EDITOR'S LETTER

WESTERN ARIZONA IS A LITTLE like Rodney Dangerfield. It gets no respect. Other than Lake Mead and Lake Havasu, there aren’t a lot of postcard opportunities in that part of the state — if you want to impress somebody in East Lansing or South Bend, you send them something from Sedona. That’s the theory, anyway. Even the Colorado River, which is exalted for its run through the Canyon, gets little regard for its 250-mile stretch along the Arizona-California border. And then there’s Yuma, apathetically known to Phoenicians as the “rest-stop on the way to San Diego.”

Needless to say, there’s much more to Yuma than that, including the Cibola National Wildlife Refuge, which is hidden along the river just north of the city. As the name implies, this place is a sanctuary for sandhill cranes, deer and the occasional wild burro. There are coyotes and other mammals, too, but mostly there are birds, especially this time of year, when the snow geese and Canada geese settle in for the winter. They’re attracted by the water and the nearby cornfields. The fact that it’s beautiful means nothing to them. It means something to us, though, which is why we put the refuge on this month’s cover and featured it in this month’s portfolio.

As you’ll see in “Western Exposure” by photographer George Stocking, Cibola is worth visiting and worth writing home about. Really, if you think the state’s natural beauty is limited to its northern, southern and eastern regions, George’s gorgeous photos will change your mind. Take a look. The place is beautiful, and George is an excellent photographer. So is Louise Serpa. 
 

Unless you’re a rodeo enthusiast, you’re probably not familiar with Louise. You should get to know her, though. In the same way that Annie Leibovitz is the high priestess of celebrity photography, Louise Serpa is the grande dame of rodeo photography. Her ascent, however, was hardly expected.

As a young socialite growing up in New York, the “wild West” was a world away. That is, until age 9, when her mother headed to Nevada for a quick divorce. Louise was in tow, and along the way she caught a glimpse of her future. It took her awhile to get there, including a detour through Vassar, but when she had the chance, she embraced John Soule’s (not Horace Greeley’s) “go-west-young-man” mantra — so what if it wasn’t politically correct, she knew where she wanted to be.

In “Rodeo’s Grande Dame” by Tim Vanderpool, you’ll learn more about this remarkable woman’s journey, and her ultimate rise to the top of a profession dominated by men. You’ll also see a sample of her work — exquisite black-and-whites that normally grace the walls of museums — and when you do, you’ll be impressed. If you think it’s tough taking a picture of a 5-year-old on a pony, imagine trying to capture a cowboy on a bucking bronco with a three-second window of opportunity. It’s not easy, which is why Tucson’s Louise Serpa is the reigning champion of rodeo photography. 

Like the grande dame, Gerard Vultee was a champion of sorts. And likewise, he made a name for himself in Arizona. As an aeronautical engineer, Vultee was renowned for designing some of the fastest planes in the world, as well as the first fully retractable landing gear. In 1938, however, his story took a dramatic turn in the rugged backcountry near Sedona.
 

He was flying one of his own planes from Washington, D.C., to California when he and his wife encountered a snowstorm about 60 miles southwest of Winslow. As Larry Lindahl writes in “In Plane View,” “Vultee desperately tried to escape the blinding storm . . . But flying without instrument training, he soon grew fatally disoriented. Three miles north of Wilson Mountain, 37-year-old Gerard Vultee flew his plane into the ground, igniting a huge explosion.”

Both passengers died, but in the search for the wreckage, rescuers “discovered” an incredible 40-foot sandstone arch. No doubt Native Americans were familiar with the spectacular landmark, but prior to the crash, European settlers had never seen it. Today, Vultee Arch — named, of course, for the man who helped unearth it — stands as one of the area’s most scenic wonders. And like the Cibola National Wildlife Refuge in Western Arizona, it’s yet another way to impress the folks back in East Lansing. Postcards are available in Sedona.