198009 desert magazine 1980 september

8/14/2019 198009 Desert Magazine 1980 September

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SEPTEMBER, 1980 $1.50

H A W A I I ' ST R O P I C A L D E S E R T

A I N T I N G

!


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is

A new g un tha t carries onthe Ruger t radi t ion an engineer ingphiloso phy wh ich has prod uce d over the years aline of fine sporting

firearms, unique intheir high quality and handsom e design.This first Ruger Over andUnder Shotgun is a perfect-ly balanced, plain grade gun of elegant simplicity. Bythe Ruger definition, "plain grade" means precisionworkmanship and superior finish, with geometricallyaccurate curved shapes, plane surfaces which arefinelypolished and mechanical joints that are fitted to mini-mum hairline clearances.The unique new mechanism with rebounding ham-mers and single selective trigger provides positive safetyadvantages. The gun opens easily and closes solidly.The distinctive styling and unusually lowprofile are ac-centuated by the fact that there are no visible pins orscrews whatsoever. Barrels are hammer-forged, with 3"chambers and appropriate choke combinations, auto-matic ejectors and removable barrel side spacers. Thebarrels and dovetail hollow rib arepermanently assem-bled with strong silver solder joints. The stock andforearm are fully seasoned straight grain Americanwalnut, hand checkered andsatin finished.

Every feature of the new gun reflects traditionaRuger attention to detail and thehigh quality which theAmerican shooter has come to expect of all Ruger fire-arms. Initial production of the 20 gauge model will be

limited, with increasing numbers of guns becomingavailable in themonths tocome. Production of premium-grade 20gauge models and theintroduction of 12gaugemodels is anticipated for the future. See your RugeDealer or write for complete details and specifications

STORM, R U O T 1 & C om pav96 Lacey PlaceSouthport, Connecticut 06490 U.S.A.A L L R U G E R F IR E A R M S A R E D E S I G N E D A ND M A N U F A C T U R E D INR U G E R F A C T O R I E S INTH E U N I T E D S T A T E S OF A M E R I C A


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VOLUME 43 NUMBER 8 September, 1980CONTENTS"O h Lord, what a variety you h ave ma de! The earth is full of your riche s." Psalms 104:24

ISSN 0194-3405

Features T H E H O U S E O F/ T H E S U N b y J a n i c e O t tHawaii's Tropical Desert12

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T H E D I S A P P E A R I N G D U D ER A N C H by M i r ia m f tl d m a nComputerized Survivors of the TwentiesA B I T O F D E S E R TH O N E Y b y J u l i a C r a wThe Strange Lifestyle of the Wild Bee

J U S T I F I A B L E H O M I C I D E ,C A L I F O R N I AS T Y L E by E r n i e M a x w e l lThe True Story ofRamona

F O O D b y W a y n e P. A r m s t r o n gVegetable of the PapagosR I C H M O N D ,O R E G O N by E m i ly J . H o r sw i l lA Lively Ghost

^ 7 H O M E O N T H E N E V A D AM I D E S E R T b y D o n M il le rWhere Men Once Hung Their Hats* " !* "A TB^MJB

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T H E C A C T U S C I T YC L A R I O N M a r y E . T w y m a n , E d .The Nosiest Newspaper in the WestT H E L A N D O F W H I T ES H A D O W S b y B r u c e B . P i e r c ePainting Death ValleyA F T E R M O U N TS T . H E L E N S b y N i c k P r o v e n z aThe Fallout Disaster or Long-Term Boon?

/ S T H I R S T I N T H E C H I S O ST : O M O U N T A I N S by R i t a T e s s m a n nShe Lived to Tell about ItDepartmentsLETTERS 5EDITORIAL 6PRODUCTS OF THE MONTH . . . . 21DESERT ROCK HOUN D 36DESERT CALENDAR 37THE LIVING DESERT 45CHUCK WAGON COO KIN' 51DESERT BOO K SHOP 52TRADING POS T 54CoverOur cover shows a giant Saguaro cactusdramatically highlighted by a su mm erthundersto rm. Photo: Alpha PhotoAssociates


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T h e C A X T Q N P R I N T E R S , L t d .P . O . Box 700C a l d w e l l , I d a h o 8 3 6 0 5

W e take pride in the pro ductio n of fine boo ksfor the readers of Western American history with particular emphasis on the history of thePacific Northwest and the Rocky Mountainregion.Write for a Free Catalog.

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Metal Detectors, Geologists,Miners & Prospectors Supplies,T o p o Ma p s , Bo o k s .SEND FOR CATALOG:2 4 00 E . F o o t h i l l Bo u le v a r dPasadena, California 91107

In the Heart ot BeautifulCoachella ValleyPlan To Stay At TheSands Hotel o f Indian Wells

(1/4 mile east of Palm Desert]' Open Year-Round Children Welcom e 48 rooms & suites(kitchens available) ComplimentaryContinen tal BreakfastLarge Heated Pool

Colo r Television Individual AirCondit ioning (^^ ) App roved Mod erate Rates

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OtafcV j HOTEL I75 -188H ighway 111 ,Indian Wells, Calif. 92260Phone (714 ) 346-8 113

Notice t osubscr ibersDesert Magazine rents its mailing list.This means that other organizations,both for profit and nonprofit, can sendbulk m ailings to our subscriber list inretu rn for a fee. We limit the us e ofthese nam es to organizations webelieve to be reputable, and eve n'mailing piece must be subm itted to usfor approval befo re it is sent.If you would prefer not to receivemailings of this kind, write to Privacy,Desert Mag azine, P.O. Box 1318, PalmDesert, California 92261. Pleaseinclude a mailing label from a recentissue.If you wo uld like to have your n amerem oved from as many mailing lists aspossible, and not just DesertMagazine's, you sh ould write to MailPreference Service, 6 East 43rd Street,New York, N.Y. 10017. Th ey will t ell youhow to have your nam e deleted fromthe lists use d by most of the majormailers in the country.

PUBLISHED MONTH LY SINCE 1937EditorDona l d Ma c Dona l dAr t D i r e c t o r / P ho to E d i t o rT hom a s T hre i ne nP r o d u c t i o n D i r e c t o rBarry Berg

M a n a g i n g E di t o rMa ry E . T wyra a nA s s ' t . M a n a g i n g E d i to rPat I. Will iamsStaff P h o t o g r a p h e rGuy MotilA rt A s s o c i a t el ane Dive lC o n t r i b u t i n g E d i t o r sKa re n Sa us m a n , Na t u ra l Sc i e nc e sW a y ne P. Arm s t rong , N a t u ra l Sc i e nc e sJerry and Luisa Klink, Baja CaliforniaMe r l e H . Gra f fa m , Ca r t ogra phe rP r o d u c t i o n A s s i s t a n c eI a n G a r l a n dArlene Smi thS p e c i a l S e r v i c e sDoug Bun t i ngP u b l i s h e rDona l d Ma c Dona l dA s s o c i a t e P u b l i s h e r / A dv e r t i s i n g D i re c t o rDa ni e l D . W he d onM a r k e t i n g D i r e c t o rGeorge E . Sec torS u b s c r i p t i o n Ful f i l lmentGloria Smi thB u s i n e s s M a n a ge rMarjorie Mol ineC o u n s e lCheste r M. Ross

R e p r e s e n t e d b yN a t i o n a l A d v e r t i s i n g S a l e s , I n c .Robert E . Leyburn, Pres .l am es R. Lytle , Gen' l Mgr.750Thi rd A ve . , 29th FloorNew York, NY 10017(212) 682-7483Robert L . Sarra , I I, Reg . Mgr.435 N. Michigan Ave., Suite 1314Ch ica go , IL 60611(312)467-6240Rich ard F. Landy , Reg. Mgr.1680 Vine St., Suite 909Los An geles , CA 90028(213) 466-771 7

Li thographed in the U.S.A. by World Color Press World distribution by Dell Distributing Co. Inc. Offered in microfi lm by Xerox Universi ty Micro-films QUIP t r a ns m i s s i on a va i l a b l eD e s e r t M a g a z i n e (USPS 535230) i s publ i shedm o n t h l y b y C a c t u s P a p e r w o r k s , I n c . , 7 4 - 4 2 5Hig hw ay 111, P .O. Box 1318, Pa lm Desert , C A92261. Telephone: (714) 568-2781. O f f i c e r s : R. C.P a c k e r , P r e s i d e n t ; C h e s t e r M . R o s s , V i c e-P re s i de n t ; Dona l d Ma c Dona l d , V i c e -P re s i de n t ;Marjor ie Mol ine , Secre ta ry. Cont rol led c i rcula t ionpos tage pa id a t Sparta , I l linois an d a t addi t ion a lmail ing offices in the U.S.A. Co pyr igh t 1 980 byD e s e r t M a g a z i n e . All rights rese rv ed. N o pa rt oft h is pub l i c a t i on m a y be r e p ro duc e d i n a ny m a n -ner wi thout wri t t en permiss ion from the Publ i sher .S u b s c r i p t i o n R a t e s for U.S. and and i t s posses-s i o n s , C a n a d a a n d M e x i c o : 1-year, $ 1 0 . 0 0 ;2-years , $19,00. Elswhere : Add $4.00 per year(U.S. c ur re nc y) . T o S u b s c r i b e , R e n e w o r C h a n g eA d d r e s s : Wri te Deser t Magaz ine , P .O. Box 28816,San Diego, CA 92128. Please a l low s ix weeks forp roc e s s i ng a nd i nc l ude whe re a pp l i c a b l e t he a d -d re s s l a be l f rom t he m os t r e c e n t c opy o f t heMa ga z i ne . E xa ct z ip c ode s a re m a nda t o ry . Donorsof gi ft sub scr ip t ions sho uld inc l ud e the i r ow nna m e a nd a ddre s s a s we l l a s t hos e o f t he r e c i p -ient(s). P OST MAST E R: SE ND CHANGE OF AD-DRE SS T O DESERT M AGAZINE. P.O. BOX 28816,S A N D I EG O , C A 9 21 2 8. C o n t r i b u t i o n s : The Editorw e l c o m e s u n s o l i c i t e d m a n u s c r i p t s a n d p h o t o -g ra phs whi c h w i l l be r e t u rne d only i f a c c om pa -nied by SASE, or enve lope wi th inte rna t iona l ex-c ha nge c oupons . W hi l e m a t e r i a l w i l l be t r e a t e dwi th care whi le in our possess ion, we cannot as-sume responsibi l i ty for loss or damage . Payment i supon acceptance . Wri te rs Guide free wi th SASE;sam ple copy, $ 1.50.


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Waste N o t , Want N o tAn ominous mailing from the U.S.

Environ men tal Protection Agency, Office ofWater and Hazard ous Waste, in Arlington,Virginia, tells us we "had b een identified asone which (sic) may possibly hand lehazardous waste" and that said mailing wasdesign ed to assist us in determ iningwhe ther we wer e affected by newhazardou s waste regulations and, if so, toassist us in comp lying with the law.Although t he EPA adm itted, after w e hadcontacted them , that they we re a little offtarget in thinking that magazines, new orused, we re ha zardous , it is true thatpublications of all kinds generate a lot ofwaste and that publishers are concerned bythis. And, unfortunately, the higher thegraphic standards of the publication, theless likely its chemically-coated pap ercontent can be econom ically recycled.Com mon , garden-variety newsp rint is themost valuable item on today's waste pape rmarket.The wasteful mailing was of indirectbenefit , though, in that i t pro mp ted meresearch w aste the utterly astoundingamo unt generate d by civilized co untriesand the United States in particular.My research tells me Americansconsu me ov er 4 billion tons of good s and

materials each year. That's approximately200 million truck-trailer loads or, if thesegood s we re shippe d by rail, the trainhauling our annual needs would stretchnearly 75 times arou nd the earth'scircumference. And from tho serou ndh ous e figures on e gains an idea ofthe litter created by just one civilizedcountry and its peoples, for matter cannotbe destroyed. It returns to wh ence it came,soon er or later, and mostly in unu sableform. Even the cartons and crates used forship ping mu ch of this stuff would fill atrain almost as long if they we re allreturned for reuse.The aluminum in empty cans, the ru bbe rin old tires and the hydrocarb ons in plasticbottles represent waste of increasinglyscarce natural resources and ther e is acommonality of those twin national goals conservation and cleanliness.Com mon sense shou ld tell us that if westop manufacturing throwaway containers,then w e will no long er have to pick themup and, in turn, we will save energyrequired for their manufacture. Recyclingthe raw materials from which th econtainers are m ade is but a partialsolution, first becaus e reprocessingconsumes energy and secondly becausehum an nature b eing what it is, only afraction of these materials will be returned.

The rest is tossed, so perhaps we should goback to fetching o ur b eer in a pail.Unlikely, you say? Perhaps not. Let'simagine a day in Mother's life come thenew age of waste-free distrib ution, justtaking that ninety minutes or so she spendsshopping for groceries. In her cupboardare row s of sturdy, clearly labeledcontainers of various, standardizedcapacities. She already has or th ere isavailable a suitable reusable container forevery grocery item she could conceivablywant that does not come pre wrap ped like abanana by nature. She takes these dow n tothe new-age supermarket and has themrefilled.

Some foods, of course, might never beadapted to the new system. But do w ereally need aerosol dessert topping, liquidcheese in tubes, biscuit dough in acylinder, or lemon juice in a plastic lemon?TV dinn ers, if they're wh at's bothe ring y ou,could be pack ed with real tableware wh ichcould be either collected or return ed.Imagine TV china as the su ccessor todep ressio n glass at the yard sales ofthe future!Dispense with paper sacks. Sturdy,stylized shopping bags like Grandma usedto use again and again would b e o nesolution . And, too, I don't have a readyanswer to compliance withtruth-in-labeling laws under this newsystem, as the re w ould be veiy few, if any,labels other than generic identification onthe reusab le containers. But then, the rewould be fewer cancer scares. Or, areference bo ok could be com piled if youinsist on knowing that dried whey anddisodium succinate are among theingredients that help make Tuna Helperso tasty.

I anticipate resistance to this prop osal.Maybe I sho uld withdraw it in favor ofanother. I remember reading thatpaperwork generated by government costsindustry $116 billion annually. To put thatsum in perspective, the com bined netprofits of all U.S. nonfinancial corp oratio nsin 1978, a very goo d year, was only $61.5billion.

So, let's just eliminate the paperw ork,like the above-mentioned mailing from theEnviro nmen tal Pro tection Agency. If anywaste can be labeled "dangero us," if anysingle habit is more likely to defoliate o urtrees, it is the mind-boggling generation offorms by Washington which, in turn,generates more forms needed for reply.

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Authorized by the National Park Service Send color Fate brochures on: Mead/Mohave PowellName __ . _ _ 'Address - _ _ ICity . - State ZipMail to:Del UlBbb Recreational PropertiesB o x 2 9 0 4 0 , P h o e n i x , A Z 8 5 0 3 8


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This page:Haleakala's summit rises over 10,000 feet above sea level. Shown is a portion ofthe westslope, whose backside is a favorite playground for bangliders. photo: Aaron Chang.Inset: A lone backpacker treks acrossthe trail which traverses the crater, photo: Don King


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east from the w est rim, across the cinder cones that texture the cratera view of clouds creeping into Kaupo Gap. photo: Aaron Chang

waifs Tropical DesertTHE HOUSEOF THE SUNM aui, the demigod creator of islands, objected to theswiftness of the sun's journey across the sky, for there wasnever enou gh daylight for h is people to complete theirdaily tasks, so he went to the great mou ntain which thesun passed over each day and, as the sun's rays creptover the mountain, M aui snared them and held themcaptive with his ropes. "Give me my life,"pleaded the sun."Only if you promise to go more slowly across the sky,"replied M aui. And to this day, the sun m oves very slowlyacross the heavens; and the great mountain is known asHaleakala, the House of the Sun.*by Janice Ott


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HE HOUSE OF THE SUN,"translated from the Hawaiianname Haleakala (pronouncedHolly-ah-ca-la), is a hugevolcanic mountain thatdom inates the H awaiianisland of Maui and cradlesone of the largest and mostunique craters in the world.So unusual is this crate rthat as early as 1919, thegovernment recognized i tsvalue and inc luded it in the Hawaii National Park system.In I960, it obtained separate status to become HaleakalaNational Park.Haleakala is not th e typical palm tree s and balmybeache s Hawaiians expe rience. Desert enthusiasts willfeel an immediate affinity with the barren, erodeddepression while less hardy folk who gaze at the vastpanoram ic mo on scene from th e r im's edge may bedismayed by the bleak desolation of the crater's interior.Steeped in legend and myth, the great mountain's baserises from the blu e Pacific w aters to a majestic height of

10,000 feet. The inte rior bo wl, formed by rain, wind, andstream erosion, drops nearly 3,000 feet whe re theelements have carved two long valleys that eventuallymerg e in the mo untain c ore. The slumb ering volcano inlater eruptions splattered the crater bo ttom with lavarock, cinders, ash and volcanic bomb s.Arrival at the 10,000 foot crater sum mit sho uld b etimed , if possib le, to enjoy the spe ctacu lar view at sunriseor sun set from Pakaoao Hill. Mark Twain, in 1866, rodehorseback to the tip of Haleakala and eulogized thecolorful sunrise as "... the sublimist spectacle I have everwitnessed and I think the mem ory will remain with m ealways."In clear weather, you can see more than 100 miles outto sea includ ing th e n eighb oring islands of Hawaii, Lanai,Molokai, and Oahu.If you are fortunate, you might even experience theSpecter of the Brocken so named becau se the samephenomenon occurs on Mount Brocken in Germany.When the crater is cloudy and the sun low in the sky, yourshadow may be projected on the clouds if your body isbetw een the clouds and th e sun. If enough mist is presentin the air, the shadow image may be encircled by arainbow, c reatin g a halo effect.From the rim, the 7-1/2 mile long and 2-1/2 mile widevalley interio r seem s incapa ble of sup portin g life. The onlyappearance of softness in the harsh environment is

t carpet of tenacious veg etation adds.a green hue to a west facing slope,'some 2.DOO.feet '' above the crater floor, phofti: Aaron Chang Turright top: The northern haLfofHaleakala is quitedry and barren (foreground), in contrast to thesouthern area, which enjoys more exposure tomoisture and rainfall (backdrop), photo: AaronChang, bar right bottom: The hardy silver sworiH. Indigenous to the Haleakala area oyijy, ihny'tvtll- :occasionally sprout stalks up t


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the m uted, vari-colored tones of thevolcanic formations, m ostly b leachedblacks, greys, and s ubtle v ariations of pinkand oran ge. Many of the thirty miles of trailstraversing the cra ter are visible from thishigh vantage p oint, as little vegetationexists to limit the extended view.Symmetrical cinder cones pim ple thecrater f loor. The enorm ous burned-outvents, some over 600-feet high, created inthe once powderful cauldron, areremin ders that this is a dorm ant, notextinct, volcano whose latent energy mayerupt again some day. Although the lastvolcanic outburst occurred in the late 18thCentury, earthquake records testify thatinternal discord still festers in the deepdepths of the earth's bowels. It is notdifficult to imagine what an aw esom e sightthe furnaces must have been in theiroriginal, fiery display.

In the distance, across the e erie cosmicterrain , Paliku is barely dis cerna ble; acontrasting patch of green against thewatercolored pastel hues of the cindercones the delicate beauty enhanced bythe silence that dominates th e scene.IF YOU WANT Acloser look at thecone-stud ded ca uldron, you willhave to enter o n foot or arrangefor a horse, as no roads p enetratethe crater, although you can seeremnants of the ancient Hawaiianroadway that l inked the eastern end of theisland to the we stern end . It is several feetwide and paved with smo oth, ocean-wornstones hauled from the beach es severalthousand feet below. The old trail issometimes referred to as the "KingsHighway."Two main hiking trails lead into thebasin. Halemauu at 8,000 feet and SlidingSands at 9,800 feet. B oth cross th e cra terand meet at Paliku. There are several shortconn ecting routes along th e way. It iscustom ary to ente r via Sliding Sands Trail(it is very steep ), and to exit by Halem auuTrail or Kaupo Gap.Good vibram-soled boots arerecommended for all the trails consisteither of loose cinders or hardened,fragmented lava stones whose sharp edgesseem to penetra te even heavy soles.

The landscape is unreal as you d escend;a lunar decor straight from a Hollywoodscience-fiction set. The weird, fantasticsight of cinder cones amidst surrealisticlava formations tantalizes th e im aginationand stirs the soul.The crater bottom reveals evidences oflife not visible from the rim . The mostspectacular of the sparse, tenaciousvegetation is the rare ahinahina(gray-headed), silversword plant, easilyidentified by the silver spikes at its base.The spikes are covered with silky hairwhich enab le the plant to retain moistureby reflecting the s un's rays.To wester ners, the silverswordresembles the yucca plant but instead,belongs to the sunflower family. Sometimebetw een its sixth to twentieth year, it

sprouts a laree blossom w ith hun dred s ofpur ple flowers that soon wither and theparent silversword dies, leaving seeds toperpe tuate th e species. At one time,silverswords were endangered byunthinking humans and feral animals butthey are making a comeback und er theprote ction of the Park Service.A short side-trip takes you to B ubbleCave, formed when a gas bub blesupported the surrounding molten lavauntil it cooled and hardened. Entrance intothe cave became p ossible when part of theroof collapsed. It is a uniqu e place for asnack or rest break.The first structu re rea ched is KapalaoaCabin (5.8 miles from the trailhe ad), one ofthe three cabins within the crater that the

adaptation to u wuicrlcss hab itat is theevolvement of less webbing between itstoes. The go ose is the Hawaiian State Birdand had to be re introdu ced to the island in1962 beca use of near extinction bypredators, both human and animal. Someof the birds are friendly and mayapproach you.To the south lies the usually cloud-engulfed Kaupo Gap. The prevailingtradewinds and rain have unevenly er odedthe crater's slopes, producing a naturalpassageway out of the valley without th eneed for climbing. However, do not plan touse this exit unless you are in extremelygood physical condition and have madearrangements for someone to meet you atKaupo village, for hitch-hiking

The enormous burned-out vents,some over 600 feet high, arereminders that this is a dormant,not extinct, volcano.Park rents, for a nom inal fee, toovern ighters. The verda nt lawn offers arespite from the heat, yet is incongruouswith the environment. This distracts fromthe more delicate desert image and givesthe suggestion of habitation, not thepreferred mood of solitude.If you have arran ged, in advance, withthe park service to stay in the cabin, youwill have time to explore the slopesbehind , where, on a high ledge, theremains ofabeiau, a structure probablyused for religious cerem onies by earlyHawaiians, can be found along with otherencampments.

Feral goats also frequent th e slopes.Introduced to the island by Captain JamesCook in the late 1700s, they are a m enaceto the rare indigenous flora within thecrater but they are entertaining to watch.If you are tenting for the night, it will benecessary to travel on to Paliku or Holuafor no cam ping is allowed at Kapalaoa.Paliku is roughly ten m iles from eithertrailhead so you are p ushing it to make th ehike in one day and still have enoughenergy and time for exploring.F ^ AI.IKU (VERTICAL CLIFF)A strikes the weary traveler as an0 oasis in the desert. Trees andlush vegetation testify to thefrequent rainfall on thisnortheast cor ner of the crater.Clouds spilling over the rim from thewindward slopes pro duc e up to 250 inchesof rain a year, creating a parad oxicalgarden within the otherwise sparselyfurnished crater. Rain ponchos are almostalways n eeded .The area is populated with bothindigenous and introduced foliage. Here,you want to watch for sight of the nen ebird, a goose w hose m ost obvious

oppo rtunities are qu ite slim. Cars passinfrequently and usually are too small tocarry extra people with backpacks.Kaupo Gap trail is steep, a 6,000-footdescent in eight miles over rough terrain.Once you reach the dirt road near thebeach (ten miles from Paliku), you stillhave many miles before you reachcivilization.A side-trip from Paliku, if you aren't tootired or so re, is a climb up thenon-m aintained Lauulu trail (a zig-zag 2.3miles), for excellent views of the crater andHana coast. If you have no t reserv ed thePaliku Cabin be sur e to carry a tent with agood rain-fly and strong enough towithstand high winds.The return trek from Paliku Cabin toHolua Cabin via the H alemau u Trail passesthe B ottom less Pit, Haleakala's sipapu ornavel. It is actually an old splatter vent, witha ten foot op ening form ed by extremelyhot gases and lava blasted through fromdeep inside. Early Hawaiians believed itextended down to sea level. Theydeposited the umbilical cords of newbornsinto the pit to insure the child's healthand honesty.

Not far from the pit is Pele's Paint Potwhose splashed bright colors delight theeye; an effect achieved from the presenceof many different minerals in the magnum.Holua is the last cabin on the circuitousroute. Th ere ar e several caves and lavatubes to exp lore in the vicinity if you hav e aflashlight ha'ndy. Archaeologists havediscovered bodies of early Hawaiiansburied in some of the caves.The exit up Halemauu Trail is an easy1,400 feet ascent in 3.9 miles on a series ofswitchbacks which leads you to the Parkroad. M agnificent views of the easternportion of the crater will entertain youraesthetic senses on the up ward trek, BJ


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DisappearingDude RanchPhotographs and Story B y Miriam FeldmanOverrunby

urbansprawla n d the highcost of doingbusiness,Arizona's guestranch es nownu m ber lessthan ten.

ClydeDavis,headwrangleratWhiteStallionRanch

OF the toughestdecisions Bob Cote has made as m anagerof the Tan que Verde Guest Ranch was toput his cowboys and wranglers on a timeclock. "The concep t is just not there fortho se p eop le," Cote said. " "What me,punc h in a clock?'" he said, recalling their

reaction to the chang e. " 'Hell, I'll just wo rkall day long if I have to. '"The federal gov ernmen t, however, isindifferent to the cowboys' complaints.They had a right to overtime pay, thegovernment insisted, and although Cotepaid his employees overtime before hehad a time clock, he did not hav e anovertime formula, which the governmentalso requi red . With fifty em ploy ees tosupervise, time clocks were the only wayCote could keep his records straight andsatisfy the government.Although time clocks are now at hom eon th e rang e, the Arizona ranc h still offersa western exp erience to the traveler.Arizona conjures up images of the wildwest, Cote said. Many of his guests travelthere to "ride where the cowboys andIndians fought."The wild west is disappearing though.Today, no ranches are left insmog-shrouded Phoenix. Sprawlingdevelop men t in Tucson has taken up landneed ed by ranches for horseback riding, sothe num ber of ranches dwindles everyyear. "The dud e ranch b reed is dying out,"


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said Patti Spaulding of the Tucson Con-vention and Visitors Bureau.Less than ten ranches remain, and thosethat do, like Tanq ue Verde or Cynthia andAllen True's White Stallion, exist for anum ber of reasons, not the least of whichis the determination and go od businesssense of the owne rs. Computers are usedto analyze gue st lists; e.g., 22 perc ent ofTanqu e Verde guests are from Illinois, an dCalifornia sends more guests to WhiteStallion than any othe r state. Cote has hiredGerman-speaking employees to help withthe heavy influx of tourists from that nationeach summ er. True visited thirteenEuropean countries in 45 days to meet withtravel and airline agents to spread the wordabou t White Stallion. The gues t ranch is nota haphazard business.

person who can wrangle cows and at thesame time turn aroun d and be ho spitableto a lot of guests." In 1950, seven yearsbefore Cote's family bought Tanque Verde,the last cow was sold and th e ranch cateredonly to guests.Bob Cote, 44, is over six-feet tall, andalthough he is heavy set, he is not fat. Hishair is slightly graying around the temples.His blue eyes are set off by a chunk ofturqu oise that hangs from a string tiearound his neck. He is dressed in bluejeans, a work shirt and a Mexican-style vest.Ten years ago Cote was an academ icwork ing on a Ph.D. in ag riculturalecono mics at the U niversity of Tokyo inJapan. It was there he learned Japanese, a

Before the ranch season opened, Cote^sfamily asked him to run the place , just fo rone winter. Feeling obligated, and yieldingto parental pressure , Cote agreed. He ha sbeen th ere ever since."Peo ple always ask, 'How can you leavethe Ph.D. field and com e run a guestranc h?'" C ote says the two a re similar. Inboth cases, he is involved in his work 24hou rs a day. As an acad emic h e was alwaysthinking about his work. "Here , I'm on call24 hours a day," he said of the ra nch."If I had to d o a banker's job orwhatever, wh ere I had a specified hou r andafter that hour I had to go do somethingelse, well that wou ld b e a real chan ge inmy life," Cote adde d, -mm**-

' GET to Tanque VerdeGuest Ranch you travel down SpeedwayBoulevard, the longest street in Tucson. Itrun s the length of the city from the Tu csonMountains in the west to the Rincons in theeast. Speedway is cluttered with GoldenArches, Taco Bells, shopping centers andtraffic. In h is TV ser ies on Am erica, AlistairCooke once referred to Speedway as theugliest street in America. A Tucson ian, w hothought he kn ew better, disputed Cooke.Speedway isn't even the ugliest street inTucson, he said.Heading east on Speedway, towards theranch, the city and its unplanned sprawlretreat. Fewer and fewer new hous es andcondo minium s are seen. Pecan grovesappear, along with older homestead s onacres of land. At the very e nd of this ro ad,where Tucson ends and the mountains andnational forest begin, is the Tanque VerdeGuest Ranch,Guest ranches. Dude ranches. Th ere'snot much agreem ent on what to call them.Tanque Verde is the oldest ranch inTucson , built in 1858. Most of the othe rs inthe valley we re b uilt soon after. They allstarted as working ran ches places wher ecattle we re raised for profit. In the 1920s,many of the ranches started to take guests,too. Dudes w ere the guests who came tostay on the ranc hes.

The story goes that when the ranchown ers sent their cowboys to meet guestsat the train station, the cowboys wo uld jokeand say, "We won't have any tro ublepicking them out, because they'll bedress ed like du des ." City folk from the Eastcame dressed to the nines in western garb.

GuesthouseatWhiteStallion1 t

p

1 takes; AND dudes don'talways mix, is a com mo n saying in the area.As Cote puts it, "It takes a rather talented

BobCotelanguage he speaks so well that on thepho ne he cannot b e distinguished from anative. When h e greets his Japan ese gu estsin their tongue, "it blows their mind."It was also ten years ago that Cote wasback hom e (he's from Edina, Minnesota)writing his thesis. (For many years hisfamily own ed a boy's and a girl's camp inBrainerd, also in Minnesota. They boughtthe Arizona ranch as a place to em ploytheir camp staff during the winter months.)

talentedperson whocan wranglecows an dturn aroundan d b eh ospitable to alot of guests."


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EVERYBODY falls intothe guest ranch life as effortlessly as BobCote. For som e, it was a delibe ratedecision. Allen and Cynthia True haveow ned the White Stallion Ranch forfourteen years, but a ranch was not alwaysin the cards for them. The Trues wanted toescape the cold Denver w inters, andArizona was whe re they w anted to be. Atfirst, they thou ght of moving to Scottsdaleor Phoenix, but "they were so big we didn'twant to go the re," Allen True said.True, an engineer who had worked withoil companies in Denver, had a three-pagelist of job possibilities in Arizona. At thevery bottom of that list, according toCynthia True, were the nam es of threeguest ranches for sale. She recalls how shetold her hu sba nd to forget the ran ches there was no way she would live on o ne."Famous last words," said Cynthia Trueas she stood in the loun ge at White Stallion,surrounded by guests who were dr inking,playing cards and backgamm on, andtalking about how cold it was back home.

On e by one, ;hat thre e p age list wasnarrowed; the possibilities either were tooexpensive or just no t right. Finally, theTrues stayed at White Stallion for abou t aweek, and at the end of their visit CynthiaTrue said, "You know, if I could get up inthe m orning and look at that mo untain,let's buy it."The place was "awful" when they boughtit. It did not have a hous e for the Trues andtheir two sons on e five and the othe r aninfant. It had only four small guest hou sesand limited recreation facilities. TodayWhite Stallion has thirty guest units, aseparate ho me for the T rues, a Jacuzzi andhot tub, a swimm ing poo l, tennis courts, arenovated dining room and enough guineahens and peacocks to keep away therattlesnakes.

no major cons t ru c t i on pro^cc s are.foreseen. Most of Cynthia True's job is"sitting behind a typewriter, writing lettersand doing reservation charts."

IS no typical dayfor either Cote or True, but neither mangets involved with riding, the m ajor ranchrecreation. Wranglers and cowboys arehired to tend h orses and rid e with guests.

'I think my'main job isto go aroun dan d see thatsome peoples'nerves aren't

getting onsomebodyelse's nerves."

Cote says it is difficult to d esc rib e atypical day, although much of his time isspent in an office. If a clerk is absent, heworks the desk. He organizes the rides andhe m akes sure the wranglers are at work,the kitchen help is going and the rest of thefifty staff members are doing their jobs. "Ithink my main job is just to go arou nd andsee that some p eople s' nerves aren'tgetting on som ebody else's nerves,"Cote said.

Allen True rarely rides with his gu estsbecause h e does not have the time.However, the Trues have done everythingthemselves on their ranch, includingdesigning new buildings and remodelingold ones. "There isn't anything on theranch really that I haven't do ne at one tim e,even including cooking dinner," AllenTrue said. "I've taken rides out, I've was heddishes, I've cleaned rooms, I've donelaundry."

Today the Trues have built up the ranchto a point where it is almost complete and

THE early years th oug h,she spent most of her time raising theirtwo bo ys. Raising a family on a ranch has itsproblems, she said. "I think the bad part ofit is that these boys are raised likemilliona ire's kids. They sure as heck aren 't.But you know, they have tennis courtsaround and horses. They have a swimm ingpoo l. They have all the advantages that amillionaire's kids would have, but ofcourse they aren't. I just wond er howthey're goin g to like it when they go ou t inthe cold cruel world."Raising a family on a ranch p oses aprob lem for Cote, as well. He and his wifeDee Dee W orthing, a St. Louis Park w om an,have two ch ildren , five-year-old Brett andCarra, two."The problem with raising children inan environment such as this is theypotentially becom e very spoile d, ' Cotesaid. "You can't discipline y our child ren,"he said, recalling several experiences withBrett. Brett's feelings might get hurt if he'spunished, but he'll quickly befriend aranch guest "and then all his bad feelingsare erased," Cote said. "That's hardon a kid."Cynthia Tru e says that he r two sons talk

about taking over the ranch some day, butshe hopes they find som ething else to do."I don't approve," she said. "I thinkeverybody ought to get out and m ake hisown way in the world."Cote says he is an excep tion and thatsons seldom take ranches over fromfathers. One reason he took over hisfamily's business is that he never had seenthe ranch until he went down to manage it."Usually som ebo dy sells it and you g et anew family to run it," Cote said. "Thereason is, I think, that the sons se e ho wmuch work it is and decide that they don't

want to have any thing to d o with it." Thatalso accounts for the declining num ber ofranche s, Cote said.Both Cote and True agreed that ranchesare also disappearing b ecause they havebee n overgro wn by the city. White Stallionwith 1,500 ac res, and Tanq ue Verde with480, have survived because of their sizeand becau se of their location both arebuffered by national land.Ranches are also vanishing be caus e it isnot a profitable business, True said."Without going into it in great detail, forthe amount of work and the amo unt ofinvestment yo u've got, you do not showreturn on your money."Despite these drawbacks. True says hewouldn't stay in the business if he did norenjoy it. "The way I best sum it up is, youbuy a way of life."S>]


15/56

A Bit ofu

B Y J U L I A C R A W.AN'S associationwith the honeybeereaches back 30,000years and probablymuch more. A cave

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paintin g of that age in Valencia, Spainshows a stone Age hunter climbing a cliffwall to rob a wild bee hive. By the age ofthe Pharaohs the bees had beendomesticated and Egyptian beekeeperswere floating their mud and straw apiariesup and down the Nile River, letting theirsubjects out to harvest the riverside cropsas they came in season.When the Hebrew p eople went out ofEgypt into the desert they followed theLord's promise to deliver them into a "land

of milk and honey." From w here th e milkwould have come is debatable but there islitt le doubt that the honey w ould be foundin cracks and crevices of the limestonecliffs and caves of the Palestinian dese rt;pro du ce of the thistles, the cacti, all thethorny, prickly flowered plants of thedesert, stored bv wild desert bee s.

ALL THE DlN ALL THE DESERTS of th e wo rldbut ours, honeybees were there ahead ofman. There were n o native honeyb ees inNorth America when the first Europ eansarrived. Black and go ld Italians and thegentle Caucasian honey-makers were thefirst livestock importations to the new land,broug ht in by the Spanish explorers andproselytizing padres early in the 16thCentury. From the crow ded mission hivesthe bees swarm ed to the edges of thedeserts, swarmed and swarmed again,spreading and inhabiting all parts of theirnew wo rld. After 500 years all parts of ou rland know the honeyb ee, oncedomesticated and now gone wild andbeco me such a natural part of ourenviro nm ent that we accept it withoutthought or notice as having alwaysbeen there .The wild honeyb ee's hive is one of thedesert's best-kept and amazing secrets. Fewpeople realize they are there and whenyou do you ar e hard pu t to find one. Whenyou encounter bees on a desert flowermore than two mies in any direction froman apiary, you can be certain there is a hivehidden in the brush or rocks somew herewithin that two-mile radius. But knowing itis the re is one th ing finding it quiteanother. You can search sur roun dingledges of rock, watching and listening forsight or sound of their well-hidden hom e,or you can use a bait box and syrup to"bee-line" them to their hive. But neithermeth od is easy nor gua ranteed successful.Desert be es, warm, well-fed, content, aredocile and quiet and almost invisiblearoun d the hive. It is quite possib le andvery proba ble, even, that you will passunaw are within arm's reach.(Le ft ) De s e r t b e e s ne s t in r ockc r e v a s s e s w e ll c a m o u f la g e dfr om c a s u a l o b s e r v a t i o n .

An average beehiv e will hold from50,000 to 100,000 bees, ru led by a singlequeen. When a hive becomes crowdedbee s will select a particular larva (a babywo rker be e), give it a special cell and startfeeding it the mys terious royal jelly whichwill turn it into a new q ueen . When th ebaby quee n hatches and is ready to depart,a part of the worker b ee po pulation willsurroun d her an d "swarm" with her . Fromthe sw arm, as it flies, scouts go ah ead tochoose a new hom e. In inhabited countryit may be an o penin g in an old building,near woods it will be a hollow tree orfallen log. In the des ert they have nochoice but rocks and here they will seek acrack with openings behind it largeenoug h to hold an adequate supply ofhoney comb for the future colony.

mescjuite li^ht amber, sturd y rabbit brus hdark and strong but pleasant to taste.Nectar from every blosso m in the area willbe sto red in som e of the shining vaults the yucca, the prickly pear, the ironwo od,the agave, the sunflower, the aster, the sandverbena, the canyon rose, and thegreasewood. The wild honeybee may havetier preference but she neglects no sourceof sweetness available to her in its season.

IJKL'Y ISY IS CLAIMED by thos e wh opresumably have had the time to countthem that the honeybee will visit 100

he ho ne yb e e w i ll fly adi s tanc e equ a l t o fou rt r an s co n tinen t a l t r ip s t o p r o du c ea s i ngle p o u n d o f ho n e y .

EERINERING INTO a desert beeh ive islooking into a miracle of color, form an dharmony. The queen in her broodchamber is the focus of the hive, hangingin a well-guarded position near theentrance, a position chosen for m aximumprotection, care and h omag e. If you areluck}' enough to find a hive and luckier stillin finding on e with loose rock w hich canbe moved w ithout und ue disturban ce, it isquite possible to exam ine the m iracle, useyour camera on it, and even sample thewild honey without alarming theworker bees.Beyond the queen's chambers, inwhatever direction the rock fissuresextend, hang the layers upon layers ofgolden honey com b. Each individual waxcell, a perfect hex agon al prism , will bema de no t only to fit into all the oth er cellsbut to conform to the rock surfaces towhich it is attached with exact symm etry.Break off a loade d slab a nd take it with you.Replace the rocks and return next season,and you will find th e em pty space filledwith a new com b as perfect as the old.The transluscent honey cells, filled andcapped for storage, glow in varying shadesof color, from palest blond e to darkamber dep ending on the blossoms fromwhich the nectar was gathered. Scarletpentstem on will be white, feathery

blossoms to collect one-third of a dro p ofhoney. And that sh e will fly a distance equalto four transcontinental trips to produ ce asingle po und . Yet it is not unus ual to find adesert beehive containing fifty pounds ofsurplus honey. Old ones have beenobserve d which w ere actually overflowingwith honey seeping from the cracks ofthe rocks.But deser t ho ney, sw eet as it is, is not theonly boo n conferred upo n us by the bees.For 50,000,000 years hone ybees have bee nhelping to create a prettier world. Thewo rke r b ees of a single h ive will visit anestimated 250,000 blossoms daily. Witheach visit they collect and distribu te fromblossom to blossom th e fertilizing pollennecessary to the plant's rep roduc tion.Without this distribution of pollen, thescientists tell us, as man y as 100,000 spec iesof plant might be altered or disappear fromthe earth entirely. Without the be e and thegolden dust it carries on its legs, thedeserts would be less radiant after a rain,more true desert of lifeless rock.

So , wheth er or not we ever open a wildbeehive or sam ple wild honey, we are stillthe recipient of the bee's con tribution todesert beauty. Buzzing and dipping oversage and cactus and prickly poppy, he ishelping to preserve the color and the lifeof the dese rt. Was Isaiah thinkin g of th ehoneybee w hen h e said, "The wildernessand th e solitary places shall be glad forthem; and the desert shall rejoice andblossom as the rose?' 0DRSF.RT 17


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The real-lifeRamona bore littleresemblance to herromanticizedcharacterization byRaquel Welch andothers in theannual festivaldepicting her life.

18 SEPTEMBER, 1980


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THE TRUE STORY O F RAMONA

JUSTIFIABLE HOMIQ DECALIFORNIA-STYLE

A killing that might havegone unnoticed in thiscountry becam e the focus ofnational attention becauseof a determined womanwho crusaded for bettertreatment of CaliforniaIndians. With the incidentshe not only stirred reformbut made famous the nameofRamona.

by ERNEST MAXWELL

T 1 HE EVENT THAT prov ide d He lenHunt Jackson with the m uch-need ed climax for her crusadewas the sho oting of Juan D iego, a CahuillaIndian, March 24,188 3. He was shot t odeath by Samuel Temple, a white man andreside nt of San Jacinto. The killing tookplace in the doorway of the Indian's hom ein the mountains southwest of Hemet andSan Jacinto. His wife, Ramona, w itnessedthe shooting.Her husband had b een accused ofstealing Temple's horse the previous day inSan Jacinto. Juan D iego had left his ownpony at the livery stable and ridden thewhite man's larger animal up the mountaintrail to the cou ple's cabin.Since it was the law of the times that noIndian co uld testify against a white pe rson ,Ramona's version was never entered incourt records. Instead, Temple's accountwas accepted. He plea ded self defense andwas freed on justifiable hom icide. The juryconsisted of twelve white men.The case was tried in the Justice Court ofSan Jacinto tow nship. Presiding was Justiceof the Peace Samue l V. Tripp w ho hadcom e west in 1849, moved to SanBer nard ino in 1860 and to San Jacinto inabout 1869. The official rec ord r eads :

I N T H E J U S T IC E C O U R T O F S ANJACINTO TO WN SHIP. THE PEOPLE OFTHE STATE OF CALIFORN IA VS.SAMU EL T EMPLE. ACT IO N:JUSTIFIABLE HO M ICIDE.MARCH 24TH A.D. 1883P e r s o n a l l y a p p e a r e d b e f o r e m eS a m u e l T e m p l e a n d m a k e s t h e

f o l lo w i n g s t a t e m e n t ( n a m e l y ) t ha t h eh a s t h i s d a y c o m i t t e d j u s t i f ia b l eh o m i c i d e u p o n a n I nd ia n s u p p o s e d tob e o n e J u a n D i e g o a n d u n d e r t h ef o l lo w i n g c i r c u m s t a n c e s ( v i z ) t h a t h e ,t h e s a i d T e m p l e , f o l l o w e d t h e t r a c k so f a h o r s e s t o l e n fr o m h i m la s t n i g h tf r o m t h e c o r r a l o f H e w i t t & J o r d o n i nS a n J a c i n t o a n d t ha t t h e t r a c k s l e a d t ot h e h o u s e o f s a id J u a n D i e g o a n d t ha tt h e r e h e s a w h i s ho r s e a n d u p o ni n q u i r i n g w h o s e h o r s e i t i s , J u a nD i e g o a p p r o a c h e d h i m w i t h a k n i fe i nh i s h a n d a n d r e p l i e d i t i s m i n e . A n df u r t h e r T e m p l e a s k e d w h e r e d i d y o ug e t t h e h o r s e ? I g o t h i m i n S a n J a c i n t o ,a l l t h i s t i m e a p p r o a c h i n g i n at h r e a t e n i n g m a n n e r , w h e r e u p o nT e m p l e a ll e g e s t ha t h e o r d e r e d h i m t os t o p . A n d t h e I n d i a n d i d n o t h e e d t h eo r d e r w h e r e u p o n T e m p l e s a ys , I s h o th i m w i t h s h o t g u n w h i c h I c a r r i e d a n da s t h e I n di a n d i d n o t s t o p c o i n i n g Is h o t a g a i n a n d h a d t o u s e t h e b u t (sic)e n d o f m y g u n . A n d I t o o k m y h o r s ea n d r e t u r n e d t o S a n J a c i n t o .S w o r n a n d s u b s c r i b e d to b e f o r e m et h i s 2 4 t h d a y o f M a r c h A .D . 1 8 8 3 .( s ) S . V . T r i p p , J .P .

Temple demanded a trial in his ownbehalf for the committing of justifiablehomicide und er circumstances of self-protectio n. Tripp set trial for Monday,March 26, at four o 'clock.Again, the court reco rd r ead for March26,1883:

Cas e c on t inued t o a l low t im e fo rfur ther ev idence u nt i l Sa t. 31st .And pr i sone r a l lowed h i s l i ber tyunder th e r e c ogn i t ion o f th e C our t fo rh i s app ea ranc e .S ix s u p e n o e s (sic) i s s u ed f o r th efo l lowing nam ed wi tnes s e s : Wm.Webster , Ju n. , Wm. Blodget , Ge orgeBlodget , Frank Wellm an, Wm . St icean d j . C. Jordon .M arch 31st One O 'clock.Cour t i n s e s s i on :Ev idenc e o f a ll abov e nam edwi tne s s e s t aken under o a th and th e i rs ignature s t aken of eac h asd e p o s i t i o n s .De fendan t 's C ounc i l ma ke s m o t i on

that the deft, (sic) be d is cha rged onthe g rou nd o f ju s t i fi a b le hom i c id e a sn o o n e h a s a p p e a r e d to p r o s e c u t e .M o t ion g rant ed and th e p r i s one r i sd i s charged as i t app ears tha t noo f fen s e u nder th e law ha s b e e nc o m m i t t e d . (s)S .V. T ripp , J.P.

I N JULY, 1883, specialcommissioner Helen HuntJackson had w ritten in one of herreports to the U.S. governm ent aboutconditions and needs of the MissionIndians a more truthful account of theshooting. It appeared later in theSeptember 27,1883 issue of the New YorkIndependent, headlined "JustifiableHomicide in Southern California."Mrs. Jackson's account was based oninterviews in the San Jacinto area wh ereshe had be en only a few weeks after theshooting. Her version:"An incident which had occurred on theboun darie s of the Cahuilla Reservation afew weeks before our arrival there is ofimportance as an illustration of the need ofsome legal protection for the Indians ofSouthern California.". .. A Cahuilla Indian n am ed Juan Diegohad built for himself a ho use a nd cultivateda small patch of groun d on a highmountain ledge a few miles north of thevillage. Here he lived alone with his wifeand baby. He had been for some years what

the Indians call a "locoed Indian," being attimes crazy; never dangerous."... Juan Diego had been off to findwork at sheep-shearing. He came hom e atnight riding a strange ho rse. His wifeexclaimed, 'Why, whose horse is that?'Juanlooked at the horse and replied confusedly,'Where is my horse then?' The woma n,much frightened, said, 'You must take thathorse right back; they will say you stole it.'Juan replied that he would as soon as hehad rested; then thre w himself down andfell asleep."Continuing, Mrs. Jackson w rote that thebarking of dogs awakened the coup le. Juanran out of the house, followed by Ramona,his wife. Sam Temple w as in the yard o nhorseback. Upon seeing Juan Diego,according to Mrs. Jackson's account, he a -


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"p ou red out a volley of oaths, leveled hisgun and shot him dead. After Juan hadfallen on the groun d Temp le rode closerand fired thr ee m ore shots in the body, onein the forehead, on e in the cheek and o nein the wrist, the wom an looking on. Hethen took his horse, which was standingtied in front of the hou se, and ro de away."Mrs. Jackson wrote that later she talkedwith one of the jurors, "a fine, open-heart ed, m anly young fellow." H e said:"I don't care whether th e Indian had aknife or not. That didn't cut any figure at allthe way I loo ked at it. Any man th at'd take ahors e of mine and ride him up thatmou ntain trail, I 'd shoot him w henever Ifound him . Stockmen have got to protectthemselves in this country."The yo ung juro r, however, was critical ofthe shots fired after the Indian was dead ."Well, I'll agr ee that Tem ple was to blam efor firin' into him after he was dead. That

was mean, I 'dallow."ONE PERSON WH O was familiarwith the incident and m adedetailed notes of the Ramonacountry and other regions of SouthernCalifornia was the writer andphoto grapher, G eorge Wharton James. Inhis book, Through Ramona's Country,publish ed in 1908, he relates an occasionwhen he m anaged to get Ramona's voiceon a grap hop hon e wh ile at the widow 'scabin. The device frightened the Indian,but James was able to catch most ofher comments.As James took photo graphs , Ramonaspoke into the graphopho ne. The t ime wasseveral years after the killing, but Ramonawas apparently still grieving.Her story:"There are m any times wh en I lie downout of doors, tired and weary, but I cannots leep. How can I sleep? I am alo ne, and as Iroll and toss, all at onc e I think I can se ethat wicked man riding up to the top of thehill and looking down upon our littlehom e, and I he ar him cry, 'Juan Diego. JuanDiego!' Then I see my poo r husb and, tiredand sleepy almost to death, stagger to thedoorway, and that wicked m an, shoutingfoul oaths, put his gun to his shou lder andfire, bang! bang' two shots right intothe heart of my poor husband. And I seehim fall across the doorway, and althoughthe blood was oozing from his dead body,and I knew I had now no husban d, thatcruel, bad man pulls out his little gun andfires ag ain, ping! ping! ping! ping! fourmo re shots into his dead body."While there are various versions of theinciden t, it is generally b elieved thatTemple shot Juan Diego in the do orwaywithout much w arning. When interviewedabou t thirty years ago, Isad ore Costo, anative Cahuilla, recalled the day Ramona.came to his house with the baby. She saidher husband had been shot withoutwarning. Ramona gave some details.

BECAUSE INDIANS AT that tim eliterally had no rights, their s ideof the killing was nev er officiallyrecorded . There was no investigation andhad it not been for M rs. Jackson's con cernfor California Indians and her novel,Ramona, the event would have rem ainedvirtually unnoticed in court archives.Juan Diego's "spells" were well known.Before he r de ath, Victoria Brook e ofHemet and the oldest surviving child ofCharles and Genoveva Thomas, said heworked for her father as a sheep-sheareron the Thom as ranch in the San JacintoMountains. She recalled he was a goodworker but when the moon was full he was"taken with a fit." Juan D iego was tied to atree for the night or until the seizure woreoff. Ramona also helped on th e large cattleranch w her e Mrs. Jackson visited at onetime, according to Mrs. Broo ke.Presumab ly he was in a confused state

that morning in San Jacinto when h e tookTemple's horse instead of his own. Mrs.Jackson noted he had ridden from Coltonthe previous day whe re he had gone toseek work as a sheep-shearer.The author of Ramona undoubtedlyobtai ned first details of the sho oting fromMiss Mary Sheriff, a teacher at the Indianschool in Sob oba, a short d istance fromSan Jacinto. However, another accountcredits Mrs. J. C.Jordon of San Jacinto asthe pers on w ho gave Mrs. Jackson th einformation. The crusad er w as a guest ofthe Jor don s shortly after the incid ent. Mrs.Jord on was written into the novel as"AuntRi."According to Mrs. Jord on, their guestcomplained that she needed something todram atize the plight of California Ind ians."If I only could p resen t this (the c onditio nof the Indians) in some way that the publicwou ld hear! If I only could write a story asMrs. Stowe wro te of Negro slavery (UncleTom's Cabin)}"Tine killing of Juan Die go d id it. Mrs.Jackson had the spark that touc hed off asocial explosion. She was to return to herColorado Springs home to do m ost of thewriting for a novel that was the finalchapter of her cam paign. She died in 1885at the age of 53 after a disastro us fall dow nstairs in her ho m e. By then the novel wasin print.Some of the trouble stemm ed fromattitudes inco rpora ted into state law afterthe discovery of gold in 1848. For instan ce,the California legislature from 1850 to 1855passed three laws that relegated nativeIndians to an American version of theSpanish-Mexican peon system.One law denied them the right to testifyin court. Another decreed that any Indian,upon word of a white man, could bebroug ht into court and declared a vagrant.He could then be put up for auction andsold as a laborer to the highest bidder for aperiod of four months w ithoutcompen sation other than his keep.

A third California law d ecre ed that anyIndian adult or child could be boun d overto a white citizen for a term of years, bein gpaid for his labors only in subsistence.Furthermore, land ownership requiredlegal filing, and since most Indians wereunedu cated they were unaw are that theirland could be taken from them.While Mission Indians sank lower on thesocial scale, the m oun tain Cahuillacontinued to live in industrious, peacefulcommunities. In an 1883 report Mrs.Jackson contrasted the two differentpositions of Indians in Southern California.In describing life in Ramona's area,she wrote:". . . (They) are cultivating grou nd,keeping stock, carrying on their ownsimple manufactures of pottery, mats,baskets, etc., and making their living avery poo r living, it is true, but they areindep enden t an d self-respecting in it and

ask nothing of the United StatesGovernm ent now, except that it willprotect them in the ownersh ip oftheir lands."IT WAS AGAINST this ba ck gro un dof abuse that M rs. Jackson beganto gather material for the novelthat focused attention on the plight ofCalifornia Ind ians. She fictionalized muchof the story to dram atize the situ ation. JuanDiego's name was changed to "A lessandro"and he was elevated from his real position.Her warm and friendly contacts withMexican families, along with their ranchin gway of life and c ustom s, bec am e part of thescenario. Ramona wasn't confined to he rremo te m ountains sce ne. And a friendlypad re of the Santa Barbara area was fittedinto the book.Today, the nam e of Ramona is all overCalifornia. Scho ols, streets, town s a ndbusinesses bea r her mark, as they do thatof Alessandro. Her novel has survivedmo re than 150 printings, made into at leastthree m ovies, staged in theatres andperformed for thousands each spring bythe peop le of Hemet and San Jacinto.Begun in 1923, the Ramona P ageant is acomm unity enterprise that attracts crowdsto an outdoor amphitheatre in"Ramonaland."The pageant brings to its audiences thecolor of Mrs. Jackson's ti mes . Th ere is aninterweaving of three cultures, those of theIndians, Mexicans an d Anglos. Along withthe tragedy there is the warmth andhospitality that marke d a California erawhen ranches were measured in thethousand s of acres.The fall downstairs brought oncomplications and on August 12,1885,Helen Hu nt Jackson died. However,Ramona (Lubo) lived to benefit,dying in th e San Jacinto Valley on July 21,1922, less than a year before the start of th efestival that has honored her and herpeop le since that time. j \


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DESERT 21


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SAND FOOD:The Strange Vegetable

of thePapagod.Article and Photographs by Wayne P. Arnutrong

NE OF THE LANDMARKS ALONG Int erstate 8 b etw een ElCentro, California and Yuma, Arizona is the Algodo nesDunes, an enorm ous chain of sand dunes that once was aformidable barrier to highway travel. It seems totally barren, butif you park along th e access road and walk across the dun esduring late spring you may notice strange, mushroom-like flowerhead s on the surface of the sand. At first glance they look likemushrooms or toadstools, but close inspection will reveal tinylavender flowers embedded in the woolly mats. Sincemu shroom s do n't have flowers growing out of them, you maythink the sun is getting to you. Actually you have discovered "sandfood," one of the strangest and most interesting plants inNorth Am erica.The gray, fuzzy flower clusters of sand food may be up to fiveinches across, and look like big flat button s or po wd er puffs onthe sand. Each little flower p rod uce s twelve to twenty tiny seedsor nutlets arran ged in a circle like wedges of cheese. The seedsare less than a millimeter in diameter and each flower headproduces thousands of seeds. The woolly mats are practically thesame col or as the sand and are difficult to spot unles you k nowwhat to look for. This is the only p art of the plant that is visibleabove g rou nd. Below the flower head is a fleshy, scaly, brittlestem that may extend several feet below the surface where it isattached to th e lateral root of a nearby sh rub. O ut of curiosity Idecid ed to carefully trace on e stem to its junction with the hostshrub. After several ho urs of tedious digg ing in th e soft sand , Ifound the stem to b e nearly five feet long!

the Pacific coast by way of the arid so uthw est. When Colonel Grayprogressed westward as far as Sonoyta, Mexico he obtained theservices of a Papago chief to guide his party across the arid desert.When they reached the Algodones Dunes the chief dism ountedfrom his horse and began digging with his hands. To ColonelGray's astonish men t the chief pulled a num ber of fleshy stalksfrom the dry sand. In a letter to Dr. Joh n Torrey, a noted botanistof that time, Colonel Gray describ ed his first gas trono micencounter with sand food:"We encamped for the night in the sandhills, and the chief,instead of supping with us, as usual, made a fire, and roasted hisroots or plants on the hot coals (which took about twentyminutes), and comm enced eating them. None of the partysee me d inclined to taste, but, out of courtesy, I mov ed over tothe ch iefs fire, and he han ded me one . At first I ate but little, andslowly, but in a few minutes, so luscious was it that I forgot myown mess, and ate heartily of it; next m orni ng each of the p artyfollowed suit and afterwards there was scarcely enough gatheredto satisfy us. The taste, thou gh peculiar, was not un like th e sw eetpotato, but more delicate."

s AND FO OD WAS ORIGINALLY disc ov ere d in 1854 byColonel Andrew B. Gray while com missioned by thefederal government to survey a possible railroad route to 2] HE GENERIC AND COMMON na m es of sand food refer tothe fleshy, ed ible stem. Ammobroma is derived from twoGreek words meaning sand (ammos) and food (broma).The juicy stems w ere a highly prized food for several trib es of

southwestern Indians, including the Sand Papagos and Cocopas.The stem was eaten raw, boiled, or ro asted o ver the coals of acampfire. According to Colonel Gray, it was also dried in the su nand ground on a metate with mesq uite beans, forming a flourcalled pzrao/e. The Sand Papagos have frequ ented the extensivechain of drifting sand du nes for centuries to harvest large2 2 SEPTEMBER, 1980


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quantit ies of sand food w hich they called biatatk, meaning sand(or s and h ill) root. It was called oyutch by the Cocopa Indians ofBaja California a rd Sono ra, Mexico.According to Dr. Edmund C.Jaeger, a foremost authority ondesert plants, sand food stems when roasted resem blewell-browned yams in flavor. Juicy, uncooked stems can alsoquench the thirst of parched desert travelers. Several naturalistshave raved about the flavor and nutritional value of sand food,both raw and cooked. It has been described as mo re tender andjuicy than a radish, with a flavor resem bling the head of a cabbageor a sweet potato.The latter comparison seems to be more popular among sandfood co nnoisse urs. Perhaps it could be grow n as a vegetable inarid sand d une regions! To me the juicy, crisp, uncooked stems inspring are delicious. I have also found the tasty stems deep in thesand d urin g winter; how ever, I must confess that I feel rath er

Mushroom-like sand food buttons (oppositepage) are attach ed to a buried, edible root or stem(above) sometimes five feet long.guilty eating them since the plant is listed as "very rare anden dan ge red " by the California Native Plant Society. Near the en dof the flower season (June in Imperial County), the stem becomeschewy and fibrous, similar in texture to mature, unc ookedasparagus stems.

7 HERE ARE SEVERAL DIFFERENT spe cie s of co lorfu l an dinteresting root parasites in the sou thwest, but probab lyno ne a re as bizarre as sand food. It is completely-dep end ent upo n its host shru b for water and nutrients. Severalhost plants have been reported but the most common inCalifornia are two s pecies of Coldenia, low, roun ded or m at-likeshrubs with small, oval leaves and prominent venation. It alsocomm only parasitizes the roots of the endemic d une buckwheat(Eriogonum deserticola), a large, wood y buckw heat withpicturesque, twisted trunks and long, deep roots that are oftenexposed by shifting sand.In the early 1930s Franklin A. Thackery m ade a re ma rkab lediscovery of sand food growing near an irrigation canal northeastof Calipatria, California. Wh en the ro ots we re excavated h e found106 fleshy sand food stems arising from a single attachmen t o n

the lateral root ot a small arrowweed (Pluchea sericea). The hostplant, including its root system, weighed 1-1/4 pounds while thesand food parasite weighed 46 pound s! Trying to excavate aroun dsand food stems to locate the ho st con nectio n is very difficultbecau se they are so br ittle and weak. In fact, Mr. Thackery fou nd itnecessary to suspend each of the 106 stems with separate strings.His remarkable photograph in Desert Magazine (April 1953)looks like a sand food puppet show.When moisture is available the sand food stem is able to storeconsiderable quantities of water and then dry up after the springflowering season, wh en the available m oisture is gone.

Microscopic photographs show the stem to be composedprimarily of water stora ge tissue similar to that of cactus an dother succulents. Dried stems may shrivel to less thanone-quarter of their original diameter and eventually disintegratein the sand. According to numerous field observations by Mr.Thackery, sand food appeared not to "overtax" its host. However,it does seem extraordinary for an obligate parasite (entirelydep ende nt u pon its host), such as sand food, to outweigh its hostby mo re than 36 times.

FOOD BELONGS TO a very small and little kn ownfamily of root para sites, all end em ic to weste rn NorthAmerica, Mexico, and C olombia. The only other me mb erof the family native to the southw est is sand plan t (Pholismaarenarium), another native of sandy washes and dunes that looksm ore like a stalked fungus than a flowering plant. The fleshy, scalystem is similar to sand food except the flowers are produced in acompact ro und ed or oval cluster. Each tiny purp le flower has anattractive white border. Although it is not usually mentioned asIndian food, the fleshy stem is somewhat palatable and wasundo ubtedly eaten by some tribes througho ut its range.The primary purp ose of the above-ground parts ofsubterrane an root parasites is to produ ce flowers and ultimatelyseeds. Little is known about the pollination of sand food, althoughthe flowers a re prob ably visited by flies, butterflies, bee tles, orsmall bees. I have also seen mature flower heads of sand foodliterally infested with small ants and mealybug s. Perhaps the antswer e after the small seeds, or, more likely, we re tendin g themealybugs in orde r to obtain their sweet secretion kno wnas "honeydew."

NE THING THAT HAS ALWAYS intrigued me about sandfood is how d oes the ro ot of the young seedling find thehost root d eep w ithin the sand? The actual junction may be24-inches deep , or considerably deeper. The seed contains verylittle stored food and, since the plant is a parasite without green,photosynthetic leaves, this is a tremend ous distance to growwithout any apparent nourishm ent. The tiny seeds are p rodu cedin large numbers and may move downward through sand or maybe bu ried by gradually shifting sand dun es which aresubsequen tly colonized by n ew host vegetation. Even in sanddune areas that appear relatively stable, local drifts around hostshru bs can cov er objects very quickly. In this case the seeds mustremain viable fof ex tende d perio ds of time. Or they may beco meattached to the host root when both are seedlings, or when theroots of the host are expo sed by blowing sand. Exposed lateralroots of dune buckwheat and other host shrubs are commonamong populations of sand food flower heads. I have not verifiedthis, but certain ants, such as harvester ants, could possibly carrythe small seeds into their storage burrow s de ep in the sand.Rodents could also carry the juicy stems and seed-bearing flowerheads into their numerous burrows beneath the host shrubs.

I have observed n ew flowering stems and the dried remains ofthe previous year's stems arising from near the sam e junctionwith the host root. Therefore, sand food is probably a peren nialand sends up new stems each year. This would undo ubtedlyaccount for the appea rance of flower heads in the same generallocation around the same host shrub each spring. However, thegermination and establishment of sand food seedlings is still amystery waiting to be solved by a patient, persistent student. K)


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R I C H M O N DUIOj(jiJl\l! Alive and well, thaY T ERE AND THERE in sunbaked central ' IH^Brmw Oregon, mountains shaped like 9^B

JL JL flat-topped teepees rise toward theskyline. Among them , a hundred yearsago,flocks of grazing sheep, 7,000 or more in each,

.

Story and Photographs byEmilyJ. Horswill Mb ' %


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one man and his menagerie.

rvives, equipped a nd nearly intact, and is still used for services. Building above w as once Richmon d's "shopping center."


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triggered gunbattles with cattlemen.Wagoners cracked long whips oversix-horse teams pulling heavy loads tosupply stations called by such names asAntelope and Fossil.Now, although an occasional roco cocolumn or an elaborate do or hints of thepast, the artifacts of the pio nee rs a recrumbling silently into dust with no one toknow or care, except at the ghost town ofRichmond. Ther e a sheep dog still works athis ancestral profession, as self-appointed guardian for a tiny, red,banty hen. His master is protector ofRichmond.At the outsk irts stood a mailbox freshlylettered, "H. E. Bratton." A sign re ading,"Park here . Welcome," stopped us. Brattonarrived shortly. He's tall, and now slightlystooped. "No. There isn't a cover charge."He chuckled, "I want people to enjoy, justno t destroy, Richmond." He added, "Ingeneral they mean well, but some think it'sa fine place to let dogs run, and they harassmy mena gerie. Then, Americans are .souvenir hu nters, and I don't want them tohaul Richmond away in pieces."Would w e like a tour? Yes, so he led th eway to a long, two-story building. H ugeposts held up a veranda. He continued,"On ce ride rs galloped up in a cloud of dustand hitched horses h ere while they belliedup to the bar." Next to the bar was a dancehall. Inside, as outside, the walls werebleached to utilitarian grey, but the dancefloor was solid.Our host told us, "I worked forWey erhauser for 35 years. Flew all over th eworld. G ot tired of change . When I sawRichmond, the only one of our O regonghost towns still in good cond ition, Idecided it would b e my retirement project.Now, he admits, "I've found it more workthan an old fellow, even on afourteen-hour-day schedule can manage.Still, I can't hir e any one to d o the job right,even if I could afford it."

26 SEPTEMBER, 1980

BUT RICHMOND com es to lifeagain on the nights he holdsdance s. "Much like a 100 yearsago," he sm iles, "except peop le ride autos.Come all the way from Portland. Don atewhatever they like to dance to a bandplaying oldies, and they stand one out atthe bar. Some stay for church services."Bratton po inted o ut a tiny steepledchurch set on the bank of a coulee. That hekeeps locked. He'd show it; but, up on thathillside above town, stood one of the oldhom es we ought to look in on.It was fenced and imm ersed in shade byan encircling veranda, but we could seethat ornate glass panes had decorated baywind ows. In the yard, a gnar led fruit treeheld out shriveled apples, and aonce-latticed garden boasted wild roses.They com peted with grey-green sage andcactus and the sun soaked everything withfragrance. Soon, the shadows of the couleeseemed appealing.In the bottom, a spring bubbled. Part ofthe year, it would form a stream, but nowmud squ ished be neath b oards laid as awalkway. When w e appr oac hed , a flock ofgeese hissed from the churchyard. As theyran, their heads bob bed above the highgrass like right out of Mother Goo se Land.A T A PICNIC TABLE near a mob ilel \ hom e, Bratton sipped a beer. On his- Z X J a p , a ban ty hen u t te red a con ten tedurr-urr as he strok ed her. After a bit werealized the banty's rear had been pluckedbare of feathers. The raw p inholes oozedred. Bratton hastened to assure us, "That'snot blood not now it 'smercurochrome. Trius here took on apolice dog to save Penelope," The Scottishsheepd og, the size of a cocker spaniel,yawned, stretched and licked the bantyhen's so re bottom. She flinched, thensquatted closer. Just then, we heard urgentbleating, Bratton rose, set the hen on thedog's back saying, "That's Nanny. She's

H. E. Bratton, custodian of Richmond,and his burrow, Faustus. "He justwandered down out of the hills oneday..."

stuck somew here ," and he galloped offtoward the noise.Nanny lay, totally relaxed, calling forhelp , her head and shoulders und er thefence and inside the churchyard, herhindquarters and bulging udder outside.Bratton extricated her.Nearby, a burro waggled long ears andbrayed for attention. Bratton offered him atidbit and scratched his long ears, saying,"This is Faustus. He wan dered down out ofthe hills one day and hasn't left not yet."Bratton grinned, and, taking a ring of keysfrom his pocket, he no dde d towa rdthe church.The lock grated. Hinges creaked as theancient door swung ope n. Inside, all wassimple, utilitarian. It might have been builtby any small community' 100 years ago.Folding chairs lined two walls, the only20th Century accessory.Bratton led us to the altar, covered with asunstreaked cloth. "We found this in acupboard. It was handmade long beforethe' church was built." He rem oved thealtar cloth carefully, adding, "Someonealso made this altar."He ran a loving finger along a seam, "Iglued it toge ther. This piec e I had to inlay.But this is the reason I moved to Richmondduring the tourist season." He turned tothe organ. "This must have com e a roundThe H orn on a sailing ship, but I had aspecialist out to repair it and we're using itat services. See these buttons on the stops.They're easily removed with a knife forsouvenirs and they're irreplac eable." Andso are the church that shelters them; thefrontier sho pping m art, know n inSouthwest sheep country in 1880 as asupply station; and the onc e comfortablehome , surrounded by its garden chokedwith cactus and sagebrush, and the fenceBrandon repaired to protect it . Brandonknows he can't keep Richmond as it is forlong. But, he'll welcome you there as longas he's able. E l


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ON THE NEVADA DE SE R T

by Don Miller

N E VA D A'S BO O M E R Sclambered over and aroundgreen and silver sage andochre and vermillion, mauveand taupe, and dun, tan, andtawny hills. They bypassed forebodingplayas and saline sinks and deserts withhaunting names like Black Rock andAmargosa. They suffered the grueling,searing summ er heat and the pervasive,biting winter cold. They slopped downill-tasting, unhe althy food and guzzledbad booze.Wherever they were, most did not

intend to stay long in the silver-richSagebrush State. The pros pectors andminers and speculators of various sortswere there to make their bundle and

return like sated packrats to a m orehospitable place where their newfoundtreasures wou ld assure them all of thecreature comforts and so me of the nicetiesof life. Few of them fared be tter thanmaking bare living wages. The com mo nman rem ained just that com mon . Butwhile they were in Nevada, those com mo nmen left some uncommon memorabilia inthe form of rather ingeniou s des ertdomiciles that they built and lived in.Probably no other western state reflectsmo re creativity in housing "construction"than pioneer Nevada.Although some treasure seekers sleptcovered only by a blanket and the vastreaches of the starry sky, othersbuilt some

52,000 beer bottles were used to build this house in Rhyolite, circa 1905.


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kific! of i"iutt\fc>(c iio vc ! tkat tkcy cal ledhom e. A few hom es w ere built of log, orwe re of brick, rock, adob e or frameconstruction.However, som e sagebrush speculatorswere so intent on devoting as much time aspossible to their whirligigs of chance thatthey opted for simply digging holes in thegroun d for use as their homes . Thesequickie dugout domiciles were at leastreasonably warm in winter and coolin summer.M A N Y J AC K A S Sprospecto rs elected to buildtents. These canvas creationswere easy and inexpensive toconstruct and to move;although Mark Twain, Bob Howland and

Horatio ("Ralsli") Phillips had uoublcmoving th eir ten- by twelve-foot cabin in1862. It was situated n ear the Chinesesection of Aurora so they decid ed to mov ethe structure to a "better" part of thegrowing camp. Several of the boys helpedmove the cabin part of the way but wh enarriving at the Exchange Saloon, theydecide d to stop for a few drinks. Soonscores of men came into the saloon andshowed blisters that they had supp osedlyreceived from moving the cabin. BobHowland later remin isced that it was veryexpensive to buy two-bit drinks and that itwould almost have been as cheap to buy anew cabin with a mansard roof and anobservatory. Some say that up to 250 m engot drinks for their real or imagined cabin-moving efforts. Howland claimed that

9 in th


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198009 desert magazine 1980 september

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