvenile Week-ly." Since those days he has be-come known as the First CountryEditor of the desert country. Hereis a part of his story. Much moreof it is recorded in the 50-yearfile of his newspaper and in thebooks he has written about theland which proudly claims him.

Meet-Chalfantof Inyo

By MORA M. BROWN

/ y N THE northwest corner of InyoV county in east central California is

the town of Bishop. East of itstretch the bare peaks of the White moun-tains. Against its western sky is spreadthe saw-toothed grandeur of the HighSierras. Nearby flows the Owens river.

Highway 395 is one with the mainstreet, and, as you travel north, a littlepast the center of the town, you will see asmall building labeled "The Inyo Regis-ter." In the big window you will notice ahaphazard collection of mineral speci-

mens, and inside, against the north wall, adesk, in the clutter of which the paper'seditor maintains that he can lay his handon anything he wants. If you are lucky youmay even discover that white-haired gen-tleman with blue eyes which strive to hidetheir twinkle. He is W. A. Chalfant, coun-try editor, dean of newspapermen, andfirst citizen of Inyo. I want you to meethim.

If you are a newspaperman, you knowhim. If you are not, you doubtless knowhis record. The California papers told thestory back in 1939. One evening of thatyear the Bishop Rotarians motored downto Lone Pine for dinner with the LonePine Lions. The occasion was a goldenanniversary. The speaker was the widelyloved "Padre of the Desert," Father John

W. A. Chalfant still works at his desk, where he has edited the.story of Inyo forhalf a century.

J. Crowley. The man whose record he re-counted was his close friend. The gift pre-sented was a desk set of Death Valleyonyx and gold on which was inscribed:

"To W . A. Chalfant, after fiftyyears of living, writing, andpublishing Inyo's story.

Bishop RotariansLone Pine Lions."

Shortly after, and by special invitation,Chalfant was initiated at the University ofSouthern California into Sigma Delta Chi,national journalistic fraternity. This wasin recognition of his more than 50 yearsat the same editorial desk. This was partof the story in the newspapers which rec-ognized him officially as dean of news-papermen in California.

Now, Time has called the desert priestfrom his desert circuit to the UnseenHeights; War has called the young fra-ternity brothers to every section of the

earth; but, at his friendly desk, Chalfantstill lives, writes, and publishes Inyo'sstory.

Bill Chalfant's tale does not begin withInyo. It does not even begin with Chal-fant's birth. It begins, rather, on a Sep-tember day in Utah in 1849 when the per-sonnel of several wagon trains gatheredwest of Salt Lake City to confer about theroute. More than 100 wagons were there,and there were three main groups. Jeffer-son Hunt met with them as their guide.Without frills he told them of the gauntand dangerous days ahead. He couldpromise safety only if they followed himsouthward into California by way of Ca-jon pass.

But one group, young adventurers fromIllinois who called themselves the Jay-hawkers, had heard of a more northernroute through the Sierras via Walker'spass. One group, "The San Francisco

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The old Washington press, now in the Edison museum at Dearborn, Michigan.This w as the first press in O wens Va lley, the third in Californiaand with it the

Chalfant Press began.

Party" preferred to go straight west. As aresult the party split three ways. The firstfollowed Jefferson safely into SouthernCalifornia. The second encounteredtragedy in Death Valley. The third, "TheSan Francisco Party," traveled slightlysouthwest across Nevada and enteredCalifornia northwest of Reno over Beck-wourth pass. In that group was a youngman named Pleasant Arthur Chalfant. Thestory began with him.

He came primarily for gold, and did hisfirst digging at Bidwell Bar near Oroville.Somewhat later on Indian Creek in Idahohe ran a sawmill among hostile Indians.In Idaho, too, he found his wife, andcame with her to live in Virginia City, Ne-vada, where Mark Twain was reporter onthe "Territorial Enterprise." And here in1868 was born the first of eight children,a son whom they named Willie ArthurChalfant.

Two years later the little family movedto Indepen dence in Owens Valley, California, and there in 1872, with his halfbrother J. E. Parker, Pleasant Arthur Chal-fant began publication of the "Inyo Inde-pendent."

They bought their press from the Es-meralda Union in Aurora, Nevada. It wasthe first press in Owens Valley, and thethird in California. And before it reachedIndependence it had made a record of itsown. It was a Washington press made byR. Hoe and Co. of New York, and some-

10

time before 1848 it was sent to BatonRouge, Louisiana. There Judge J. JudsonAmes used it to print "The DimeCatcher," a Whig paper supportingZachary Taylor for President. In 1849,stricken with gold-itch, Ames headed withhis press for California by way of theIsthmus of Panama. Ames made it acrossthe isthmus all right, but his press wasaccidentally dumped into the Chagrasriver. Fished out and cleaned, it pausedin Panama to print for Ames "The Pan-ama Herald."

But gold was calling, so the two sailedfor San Francisco where they got out theissues of the "Placer Times and Con-script." Next the inseparable pair went toSan Diego and printed the early writingsof humorist John Phoenix in the "SanDiego Herald." The little machine's nexthome was the Mormon outpost San Ber-nardino where Ames put out "The SanBernardino Herald." Ames died here,and Major E. A. Sherman took over thepress to publish "The Patriot" whichbeing a Union paper in a Confederacy-minded communityfailed. So, overlandto Aurora, Nevada, went Sherman andpress to join with a man named Freaner inpublishing the Esmeralda "Star." In 1864the ownership changed hands and the "Es-

meralda Union" came to life. The oldpress did its last work on "The Inyo Inde-pendent."

On it young Willie Chalfant began to

learn his trade. The pressroom occupiedthe upper story of the Chalfant housewhich, though severely shaken, survivedthe great earthquake of 1872. BeforeWillie Chalfant saw a First Reader he hadlearned to read type. Before he was six hehad composed and printed his first card.At eight, on a small press which his fathergave him, he ventured into his first pub-lication.

"It was a sheet six inches square," Mr.Chalfant told me, "and I called it 'TheJuvenile Weekly.' But," he added withthe twinkle showing, "it didn't last long."

In those days getting out a newspaperwas not the lightning clatter of machinerythat it is today. It was a matter of settingand inking type by hand, of printing pa-pers one at a time on one side of thesheet, then resetting type and repeating theprocess on the other side. Folding, too.was done by hand. So there was plenty ofwork for an interested son.

Hence, it was no cub who at 13 beganto print his own weekly, "The Owens Val-ley Newsletter," which lived for severalmonths. In 1881 Pleasant Arthur Chalfantsold his share of the "Independent" andmoved to Bishop. Bill Chalfant remainedin Independence as compositor on thepaper. When shortly the owner failed, helost the $180 due him in wages, and wentto Bishop, too.

Inyo county was still young. It was buttwo years older than the younger Chal-fant, and it was feeling its oats in miningdiscoveries, the most important of whichwas the Cerro Gordo in the mountainssoutheast of Lone Pine. These discov-eries brought in gold seekers, but withthem came men in search of homes. Tothem, farming, not mining, spelled thefuture of Owens Valley. So they took uphomesteads, fought the native Pahutes.and prepared their land for farming. "Allthat is needed," said one paper of the day,"is capital and population to make thisthe richest valley in California, if not inthe world."

That was optimistic, but it was not fan-tastic. Owens Valley stretched long andwide and gently sloping in the shelter ofgreat mountains, and all down its lengthwas the water fed by High Sierra snows.Game abounded in the heights. Fish wereplentiful. Wealth lay just beneath thecovers of the hills. The water needed onlya minimum of harnessing to conserve theflow and make this a farming paradise.But even then, Pleasant Chalfant wasfighting individual efforts to monopolizethe area.

In 1885 the Chalfants again went intonewspaper work, initiating "The InyoRegister." Willie Chalfant was full part-ner. The younger members of the familywere typesetters and helpers. Then in 1886the father was elected assessor of Inyocounty, and the editorship of the paperfell to the son. Three years later he began

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his long career when he became sole own-er and editor.

It has been said of Pleasant ArthurChalfant that his heart was so full it kepthis pocket empty. He spent much of hissalary for the taxes of unfortunate friends.It is said, also, that he was honest, indepen-dent and fearless. Inyo citizens use thesewords in speaking of the son. Add to thatheritage a wide sweep of valley, granitemountains holding lakes and forests intheir pockets, and a pioneering spirit, andyou have the Chalfant background. Itmakes you think about the story of TheGreat Stone Face.

"Chalfant leaned over backward to behonest with himself," is the way hisbrother-in-law put it. "Nobody with shadyschemes got their advertising in his paper,no matter what they tried to pay. He neverbudged from that rule."

But he was not stern. As a young manhe joined in all the activities of the youngpeople. He played the cornet, led the town

band, and especially liked to dance. Afterhis marriage in 1892 to Miss Flora Mal-lorya school teacher from Nevadahebecame an active force in community lifeas club man, lodge man, and business man.

Late in the nineties, neither the Chal-fants nor anyone else thought much aboutit when a young woman, whose husbandhad failed to support her, came with her

abnormal child to teach English at Inyoacademy. She taught the younger Chalfantchildren and wrote stories for "TheYouth's Companion." Then she wrote abook called "The Land of Little Rain."After that the world knew Mary Austin.

By this time Owens Valley had pro-gressed considerably. There were nolonger Indian wars. Mining was satisfac-tory. Farming was coming to the front,and all eyes were turned upon a farmingfuture. Before ever there was a reclamationact, enterprising homesteaders had locat-ed eight reservoir sites and had soughtgovernment permission to build dams forstorage and irrigation. Hence, it was nosurprise to them to learn that governmentengineers, sent out to study western landsfor irrigation, placed Owens Valley nearthe top because of the ease and compara-tively small cost with which it could beirrigated. Willingly they relinquished therights to their dam sites to the govern-ment, confident that if anything interferedwith the completion of the project theirrights would be restored to them.

But already an individual, who hadcoveted the water of Owens river since1892, was making plans to use that waterto irrigate private land of which he waspart owner. No one in Owens Valleyknew this, nor did they suspect that animportant government engineer, interest-

ed also in this private land, was soon toplay his part in this plan. In 1904 the en-gineer reported to Washington that thecity of Los Angeles desired to divertOwens Valley water toitself.

True, the city did want the diversion,but by constructing storage dams to pre-vent waste, there was enough water forboth Owens Valley farmers and Los Ange-les. However, north of the city lay therich but very dry plain of San Fernandovalley. Here was the privately owned landfor which the water was wanted. The fullstory of how that objective was achievedis told in Chalfant's revised "The Storyof Inyo." In this book, with all its evidencecarefully documented, you realize that evenin recording the betrayal of his people,Chalfant has bent over backward to behonest.

Throughout this period Chalfant foughtfor Inyo, both by his editorials and by ac-tive participation. He fought bitterly andfearlessly for Inyo; yet, he fought his own

people as fearlessly when they would haveresorted to destruction.Besides the story of Inyo he has writ-

ten three other books. "Death Valley: TheFacts" is an authority on its subject. "Out-posts of Civilization" is a historical recordof people and events beyond the boundsof Inyo county. His latest book "Tales ofthe Pioneers" is just off the press. It is

Mr. and Mrs. Chal jant on their goldeit weddinganniversary in September,1942.

A P R I L , 1 9 4 3 LI


12/40

what its title proclaimslittle-known fac-tual stories of early Nevada and Californiadays.

Writing is of necessity a lonely business,but Chalfant is gregarious. So, he joinedthe Knights of Pythias, of which he is stilla member. He became a Mason, and formore than 40 years he has been secretaryof W inn edu ma Lodge F. & A. M. In

1929 he became a charter member of theBishop Rotary club, and from then to nowhe has not missed a meeting. So proud arehis fellow Rotarians of this record thatonce when he was ill they held their meet-ing at his bedside. Thus was the recordkept intact. In addition he is chairman ofthe advisory board of the Bank of Americain Bishop, and, although he has neverowned a carhimself, he is on the advisoryboard of the Automobile Club of South-ern California.

In January, 1942, he sold "The InyoRegister" to George W. Savage and RoyL. French, publishers of the "Lone PineProgress-Citizen" and "The Inyo Inde-pendent." To honor the name of Chalfantthey designated the combined enterprises"The Chalfant Press." They retainedW. A. Chalfant as editor of "The InyoRegister" with complete freedom of opin-ion. It is an interesting fact that in a re-cent primary election "The Inyo Register"supported a candidate opposed by theother two papers of the Chalfant Press.

Last September the Bishop Rotarianshad another of several special dinnersgiven in Chalfant's honor. This time, how-ever, the two Chalfants were summoned

to a "Ladies' Night," only to discoverthat while all the Rotary Anns were pres-ent, they were there to celebrate anothergolden anniversarythis time of theirwedding. At this meeting the speaker wasJohn B. Long, manager of the CaliforniaNewspaper Publishers' Association, andhe said in closing:

"Angel's Camp had its Mark Twain,the Valley of the Moon its Jack London,San Francisco its Bret Harte. and OwensValley has its Bill Chalfant."

He does belong to Owens Valleytoall of Inyo. He is its pride. And it belongsto himit is his only childand he hasgiven his lifetime to living, writing, andpublishing its story.

And his work goes on. Savage andFrench have been called from the valley

by the war. Heavy responsibility again hasbeen laid across the Chalfant shoulders.But, veins still flowing full of printer'sink, he continues as he has for the pasthalf century.

"It 's what I' l l always be doing," he saidsimply, "and always for Inyo."

PltataGoate&t. . .

Each month the Desert Magazineoffers cash awards of $5.00 and$3.00 for first and second place win-ners in an amateur photographiccontest. The staff also reserves theright to buy any non-winning pic-tures.

Pictures submitted in the con-test are limited to desert subjects,

A D E T J I ICIT ^vc n

^ yo u r r a t

'n

's n t

high in thisv l i r A L v k month's quiz, you will add to your fund oldesert lore in the fields of history,

geography, botany, mineralogy. Those who can answer half of the questions cor-rectly are officially "Desert Rats." Those who exceed 15 belong to that select fra-ternity known as the "Sand Dune Sages." The answers are on page 35.

1California was still Mexican territory when the Jayhawkcrs crossed DeathValley. True False

2Most species of agave, or wild century plant, of the Southwest die after oneflow ering season. True False

3C hrysocolla is generally found in iron ores. Tru e False4Carlsbad caverns were once included in a national monument.

True False..5The Colorado river once flowed through New Mexico territory.

True False6-The desert sidewinder moves with its head and tail parallel while the middle

part of the body describes a series of loops. Tru e False7To go to the Blue Forest you would take Highway66 northwest from Flag-

staff, Arizona. True False8The tortoise is the most intellige nt of reptiles. Tru e False9 Wi ld Horse Mesa was named by Zan e Grey. True False..

10Chin Lee was a Chinaman well known in early mining camps of Arizona.True False

11Cliff Palace is the best preserved of the Canyon de Chelly Indian ruins.True . False

12 Bloodstone is also know n as Heliotrop e. True False1 3 Perpetu al Ice Cave in Ne w Mexico is one of the best exam ples of lim estone

caves in the Southw est. Tru e False..14 Francisco Garces discovered the Mo jave river. Tru e False1 5 The Desert Lily is the only true lily found in the Southw est desert.

True False16Dick Wick Hall, the noted humorist, lived at Salome, Arizona.

True False17The "Lost City," Pueblo Grande de Nevada, may now be visited by the

public. Tru e False18Colossal Cave, in southern Arizona, was discovered by archaeologists while

exploring for Indian ruins. True . False1 9 One of the uses for rattlesnake antivenin is in the treatmen t of haemo philia.

True False20Bradshaw stage road is another name for Butterfield stage road.

True False

but there is no restriction as to theresidence of the photographer. Sub-jects may include Indian pictures,plant and animal life of the desert,rock formationsin fact everythingthat belongs essentially to the desertcountry.

Following are the rules govern-ing the photographic contest:

1Pictures submitted in the Aprilcontest must be received at the DesertMagazine office by April 20.

2Not more than four prints may besubmitted by one person in one month.

3Winners will be required to fur-

nish either good glossy enlargements orthe original negatives if requested.

4Prints must be in black and white,3V4X5V2 or larger, and must be on glossypaper.

Pictures will be returned only whenstamped envelopes or photo-mailers areenclosed.

For non-prize-winning pictures ac-cepted for publication $1.00 will be paidfor each print.

Winners of the April contestwill be announced and the picturespublished in the June number ofthe magazine. Address all entriesto :

Contest E ditor, D esert Maga -zine, ElC e n t r e California.

12 T HE D E S E RT M A G A Z I N E


13/40

, . * " - . .

Deb Roop, in foreground, digging around a black opalized log at his Monarch opal clawin the Virgin Valley. Photo by Sterrett. U, S. geological survey.

By LELANDE QUICK

When travel is again in order, many gemcollectors will take the trail to northern Ne-vadaand the Virgin Valley. The lure isprecious opal, which occurs as siliciiied treecasts in the soft sedimentary volcanic ashand petrified tree trunks which are stillstanding. Although common opal aboundsin the area, fire-shot precious opal is notplentiful, but in the opinion of many whoknow the val ley well, the finest specimensare yet to be found.

" / 7 M G E T T I N G t ir ed of so in8( / a f t e r w o o d and jasper. I'd like

-* to pick up some REAL stufflike opals for instance,but of course, that'simpossible." A friend of mine said thisto me back in the days when field tripswere made regularly for rocks and gemmaterials.

"You ' l l be glad to know you' re wrong,"I replied, "for probably the finest opalsinthe world, certainlythe ones which havecommanded the highest prices, have beenfound in our western deserts. Within24hours we probably could be gathering

opals that would make your head swim."" N o w see here," said my friend, "I'm

serious. If there were opals withina thou-sand miles I would have knownof it and

you would have someof them to showme."

"You're right on both counts," I said,"for you've heard of the Virgin valley, Iknow, and I do have some of the opals toshow you but I'm ashamed of them forthey are the usual worthless stuff thatpeople get when they go up there."

There is magic in the word "opal" forany gem collector or cutter and, al thoughnearly everyone of them has heard of theVirgin valley opalsfew realize that opalshave been found there that were worthseveral king's ransomsa king's ransombeing at least a hundred thousand dollars.

The finest opal ever foundin the Virginvalley (probablythe finest opal ever foundanywhere) was picked up by Flora Loug-

head, who pronounced her name the wayher famous inventor sons Allanand Maicolm spell it phonetical lyLockheed.Shefound this opalin 1919. It weighed 2,665carats which is a little more than 19ounces. It was valued at a quarter milliondollars and was acquired by the late Colo-nel Roebling of Trenton , New Jersey,whose father built the Brooklyn bridge.Colonel Roebling donatedthe opal to theUnited States national museumat Wash-ington, D. C, where it is now on perman-ent display. It was never cut but was pre-served in the rough so that none of itsmagnificence would perish.It is a largepitch-black mass with wide flashesofvivid red and green fire and it was origin-

A P R I L , 1 9 4 3 13


14/40

ally part of the bark of a tree whichchanged to opal.

Mrs. Loughead died at the home of herdaughter, Hope Loughead Ledford, atBerkeley on January 29 of this year at theage of 87. Even when she had passed the80 mark she regularly made trips to herseveral opal claims to supervise the an-nual assessment work required to keep the

claims active. She was also the mother ofVictor Loughead, scientist and technicalwriter and she was a writer of noteherself,being the author of several published nov-els and a staff writer on the San FranciscoChronicle for more than 30 years. It waswhile she was writing for the Chroniclethat she visited the Virgin valley to inves-tigate the new opal fields for a story andbecame interested in digging opals her-self.

Virgin valley is located in Humboldtcounty, Nevada, in the northwest corner ofthe state where the states of California,Nevada and Oregon meet. Few sections ofthe United States are as little known, forno railroads cross the valley and no goodhighways exist. The graveled roads aresatisfactory only during the summermonths. The occasional visitor must takeall supplies such as gasoline, food and wa-ter for the nearest store is at Denio, Ore-gon, about 30 miles away.

I remember that when my good friendsthe Fred Ruggs first visited the valleythey wanted to see Denio and they wantedto say they had been to Oregon, so off theystarted on the 30-mile trek picking up astranded motorist who wanted to get totown for a wheel. They were all dismayedwhen they saw the "town"population30. The nearest town in California is Ce-darville. That is a "big" place (popula-tion about 600) and it is 91 miles west ofthe valley. As the government agents inthe valley are not allowed to dispensegasoline it is important that the visitorobey the Boy Scout motto and "Be Pre-pared."

The valley is an inhospitable land withno trees, sparse vegetation and almost nowater. The 130 degree summer heat andthe winter winds and snow are anything

but conducive to comfort. But who wouldnot bear any discomfort for the reward ofpersonally picking up even a bad opal?Ah, but there is no such thing as a "bad"opal. Most are not of gem quality but noopal is unattractive if it has even a tiny bitof "fire." Some are less appealing thanothers but I have never seen one so dullbut that I felt powerless to describe thebeauty that was there. I refer to fire opal.as common opal is interesting but seldombeautiful. A good opal is so magnificentthat it is futile to attempt an adequate de-scription and I have never read one.

The Virgin valley fields are like theblack opal fields of Australia in topog-raphy and forbidding climate. The bestopals are found in ridges lower than thesurrounding country at both placesat

A white opalized pine cone in a lumpof translucent precious opal from DebRoop's M onarch claim. Sterrett photo.

Rainbow ridge in the Virgin valley and atLightning ridge in New South Wales.These are apt names for opal-bearingground. The Virgin valley is about a mileabove sea level and at one time it was ahuge lake into which mountain streamspoured both water and driftwood. Theprevailing winds carried the driftwood tothe north and south sides of the west endof the valley at locations about four milesapart. Here they became buried after vol-canic disturbances and then they silicified.The lake then disappeared, the streamswere diverted and much of the wood petri-fied with some of it turning to beautifulopal with red, green and purple fire. Thebark of the limb casts is usually black

while the interior of the wood is lightopal.Doctor Chaney, paleobotanist at the

University of California, with Richard M.Tullar, former manager of the Sheldon na-tional antelope range of which the valleyis a part, collaborated in some researchwhich determined that the matrix of softlacustrine shales and volcanic ash in whichthe opals are found are of the upper Mio-

cene or lower Pliocene age. This was con-firmed by opalized spruce cones unearthedby Mr. Tullar during the research.

"There always has been a legend of anopal being found about as big as a man'shead," Mr. Tullar told me, "but thisnever has been substantiated. Howeverwhile I was range manager I saw severalopals found in the valley that were as

large as a man's fist." The first opal wasfound by a range rider about 1906 andothers were picked up about that time bywandering sheep herders. As wordreached the outside world many prospec-tors came into the valley and filed claimsat various locations which were minedwith success.

The fish and wild life service of thedepartment of interior, in conjunctionwith the national grazing services, jointlysupervise that section of the country inwhich the opal fields are located. Con-trary to popular belief mining still is al-lowed in the range, subject to existingmining laws providing the special rulesof the service are followedno hunting,no unleashed domestic animals and nofires without permits. The confusion ex-ists because there are 30,000 acres knownas the Sheldon national antelope refugewhere no mining of any kind is allowedand where no opals are known to exist.

To the east of the refuge is a muchlarger area (550,000 acres) known as theSheldon national antelope range of whichthe Virgin valley is a small part and alllegal mineralogical activities are allowedthere. Camp fire and opal hunting permits

are readily granted by authorities at rangeheadquarters at the western entrance to therange proper or at the eastern entrance atthe Dufarenna sub-headquarters. This en-ables the authorities to keep a record of allvisitors as many people become lost or runout of gas and their continued absence inchecking out of the valley would be inves-tigated. The area is isolated and confusingand it also abounds in rattlesnakes so that

One o f the ten Lockheed claims located in the white patch at the left of the photo.South side of Virgin V alley. Photo by Belle Rugg.



15/40

it is a great protection to be registered incase of emergencies.

Many hardy rockhounds visit the placeeach year and some of them take awayprize gems, others worthless opalite. Theprized pieces, which are not plentiful, arethe precious opal twigs with entrancingdancing fire. Turn them this way and theyare purple, turn them that way and theyare green and then as you look at them in

awe they suddenly turn red until youwould swear they were on fire because youcertainly see the flames leaping within.The petrified wood enthusiasts find it easyto make good hauls and persons interestedin fluorescent materials find that the opal-ite fluoresces a beautiful green which isunusual for opal as it usually does not ex-hibit this phenomenon.

There are only two kinds of opal andthey are well named"common" opal isjust that, and "precious" (fire) opal is allthat the name implies. Common opalabound s in the valley but the precious opal

has to be sought for and dug with hardlabor. It is the opinion of most people whohave been there that the best pieces are yetto be found just as there is still far more"gold in them hills" than ever has beenmined.

The dumps of the old mines have beenpractically exhausted, for the governmenthad a Civilian Conservation corps estab-lished there for a time to improve theroads and the game refuge and the boystore everything apart rather thoroughlywhen they heard about the opals. Imaginehaving nothing to do in your spare timebut look for opals in a spot where youknow they exist!

The "mines" all have been shallow sur-face diggings, never more than 15 feetdeep and most of them under six feet.When anyone familiar with mining tech-nique stops to consider the treasures thathave been taken out of the pock-markedridges it makes the imagination run riot todwell on the possibilities of what wouldhappen if timber, water and machinerywere at the spot. The only mine operatingat this writing is the corporation-ownedRainbow Ridge Opal mine located on pat-ented land. This has been leased to MarkFoster, the present tenant-operator. It is lo-cated about four miles south of the Dufa-renna sub-headquarters. Mr. Foster hasopals for sale at reasonable prices and hegenerously permits visitors to search thedumps of his mine free of charge. Heshould be addressed at Cedarville, Cali-fornia.

It is characteristic of the Virgin valleyopals that they are not improved in colorby lapidary treatment. As they are moresusceptible than other varieties to crack,because of the internal stress that some-times causes them to virtually "explode"when being ground, they seldom are cutinto finished gems. Those that are cutoften develop fractures due to temperature

changes long after they are ground. Theopals are all silicified tree casts and oc-casionally a completely opalized cone isfound. They occur in soft sedimentary vol-canic ash and in some places trunks ofpetrified trees still are standing but it isonly when water is combined with the sili-ca replacement of wood that true opal oc-curs. The disappointment in the opalsfrom this region, which caused abandon-

ment of their mining, is that they are dif-ficult to process into finished gems becauseof their extreme tendency to crack. Manycures supposedly have been found to pre-vent this but it is doubtful if they have anyreal value. Possibly soaking them in gly-cerine would permit opals to soak up anon-evaporating agent to replace waterlost by evaporation and thus relieve theinternal stress and thereby prevent thechecking.

Sheep and cattle herding and opal min-ing were the only activities ever under-taken in the valley and now they all have

been abandoned except for the RainbowRidge mine which has in the past pro-duced the world's finest opal specimens.There is probably no spot in America to-day where fewer humans are stirringabout. Large herds of the only remainingAmerican antelope are now plentiful andgame of many kinds abounds. Even in theold days there were only two ranches,both run by Basques, and the house on one

of them, known as the Pink Stone Housebecause it is built of a characteristic nativered sandstone, is now the headquarters ofthe range superintendent.

This Virgin valley is still a virgin landwhich creates a fever in the mind of anygem hunter. When freedom returns andone can go where he pleases, when hepleases, for as long as he pleases I intendto head immediately for that Nevada won-derland of lavender rocks, really primitivelife and those gems that possess everythingthat makes all other gems entrancingthe opals.

Hard R ock S hor ty 1o f D e a t h V a l l e y. . .

"I don't get insulted easy, re-marked Hard Rock Shorty, "but Ijust run into somethin' that really

made me boil. All unprovoked too,the way the guy made these cracksabout me."

Hard Rock seethed at the memoryof the insults.

"Yes siran' he started it all too.He says he'd heard I'd had some in-terestin' experiences an' he wantedto swap yarns for a while. Said he'dseen some queer things too. Well,that was all right, an' he started.

' 'Y' know,' he begun, 'I kind o'wonder sometimes just how long aburro lives. I unnerstand most of'em live around 40 years or so, but Ihad a burro that my granddad had,an' my dad had, an' I give 'im to myboy 10 years ago. That burro wasjust 89 years old when a truck runinto 'im couple of months ago. Youever know any to live that long?'

"I studied that for a minute. Thatwas the kind o' yarn swappin' con-test he wanted, was it?

"So I says, 'Hmmmm. That's oldall right. I dunno how old they doget but I had once oncet made memore money in two-three days thanI ever seen before.

' 'I was campin' up arou nd thehead o' Eight Ball Crick an' one day

By LON GARRISON

when I was out huntin' for thisonery, four-legged insult to the an-imals, his tracks led me right onto

wha t I reckernized as a old mine thaimust o' had a hydraulic rig on 'er.There was a good spring an' waterstill pourin' into the pipe so I follered 'er down. Found that downwhere the placer'd ought to be, abig sand storm'd covered ever'thin'u p .

' ' I remem bered then about thismine I 'd heard of a long time ago,an' I starts in diggin' it out to seewhat sort of a prospect he'd had. Doyou know, for 40 years, that thing'dbeen covered up, an' when I got 'eruncovered, found out that hydrau-lic'd been runnin' under that sandall them years an' the riffle was allready to clean up after I went up an'shut the water off.'

' 'Hm mm m, ' this feller says.'Hmmmm. Forty years an' this wa-ter was still runnin' through thempipes?'

' 'Yup,' I says."He thunk that over for a few

minutes." 'Look,' he says, an' then's when

I got insulted, 'Tell you what I'll do.

I'll take 49 years off that burro ifyou'll bust that pipe line.' "

A P R I L , 1 9 4 3 15


16/40

Mary Pepo, Pahnte basket-maker. By stimulating production and sale of genuineIndian craft, the government hopes to increase the source of livelihood for many

Indians as well as preserve a beautiful native art.

i J ARY Pepo was sunning dried/I/I fish in front of her reed and 'dobe

house when I parked under theonly tree in sight and went to her door.

Mary is an8 5-year-old Pahute living in

western Nevada among the deeply foldedhills surrounding mountain lakes, Walkerand Pyramid. Her people farm and grazethe land that was the desert huntinggrounds and battlefields of her tribe forcenturies. From these lakes, set down inthe midst of the desert, come tons of fish,caught by the Pahutes and dried over slowfires or in the sun and stored for winterfood. The air was thick with the pungentsmell as Mary came to welcome me.

A hundred years ago John C. Fremontpaused on this very site, to rest from hisambitious travels and study the desert In-dians at first hand. Many tales had beentold of their ferocious attacks on westernbound caravans and their stubborn resis-

tance to army troops bent on exterminatingthem. Fremont was appalled by their ex-treme poverty and primitive mode of life."Humanity in its lowest form and mostelementary state of existence," was his re-

port.If Fremont could visit this land today hewould look upon irrigated grain fields andgreat herds of tribal cattle scattered overthe brown hills and watering along theshores of Lake Walker. The agency standson Fremont's camping ground and on thesite of an ancient Pahute village. ThereIndians have been in the Nevada desertlonger than any white man has been inAmerica.

Mary turned the last brown fish andleft the sun to do its work while she ledme into her house, and placed a packingbox for me to use- as a chair. Mary Pepo isa kindly gentle woman full of humor andpride in her people, and not for an instant

For 85 yea rs , Mary Pep o ha slived in the desert hills of Ne-vada, absorbing their purpleand red and rose brown beauty.And this beauty is reflected inthe tribal legends she retellsbut most of all in the bask ets an dbead-work over which she workswith loving care. The rich cream-and-brown baskets are t raded to

other tr ibes to be used as "Nava-jo Wedding Baskets" or "ApacheMedic ine Baskets ." The beadsare sewed on soft chamoisgloves and moccasins , on cradle-board trimming and on a whitedeerskin dress, deeply fringedand covered with intricate beadpat tern of mounta ins and val leysand clouds and rays of the shin-ing sun. Here is an intimateclose-up of a talented member ofthe Pahute tr ibedaughter of thefamous Indian scout Truckee.

Craftsmanof thePahutes

By MARGARET STONEU. S. Indian Service photos

inclined to make any apologies for them.Even though they are sometimes cold,sometimes hungry, always at odds withthe government over water for their cropswhich they say has been diverted by damsto the fields of white farmers. Even thoughthey are constantly feuding with federalofficials over the taking of fish eggs from

Pyramid lake and failure to restock theirfishing waters; and most of all carrying onunremitting warfare with the great whitepelicans for whose protection the govern-ment has made a refuge of Lake Pyramid.There the pelicans rest in white cloudsand nest on its islands, and, say the Pa-hutes, consume tons and tons of fish whichthe Indians need for winter food. Maryis proud of her tribesmen who have sur-vived drought and famine, warfare and!aggression of white men, and who live andincrease in numbers and prosperity on thedesert lands of their forefathers.

"The Pahutes have always lived here,"said Mary, busily sorting willow strips forthe basket she worked on as she talked.

16 THE DE S E RT M AG AZ I NE


17/40

Our people first began life right here.Have you heard about the beginning?"

I shook my head and waited for thetory which I felt sure would either begin

or end with the great flood always featuredn Indian stories of creation. I was right.

"For a long time there was no land tobe seen anywhere. Water covered it all.But after a while the water began to goaway. I guess it soaked into the earth. Ashe water dropped, Jurangwa (Mount

Grant near Walker lake) stood above itand right on the top was a small fire thathe water had never reached. The wind

came up and high waves were about tobeat out the firethe only fire anywheren the worldbut a sage hen flew againsthe wind and with her wings beat back the

water. The feathers on her breast wereburned black by the fire she saved, andeven to this day all sage hens have blackbreasts.

"My people try never to injure a sagehen but often hunger makes it necessary,and then they always build a fire and put

hose black breast feathers in it to remind

the spirit of the bird that they have notfoigotten, but that hunger was too strong.

"After the great water went away leav-ing our land as it is now, Numinaa (OurFather) stepped out of Jurangwa wherethe small fire had kept him warm and dry,and went to the Great Sink, the last placethe water left, and there made his home.Ibidsii (Our Pahute Mother) followedhim and was his wife. They had two boysand two girls, and the father taught theboys to hunt with bow and arrows whileour mother made sticks and taught thegirls to dig roots.

"One boy and one girl went to Pyramidlake and became fish eaters. My peopleare from them. The other boy and girlwent north and ate raw buffalo. Thus thePahutes were scattered. After the childrenwent away our parents went back toJurangwa and disappeared in the moun-tain."

While she told the story I studied herand her home. She was slender and erectfor her 85 years and her eyes were as

bright and clear as a girl's. Around her

head she wore a green silk scarf tied gypsy-wise. Her figured cotton dress was cleanand over it she had tied a checkered apron.Navajo rings were on her fingers and herfeet were covered with saffron coloredbuckskin moccasins hand-sewed and dec-orated with beads. They were of her ownmaking she said.

Her house was a long narrow structure-made of split cottonwood poles, reeds andadobe. It was divided into two rooms andtwo small windows gave light. The floorwas hard packed earth and the roof wasreeds covered with dirt. In the room wherewe sat was an iron bedstead, the mattresscovered with a handwoven blanket suchas I had not seen among Indian work.Mary explained that it was the weavingof i Shoshone neighbor of hers, and thatit was traded to her by the weaver for bas-kets and moccasins.

Many Shoshone Indians live among theWashoe and Pahutes in western Nevada,but the Pahutes number almost 6,000 andare by far the larger tribe. Hopi Katchina

dolls and red ceremonial sashes hung on

Indians round up their own cattle on Pyramid Lake Indian reservation ivhich surroundsPyramid Lake in Nevada. Herds were started with a small num ber oj cattle advanced by

the government.TLiey are now repay ing the governm ent's loan with cattle.

**.


18/40

.

This is the baby oj Amy Jones. Washoe Indian girl who teas taken into the Py ramidLake Pahu te band ivhen she married a Pahute Indian. Am y issecretary of the tribal

council.

the walls with painted ceremonial gourds "W e trade with all the other tribes forand headdresses from the Rio Grande In- the things they want and do not make.dian villages. They like our beaded gloves and mocca-

sins, and they use only our shallow mushbowls in the Navajo and Apache healingdances." She held up the basket she wasmaking. "This is going to be what iscalled 'Navajo Wedding Basket,' or'Apache Medicine Basket.' "

I could see that she was making one ofthe large shallow mush bowls that figureso prominently in all Navajo ceremoniesfrom weddings to burials. It is usually 12

or 14 inches across, and woven in ratherwide coils, the covering being the aromaticsumac, which is split to the width desiredby the maker and left either its originalcream color or dyed a reddish brown withmountain mahogany dye to be used in thepattern always woven into such a basket.

This pattern is a sort of square crossjoined to similar square crosses forming acircle around the basket, with just oneopening in the pattern. This opening oc-curs at the same place in the basket wherethe end of weaving is discernible. Thecircle is left open, not to let out evil spirits,but so that the place of souls will not beclosed thus cutting off future births intothe Pahute tribe. With use and from theoily meal used in the bowls they acquire asheen that gives them unusual beauty. Iwonder if many people witnessing Apacheand Navajo ceremonies and later purchas-ing similar baskets know they are thework of Nevada Pahutes and not really"Navajo" baskets at all.

Mary Pepo showed me the carrying bas-kets she had woven and uses when shegathers plants and basket materials. Theyare very similar to Apache burden baskets

And the water jars covered with pinongum could be mistaken for those of theSupais, Hualpais or the Apaches. These

Pahute homea long n arrow structure made o\ split cottonwood poles, reeds and adobe.



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three styles seem to exhaust their basketmaking talents.

While we were talking a beautiful In-dian girl came bringing her baby on herback. The baby was laced firmly to a nativecradle-board with a basketry canopy andfine beaded buckskin trimmings. The oldlady forgot me and her basket makingwhile she gathered the cradle-board intoher arms and crooned to the child in thePahute tongue. Such a proud great grand-mother!

The baby's mother was a Washoe girlmarried to a Pahute, and adopted into thetribe because of the marriage. She was thesecretary of the tribal council for the Pa-hutes, and a very modern and charminggirl. Still she clings to the carrying boardfor her lusty young chieftain, and makessure his back will be straight and strongby keeping him laced to it. She tossed thecradled baby to his place on her back andhe watched us with round unwinking stare

as his mother carried him away."When I was a girl"how often had Iheard white women begin criticism of theyounger generation with those very words"when I was a girl, women did notchoose their husbands as that one did. Wemarried in our own tribe and we marriedthe men our fathers chose for us. I waspromised to my father's best friend evenbefore I could weave a basket or smokefish for winter storing. My father was agreat mm in the councils. He guidedwhite men when they first came to ourdesert and the river Truckee is called forhim. Never was a party lost in the greatsalt sinks when he was the guide."

"Did you like the husband your fatherchose for you?" She went back mentallysome 70 years and considered the matter.

"I can't think much about it now. Hewas old and soon he died and then I mar-ried a man of my own choosing. A widowcan do that.

"All that I can remember is that hewanted beans cooked like the white peoplecooked them, boiled and boiled and withfat meat in them. I wish I knew his grave-so that it could have flowers on it whenthe other graves have."

I did not question her about this, be-cause I had heard how the Pahute womenand children go up into the mountains onMemorial day which they have taken assome special day of their own, and bringhuge baskets of wild flowers down to thevalley, covering every grave with them.Pahutes never have cremated their dead,and they keep moving the limbs of deadwarriors until they are buried in order thatthey will not go into the hunting fields ofthe other world with arms too stiff to drawa bow.

"My people used to go out into themountains and gather huge baskets of pinenuts and store them for winter. My sonwho works with the government on mak-ing the water run in the ditches throughthe fields, always goes with me even these

days and we store many baskets full ofthem to eat in the winter time.

"It was always time for a rabbit huntafter the pine nuts were gathered. All thewomen and children formed a great circleand beat the grass and bushes with sticksand shouted until the rabbits went into thecenter of the ring. The men waited thereand killed them. We took the skins anddried them and wove them into blankets,and the meat was torn from the bonesand dried for winter use.

"Now we dry and smoke only the cui-ui(pronounced kwee-wee). Next week wego to the "lake where the cui-ui live" andyou should be there to see the great fishand how we take them and smoke them."I firmly resolved to be there.

Mary reached under the bed andbrought out a box. From it she unwrappeda garment she was making out of whitedeerskin. It was as soft as chamois and theyoke of the blouse was deeply fringed and

covered with intricate beading in delicate

colors. Here was a work of love by an ar-tist. This native maiden's dress was to beworn at the Gallup Ceremonial in Augustand the old grandmother was doing theoutstanding work of her life in order thatit might be perfect in every way. The pat-tern was of mountains and valleys andclouds and rays of the shining sun. Theskirt had no beading but a deep fringe ofthe deerskin was around the bottom in-stead of a hem. Here was a garment worthits weight in silver.

Almost all the Pahute women smokeand tan buckskin out of which they shapegloves and moccasins for sale to tradingposts and tourists. But this ceremonialdress for a modern Pahute girl was themost beautiful Indian work I ever haveseen. Only a fine oil painting could com-pare with it.

Mary Pepo has not spent her life in thehills of the Pahute desert without absorb-ing their purple and red and rose brown

beauty.Shoshone Indian woman with rugs of her oivn weaving, outside her home on

Walke r River reservation, north oj Walke r Lake, Neva da.

tA P R I L , 1 9 4 3 J9


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open at dusk and close at dawn. The plant is slender,pliant and semi-trailing. Very limited area, extremesouthern Texas.

because they resemble a red pepper. Found in Texas asfar north as Edwards Plateau, extending in a south-westerly direction reaching the Big Bend area.

LACE CACTUS4E chinocereus reichenbachii.One of the most pop-

ular of all Texas species because it produces such gor-geous blossoms and can be handled with the barehands. Shades from a delicate pink to a vivid red, twoto three inches across. Opens and closes with the sun,lasting several days. The stamens, in several rows, area bright yellow and circle a ten-rayed stigma. Flowersfor about a month beginning the middle of May. Wide-spread in Texas, especially plentiful in Jhe limestonehills of the Edwards Plateau in south central Texas.

PENCIL CHOLLA5Opuntia arbuscula. Petals usually yellow, green

or terra-cotta, the flowers an inch or less across. Ripefruit is green, tinged with red or purple. Plant is a tree-like shrub with compactly b ranched crown and well de-veloped trunk, sometimes six and seven feet high. Pa-pago Indians used young joints as boiled vegetable,but probably only in times of want. Found in sandywashes and in the heavy soils of desert valleys andplains, especially from Salt River valley to Pima coun-ty and west Santa Cruz county of Arizona. Photo byNorton Allen.

DEVIL'S PINCUSHION6Neomammillaria hemisphaerica. The greenish-

pink small flowers are not nearly as conspicuous as thescarlet club-shaped fruits, which take from six monthsto a year to develop, often appearing with next year'sblossoms. Fruits are called "Chillitos" by the Mexicans

A P R I L , 1 9 4 3

V

j * . % * - .


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Soon I reached the rounded summitofa blue clay hill that dominated the region.Westward, 66 was a sooty river flowingover the straw-colored hills finally fadingin the dusty haze rollingup from the bedof the Rio Puerco. Eastward, the pointupon which the Painted Desert Inn squatswas a layered mirageof pastels laid againstthe black massifof Rabbit mountain.

Far in the northbeyond the jumble of

variegated colors and tonesof the DesiertoPintado rose the rusty black fingersof theMoqui Buttes.To the south, acrossthewhite threadof the Puerco werethe highrims that mark the borderof the petrifiedforest. It was not difficult to see why theNavajo call them Atsadibiisi, LonelyClouds.

My trail led downward to wherethebone-white sandsof the Big Carriso grindin from the northeast through brickcol-ored wallsof Moencopi sandstone. SoonIreached the crumbly bankof the arroyoofwhich Mrs. Rice had warned me. Giving

the pickup the gasI swerved and swayedas my tires spun me upon the farther bank.Some 100 paces farther on my car travel

was abruptly terminatedby a culdesacoflow, but sheer sandstone walls. After pick-ing up a few choice spawls fromthe sur-face litter of petrified wood, erodedoutfrom the thin stratum of the Chinlefor-

* *

A close IIp view o \ the station ruins.

mation, I slung on my camera-bagandstarted outon foot.

Following the broken wallsof a smallcove scooped outin the sandstoneI madeslow progress.I searched the smooth faceof every rockfor inscriptions. My only re-ward before reaching wherethe rinconfanned out and dumped into the Carrisowas a series of ancient Anasazih folkglyphs.

A gentle breeze stirredup small "wind-

devils" in the bottom of the wide wash.From nearby camean unearthly groaning!Quickly climbing to a vantage point I

looked around.Up the washlonesomeagainst the autumn blue hardnessof thesky an ancient windmill rattledas itcreakily spunin the swelling wind.

My first effort to cross the wash wasquickly frustrated. The crusted surfacebroke. Sucking quicksand pulled mein tomy boot-tops. Grabbinga chico root I

~U FT. DEFIANCEnun. .FT CANBV( I B I - 6 )

: STBGESTflTION-

RUIN V.75SI i ? SILSESTRe ESQUIBELINSCRIPTION

'norseser UOLBROOKIZMI.

Old

y Station^'---f-'-wfe.. HOLBROOK

(ISftll

TRAILS &WAGON ROADS

NORTHERN ARIZONA/S65-7S

flLBUQUeRQUe-PRESCOTTSTAR MOI L ROUT E - - -

OLD MILITORV ROUTEOTHCR ROUTES

MO D E RN T O W N S tt R U I N S -A5 To a e S T O T I O N Sa

7V FT APACHEit FT THOMAS

'ONTO I APACHE

A P R I L , 1 9 4 3 23


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pulled myself out. Remembering the Na-vajo lore taught me by old Red-Streak-Man in the Canyon de Chelly, I lookedfor "a place where water moves!"

After working through a pile of shat-tered sandstone that had tumbled downand finding the bottom of the quicksandthat lurked under the bank, I lookedaround for a crossing. Below me lay dan-gerdirty bubbles belched up from bilecolored pools. Going upstream I found aplace where the bed had widened.

Slinging my boots over my shoulder Icarefully started to pick my way across. Inmoist spots there was a slight quivering.When this started I moved swiftly for-ward rather than jump. Finally I found alive stream that swung out from the far-ther bank. Digging my toes into the hardriffles in its firm bed I soon was on solidground under the old windmill.

The water in thetanque beneath thewindmill was good. I started up the slope

, that ended at the rimrock. Piles of stone

lying out from the low cliffs caught myeye. When I drew near I identified themas the litter from fallen buildings.

One roughly coarsed sandstone roomstill stood. Back of this was a stone fire-place similar to some of those found in oldNew Mexican houses. The surface of theground was covered with scraps of rustedmetal, broken crockery and decaying tim-bers.

After some study I reconstructed the lay-out of the old station. The main buildingand possibly the residence of the lonely

station-keeper had been composed of three-small rooms. Back of this was an outbuild-ingpossibly a storeroom. Nearby was astone corral and a lean-to stable.

The site had been chosen under thespur of a low ruin that juts eastward fromthe Moencopi sandstone walls that boundthe Big Carriso. Working through theboulders that seemed to have been chiseledoff from the U-shaped point, I found my-self in a veritable "autograph album inthe rocks."

The ancient petroglyphs of theAnasa-

zih were easily recognizable. Anothersmall group resembled those of the Hopiclan symbols on the old salt trail betweenMoencopi and the bottom of the LittleColorado river gorge. There were alsothose of pioneer Mormon settlers of north-ern Arizona. Mixed with these werescratches of soldiers, cowboys, and emi-grants. But nowhere did I find any Span-ish inscription!

In two hours I had all the glyphs andinscriptions entered in my note book. Thesun was warmthe place was peaceful andquiet. Nearby was a large rock. Stretchingout on its warm flat surface I sunned my-

Remains of the fireplace of the old stage station.

self as the pageant of the past marched be-fore me:

On the knolls beyond, thin spirals ofgrey smo ke etched a tracery against theblue sky as they rose from the earthendomes of a pit-house settlement of theAnasazih. Down in the wash Indian wom-en scoop up ivater from the charco s ivithbrightly decorated pigs as naked childrenplay in the warm sand.

The dusty scroll of time unfolds a fewhundred years and the scene shifts:

Out o f the east rides a Spanish entrada.

Zuiii guides in their cotton pants lead themdoivn the wash. Behind themleather-cladmuleteers restrain their gaunt mules asthey smell water. In their midst rides ElDon who searches this terra incognita fornew dom ain for El Rey.

The stream of history moves on:

The "Mountain Man," Anton Leroux,guides Captain LorenzoSitgreaves,U.S.A..

on his expedition to explore the Zuni andColorado river for a steamboat route to theG ulf of California. Volloiving them, passLieut. Edw ard F. Beale surveying his iva-

The unidentified Silbestre Esquibel inscription.

24 T HE DE S E RT M AG AZ I N E


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A close-up oj the desert Sumac, or Squaw hush, showing the trifoliate leaves, acharacteristic shared by its notorious relative the Poison Oak.

Hallcet MCLICZIand ikitlt

uencnet not tke. SJndltznBy MARY BEAL

/ /ARIOUSLY called Squaw Bush,[ / Squaw Berry, Skunk Bush, and

Stink Bush, the desert's representa-tive of the Sumac family is one of the use-ful members of the clan. Some of its closerelatives in other sections of the countryare not desirable neighbors, having theunfriendly habit of poisoning those whocontact them, the most notorious being

Poison Oak and Poison Ivy.The Squaw Bush carries the scientificname Rhus trilobata.the varietyanisophyl-la being more common than the species inthe desert. It thrives in the higher moun-tain ranges of the eastern Mojave andnorthern Colorado deserts, the Panamints,the Charleston and other southwesternNevada mountains, into Arizona andUtah. It is most frequently found above4,000 feet and is one of the plants highlyprized by the native tribes of those areas.

It is a handsome, much-branched, de-ciduous shrub 3 to 6 feet or more high,with bright deep-green leaves, which aretrifoliate, the end leaflet much the larger,the lateral leaflets unequal, all more orless scalloped. The under side of theleaf-

lets is paler and somewhat hairy. The tinyyellow flowers are crowded into clusteredspikes, appearing before the leaves aremuch in evidence. The flattened bright-red fruits are berry-like, the one smoothseed covered with a very thin layer offlesh, clothed with sticky hairs.

The Indians found many uses for them.A refreshing drink was made from the

ripening berries. While still green theymade a much-relished appetizer, eatenwith salt. Well-ripened they went intothe mortars to be ground into meal, theacid flavor no doubt adding zest to otherfoodstuffs. Well I know the refreshingquality of these strongly acid fruits. Manytimes on day-long climbs up the canyonsof the Providence mountains I have re-lieved the dryness of a thirsty mouth byholding a few of the sour sticky berries inmy mouth.

The tough pliable stems supply excel-lent material for basketmaking. The greybark of the slender branchlets is peeledoff and the stems split into a few longthin strips, which are wrapped tightlyaround a slender core of long-stemmed

grass, and coiled into basket shape. Withsuch varied uses in the domestic economyof the Indian the name Squaw Bush na-turally attached itself to the shrub.

The stems and foliage diffuse an aro-matic fragrance, more noticeable whencrushed, which is considered disagreeableby many. It is not unpleasant to me butenough people dislike it to entitle the ex-pressive appellations Skunk Bush andStink Bush to permanence in print.Rhus ovata

An evergreen species of Sumac, foundless frequently on the desert, is the SugarBush. It is a very attractive shrub, 6 to 18feet or more high, found in the foothillsof the Coast range but more commonly inthe mountain areas farther inland, extend-ing into the desert and even venturing tocross the Colorado desert into Arizona,particularly in the cholla and saguaro re-gions.

It is a sizable sturdy shrub, broad, com-pact and rounded, sometimes a small tree

with a substantial trunk and broad top.The stems are not pliant as are those ofthe Squaw Bush, but firmly rigid, theyoung branches often tinged with red, theold ones with a rough, dull-brown, shaggybark. The large leathery leaves are ovate,sharply pointed and usually entire, a rich,glossy, bright-green, a bit paler on theunder side.

The flower buds are deep red and theopened blossoms cream-colored or pink-ish, less than one-quarter inch across butso delightfully profuse they make a fineappearance in the spring pageant. Theshort close spikes are clustered in paniclesterminating the branchlets. The fruit is adeep-red, sticky-hairy drupe, commonlycalled a berry.

The sweet, waxy covering of the acidberry was used by the Indians as sugar.They also made a delectable dish of theflowers, boiled, and an infusion madefrom the leaves was used for chest coldsand coughs. A handful of the berries putinto the olla transformed the water into aflavorsome drink. For the bees the flower-ing Sugar Bushes were a fine honey gar-den, adding another quota to the Indianlarder.

Survey of plant life in Chiricahua na-

tional monument, Arizona, shows a totalof at least 467 species, representing 257genera and 80 families. Specimens collect-ed by Ranger Ora M. Clark have beenplaced in the monument museum for pub-lic inspection.

Vegetation of the Grand Canyon oc-

curring within the vertical space of onemile and horizontal space of 10 to 20miles includes nearly all types of plantsto be found within the entire state of Ari-zona. It is possible to descend in a fewhours from pines and firs to mesquite andcacti.



27/40

The South family have become printers and pub-lishers. The first type and press were homemade,the design for the press being studied from a post-age stamp with the aid of a magnifying glass. Theirfirst publication was a strictly limited edition, butbore the proud insignia of The Yaquitepec Press."Yaquitepec" for their abandoned wilderness homeon Ghost mountain at the edge of the Coloradodesert.

By MARSHAL SOUTH

RACKLE of burning wood in the grey light of dawnthe aromatic tang of smoke lifting like incense in thechill morning air. Before the sun climbs above the ridge

to eastward there is still the glitter of hoar frost upon the stemsof dry grass and upon the black piles of fallen brushwood. Rud-yard and Victoria have figured out a theory of their own to ac-count for hoar frost. To them the sparkling crystals are "frozenmoo nlight" a fanciful notion which despite error has muchto be said for it.

A wood fire is a subject which easily arouses enthusiasmnor is this reaction dependent upon chilly mornings. Cold orheat, dawnlight or dark the red flicker of fire flames throughdry wood calls forth a mysterious "something" in the heart ofevery man who is not an utter clod. Perhaps this is becausecampfires and freedom have been so closely linked together inman's history, ever since he clambered above the groping intel-ligence of the brutes. The campfire in the cave, the campfire in

the forest, upon the barren mountaintop, in the lone reaches ofthe desertaround those raw, leaping flames have always gath-ered the pioneers, the rebels, the defiant souls who would notwear the collar and chain of an ordered life fashioned by mass-minds.

Wood fires have solid, practical virtues about them too.There is more health to food cooked over wood flame. No otherheat, no matter how "modern" and highly endorsed or chrom-ium plated can begin to approach wood in its virtues of health-ful and flavorful cooking. Maybe your scientists will scoff loud-ly at this. No matter. Let them continue to tinker with theirgadgets and switches. But for a wholesome, satisfying meal, lit-erally bursting with goodness and with every last particle offlavor brought out to perfection, we barbarians of the wastelandwill vote for wood every time.

There is a logical explanation for this, for the thing is mostcertainly not "imagination." The reason is deep buried in lawsof which we know little. Fundamentally it is a matter of vibra-tion. Each different substance gives out a vibration that is pe-culiarly its own. There is a subtle difference in the quality of theheat given out by different fuels and heating methods. Thesedifferent vibrations act upon the food. And thus, directly, uponthe health of the eater.

In these days, modern housewives have brought about anavalanche of "refined" cooking methodsat who shall saywhat staggering costs in health. Even the devitalized "staff oflife" limping in pallid spinelessness, as though ashamed of itsspurious art-tan complexion, is only the hollow ghost of thosehusky bouncing loaves of crusty healthfulness which came fromthe bread baking ovens of our grandmothers. You found ashflakes on the under side of those loaves very often. And oc-casionally an honest black fragment of charcoal. But when you

Tanya stirs a stew cooking before the little mud oven.

bit into a slice from one of those loaves there was flavor andhealth; you were eating real food.

Sometimes, since we left Yaquitepec, I have been sorry thatwe ever built the tiny little mud oven that was our first home-making work. We set it up in the midst of the rocks and mes-cals in the wilderness of the mountain topcarrying the water

to make the mud for it up the mountain on our backs andtramping its adobe floor level with our bare feet. Its low, flat-tish dome was reared of juniper branches thickly covered withclay.

A little oven, but efficient. We baked bread in it and wecooked savory stews in black iron pots before the heat of itsopen door. Around it we built our home. Yet now, sometimesI am sorry that we ever made it. For the thi

194304 desert magazine 1943 april

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