Arizona's Cowboy Artist

OCTOBER, 1936

Ortega Lake-Concho project will be finished in the next few weeks and that District Engineer F. N. Grant needs a pull grader to maintain that road. It was regularly moved by Commissioner Barth, seconded by Commissioner Seale, and unanimously carried that a pull grader be purchased for the Ortega Lake-Concho project.

Mr. H. H. Idle, Division Manager of the Arizona Edison Company, Inc., Superior, Arizona, appeared before the Commission presenting a request for the purpose of obtaining permission to lay a new water main along Highway 70 in the town of Superior while the street widening program is under way, so that houses which have been moved back may be served and to furnish adequate fire protection. Mr. Idle informed the Commission that on July 17, 1914, the Board of Supervisors had granted the Superior Water Association an easement and right of way over roads, streets and alleys for water distribution; on October 8, 1918, an easement was granted the Superior Water Association for electric distribution in and around Superior; and on August 5, 1930, new franchises were obtained from the Board of Supervisors to lay lines, etc., for a period of twenty-five years. It was regularly moved by Commissioner Seale, seconded by Commissioner Angle and unanimously carried that such permission be granted by the usual revocable easement, subject to the approval of the District Engineer.

Mr. B. B. Shimmel, representing Mr. M. M. Sundt, of the Sundt Construction Company, Tucson, appeared before the Commission, requesting that the Commission reconsider their offer of $3,086.45 as a compromised settlement of his case in regard to the Stone Avenue Underpass. The Commission went into executive session at 10:55 a. m., meeting again in open session at 11:20 a. m., all members present except Commissioner Addams. It was regularly moved by Commissioner Angle, seconded by Commissioners Seale and Barth, and unanimously carried that since the Arizona Highway Commission has offered $3,086.45 in settlement of claim of the Sundt Construction Company and this day the attorney for the Sundt Construction Company has accepted that offer, that the proper authorities of the Highway Department be authorized to settle the claim on that basis. Mr. H. C. Hatcher advised the Commission and Mr. Shimmel the matter could be settled this week.

State Engineer O'Connell asked permission to attend the meeting of the Executive Committee of the American Road Builders' Association, which is to be held in Washington, D. C., on September 17, also to make a side trip to San Antonio, Texas, to call on the Chief of the Eighth Corps Area regarding the matter of right of way through Fort Huachuca and to place that highway on the 7% System. The request was granted.

The Commission went into executive session at 11:50 a. m., meeting again in open session at 12:10 p. m., all members present except Commissioner Addams. Mr. Y. M. Martin and Mr. T. P. Richards of Aguila appeared before the Commission with regard to having a steel

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

fence and posts placed on their property along the highway for a distance of ten miles east of Aguila on Highway 60. Mr. Geo. B. Shaffer, District Engineer, was given permission to grant this request, as evidence was presented indicating that dry rot destroyed posts made of wood, which were placed two years ago at this location.

The Secretary read a copy of letter which Mr. James Kerby, Secretary of State, had written Mr. Fred James, Morristown, Arizona, dated September 12, 1936, copy of which was sent to the Arizona Highway Department, in reply to a request made by six residents of Morristown to provide speed limit and signs to be placed in the school district of Morristown. It was regularly moved by Commissioner Angle, seconded by Commissioner Barth, and unanimously carried that the State Engineer be authorized to have the Safety Engineer of the State work with the District Engineers to determine where speed should be reduced and to remove unnecessary signs which are now posted, and to re-port to the Commission for their formal action.

There being no further business to come before the Commission, they adjourned at 12:20 p. m., September 14, 1936, to meet again at the call of the Chair.

« Arizona's Cowboy Artist-Writer »

By BERYL BRACKETT (Courtesy Hoofs and Horns) ROSS SANTEE, horse wrangler, artist and writer, rounding out a cycle from art student to wrangler on an Arizona cattle ranch and back to art again-where he made the big American weeklies and monthly magazines, almost incidentally tumbling into the writing end of production, has published five books dealing with Arizona range life. Every one is of unquestioned popularity, read and loved wherever the language of the range is understood, and loved. The stone upon which his popularity rests is undoubtedly the note of absolute sincerity, the sincerity of the man himself sensed through every word, and through every line of beast and of

man in his pen-and-ink illustrations. In an earlier edition of a popular American magazine we found a thrilling account of the artist-writer's student days explaining how he nearly threw overboard his present career in his first reaction to a ready-made life. It is the story of a young art student making for the ranges and sun-drenched hills of Arizona to drown his disappointment in a career of art for art's sake-only to find, unexpected self-expression through ink and pen transcriptions of the things that a cowboy and horse-wrangler sees upon every side during recurring round-ups. And did those Eastern editors eat 'em up, yes, siree, and did an editor look different to young Santee."

But the freedom of life in his chosen career on the range left its mark and time and again Ross Santee has returned to jingle his spurs and wrangle his herd in soul-satisfying earnestness. "Men and Horses," "Cowboy," "Spike, a Cowpuncher's Dog," and more recently "Sleepy Black" and "Bar FX Golf Course" have been published at intervals. In them the author-artist has done much for the preservation of authentic lore of cowboy and cowhorse life. The language of range hoss and rider, with no uncouth exaggeration as if often pictured in works of lesser merit, is authentic in all the works to come from Santee's pen. To use his own words: "For I happen to know how it feels to ride herd in the rain or be thrown from a pitching horse. Writing still comes hard to me an' the real fun in doing a story is in drawing the pictures for it. For I'm still trying to draw the things that interest me, and draw them my own way." And that is the reason why they have proved so thrillingly interesting to his readers East and West, and noticeably to the youngsters who never get a surfeit of Santee's range tales.

Mrs. Santee, in person, is as picturesque an individual as one could hope to discover in this blase period of movie idols. Mrs. Santee, a very piquant specimen of young American womanhood is an enthusiast concerning her husband's artistic and literary laurels. At the present moment Ross Santee is State Director of the Federal Writers' Project. Upon the completion of his duties in that capacity he will proceed with the preparation of his next book-which he describes as a "Picture Book of Cowboy Life." Modest and a bit different in speaking of his own activities, he is every inch (and Santee is more than average in height) the typical cowboy, as taciturn and laconic of speech as any figure from his own pages. His books are his heartiest spokesmen, and most

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

revealing; in their pages you will meet the real Santee he is indeed fulfilling his promise, in the above quoted pages of the magazine of nearly a decade ago, "so now I peg along as best I can, and try to be myself"-and succeeds!

Taming the Colorado

(Continued from Page 5) struction and then roared off down the two tunnels on the Arizona side.

In the inky darkness of the tunnels the river tore again at the rocky sides and found them adamant to its anger, and then emerged peacefully out of the lower portals of the tunnels to continue its way down the Black Canyon. The hackamore had been slipped over the head of the bucking broncho of rivers before he had opened his eyes.

Without delay the flow of water through the two Arizona tunnels was made secure and the river shut off from the upper and lower sides of the dam site. This was done by means of thick coffer dams of rock from the tunnel excavations. Soon the water was pumped out of the area between the coffer dams and the work of digging out for the foundation of the dam was started. Down to the ancient rock-ribbed bed of the Colorado River went the foundation excavations and even further, until at one hundred and forty feet below the low water stage of the river, the actual beginning of the Boulder Dam was reached.

The elevation above the sea of the top of the dam was to be twelve hundred and thirty-two feet, and the solid rock at the foundation bottom was found at elevation five hundred and six feet. This meant that a structure of a height of seven hundred and twenty-six feet must be built of concrete and steel.

From June, 1933, until May, 1935, the canyon walls echoed day and night with the sound of whistles, rumbling machinery, machine gun rattle of riveters and the never-ceasing roar of immense trucks, taking out waste rock and bringing back machinery and tools. Slowly the concrete monster rose to its maximum height. Slowly-as the heat from the fresh concrete must be taken away by means of an immense cooling system and the hidden thermometers buried for the ages to come in the solid concrete electrically sent out their mute reports of temperatures far inside the most solid man-made mass in the world.

Day or night there was unceasing noise but no confusion. It was a strange sight to stand at the top of the dam on September 30, 1935, and look down upon the scene where until a few minutes before had been the activities and sounds of the years of huge construction of the world's largest edifice. Not a sound or not a man in sight down there in the depths of the Black Canyon. Only the graceful upward curving of a smooth man-made rock, plugging the Colorado River for ages to come. The reason for this sudden break in the confusion and din of the years was the presence of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, as he made his inspection of the dam preceded by the Secret Service watch dogs over paths that had been crowded with workers for so long a time. Not a man in sight below there and not until after President Roosevelt had opened his dedication speech with the words "I came, I saw, and I was conquered," and finished the ceremony with the words "a good job well done," did the work begin again. A strange hour it seemed to the Colorado River flowing smoothly through the tunnels, only partly harnessed, but with the final tightening of the concrete straps which made its complete harnessing a fact.

OCTOBER, 1936

In the two years of dam construction, a solid concrete plug had been made in the Black Canyon, seven hundred and twenty-six feet high, six hundred and sixty feet thick at the bottom and forty-five feet thick at the top, where the tourists now roll over the wide highway on their way to Arizona, or to Nevada, with hardly a thought of the six hundred foot depths to the old Colorado River beneath them. A quarter of a mile of concrete now forms this new bridge over the Colorado, and a lake one hundred and fifteen miles long lies quietly shimmering in the sunshine, where not so long before yellow floods boomed in the depths of the Black Canyon below. Blue is the water above the dam and blue and milky white is the water roaring out of the canyon walls, as they take their one hundred and seventy-foot drop to the original channel of the river where they had so long been accustomed to flow.

On September 11, 1936, there was still another important ceremony started in Washington by President Roosevelt as he pressed a telegraph key and a switch was thrown down in the immense power house at the bottom of the dam. A large turbine generator began to whirl and the atoms of copper in the inch and a half cable began to vibrate as the power of the Colorado River was transformed to electrical energy, instead of roaring wildly down the Black Canyon, to tear chunks out of the levees hundreds of miles below the Boulder Dam. The harness is complete and the Colorado River has been tamed to the will of man, with

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

OCTOBER, 1936

Serving the two republics of Mexico and detective story, fictitious or true. the United States. Mr. Ollerton could find no records. A few casual references in old newspapers told of the raid. But in 1868, the Vulture Mine and the new town of Wickenburg, named for Henry, was many miles across the mountains from even the territorial capital. There were no railroads, even very few wagon roads and horse trails. In the meantime, however, the report ers for local newspapers had printed short items about Mr. Ollerton's quan dary, his troubles in protecting Uncle Sam's pocketbook from the Arriolas' claims. And the daily papers were de livered out on North Eleventh street, Phoenix, to the home of the late Martin Monroe Elder.

Just as he was, he looked like Santa Claus to O. M. Ollerton. The old fellow strode over to a street car and hied himself to town, stalked into the big courthouse (disdaining an elevator and walking four flights of stairs) ignored the petty and pretty stenographers who accosted him in the county attorney's reception room, and banged on through Mr. Ollerton's door.

"Gosh, in those times it was 10 years before an event could get into newspa pers, anyhow!" Mr. Ollerton lamented. "Furthermore, a simple Indian raid with only two white people killed was not es pecially a newsworthy event, therefore details of it would hardly have been printed." "As to finding eye witness now, that seems like the needle in the haystack, too. Boys did not come to wild Arizona in those days, and to be living now, a man must have been a mere boy then.

Mr. Elder didn't see very well, during his last years. He had seen many things in his 84 years, and the faces of friends, the colors of flowers and of western sunsets were still plain to him. But reading newspaper type hurt a little, and he didn't do much of it. Nevertheless, by chance he picked up the page of the paper that told of Mr. Ollerton's wanting first-hand evidence of what really happened on the trail from the Vulture Mine to Wickenburg, on September 7, 1869, the day the Apaches attacked Espiritu Arriola.

There might have been some urgent matter on the deputy's desk at the mo ment but when you are 84 and when you have personally killed many In dians and fought to protect gold in the wild western days, nothing on an office desk looks urgent. Mr. Elder demanded to be heard and he was. An hour later, Mr. Ollerton went to lunch, beaming like a locomotive headlight because of a fresh sworn statement in his safe.

"Still further, even if the territory had attracted a few boys, Wickenburg was so wild and isolated that they would hardly have gone there, or would hardly have lived through all the tragedies there to be alive and in sound mind today." "This is the worst trouble I've ever had with Indians. I may not get scalped literally by the Apaches, but they are turning my hair gray!"

"Hell and tarnation" Mr. Elder shouted. "I can tell him that. By george, I was there!" He read on down the column, and pretty soon he was in a stew of elderly anger. He got up from his easy chair, placed his ever-present Bible on the win dow sill, and reached for his old hat.

"Yes sir, bud, I can tell you just ex actly what happened that day," the old warrior began. "Happens I was with a party of soldiers, and we was coming in toward the main trail, with nobody expecting us." "By george if we didn't run smack onto a party of Apaches herding a bunch of harnessed mules!

However, Mr. Ollerton did not regard it as a laughing matter, because $88,000 with interest for 65 years is no trivial sum. It must come out of taxpayers' pockets, he knew, and he felt that the claim could be offset if only the full facts were known. How to learn the facts was his problem-as it is in any "Where you goin', Mr. Elder?" a friend in the house wanted to know. "I'm goin' to town! Got to see this here Ollerton feller. Why he ain't got no case against him - them Apaches never got away with a doggone thing! I tell you I was right there and seen it!" If Martin Monroe Elder's snow beard and hair had been a little longer he would have looked like Santa Claus."

"We knowed right off what had happened-no Indian ever had mules of his own. So we took after them." "Well, the Reds done what the Mexi cans had done a few minutes before they run. We got a few, but we stopped to take care of the stock. Live mules are worth more'n dead Apaches."

"We caught every mule, and took 'em back to the wagon. When we checked up, not a thing was lost, except maybe a hame string or a broke trace chain or some little item. No wagons burned. No ore lost. Nothing but two Mexicans and some Reds killed." "I can't figger how the Arriolas claim they got any money coming. Espiritu went on with his wagons and his ore.

"He lost his outfit, right enough, and maybe his heirs today don't know about that. But he lost 'em on a bad debt. Lost 'em to old man Hayden, the father of Carl Hayden, U. S. Senator today." "I ain't saying the Apaches wouldn't a had 'em, if we hadn't come along. But by th' etarnal, we did'"

Chance brought Mr. Elder into Ari zona as a teen-age boy with a step father from Texas, soon after the Civil War, he told. Chance brought him to the new Vulture bonanza, and chance enabled his party to recapture the Ar riola mules that day. And finally, chance led him to read the newspaper account of Mr. Ollerton's quandary.

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

Had engaged in agricultural pursuits, would there have been any need for the Indian wars that have stained the pages of American history? Was there something in the contact with the soil-a mystic partnership with the elements of Nature that gave courage to stand firm against their enemies with a tolerance and gentleness of a high, though primitive code of ethics, that might be copied by those whose advantages and education has been broader?

Before the Spaniards introduced wheat and livestock, the principal products were corn, beans and squash. These are typical American products. Between the Spanish and American eras wheat and barley had been introduced and were staple. The Pimas and Papagos also had become owners of herds of cattle. It was therefore possible to furnish provisions to the many who came through Arizona before there were white farmers to supply the miners, the soldiers and the immigrants.

Members of the Mormon battallion, who passed through southern Arizona in the winter of 1846-47, were so impressed by the farms of the Indians at the Pima villages that some of them returned in later years to help in establishing colonies of the Latter Day Saints.

The Walker party who were among the pioneer miners of the early '60's located near what is now Prescott and obtained supplies from the Pima villages. So also did Jack Swilling and his company when they were digging the first irrigation canal in the Salt River valley. The old Butterfield stage line, too, was aided materially. The early history of Arizona abounds in references to the Pima villages, and praise is unstinted for these primitive people who gave to the white brethren food, shelter and kindly assistance.

Editor's Note: Odd S. Halseth, archeologist of the Phoenix Archeological Commission and curator of the Pueblo Grande Museum, has reviewed this and the preceding article. Mr. Halseth, with reference to early-day agriculture in Arizona, has this to say: "What wheat was to Egypt, rice to China, corn was and is to America. We trace American pre-history very accurately from the introduction of corn to the present day. Tree ring studies have confirmed our present chronology and given more accurate historical data. We do not emphasize enough the debt we owe to the American aborigine agriculturally. Three-fifths of our crops today are of Indian origin. Aside from corn, tobacco, white and sweet potatoes, several squashes, a number of variety of beans, cotton, etc., a large number of medicines come to us from the Indian."

Arizona's Crown Jewels

(Continued from Page 10) let, the rarest ring, was hidden thereunder. First I would indicate a ring or bracelet of my own with gestures meaning that I would like more of the same; then, exasperated by her staid stolidity or pretended ignorance, I would tug at the edges of her blanket, even to the point once in a while of alarming her virtue. Eventually I would succeed in uncovering silver and turquoise. And this or that piece of it came home with me.

It was the same with the men. I would fondle the hand of a motionless horseman, studying ring or bracelet. Then the bargaining. Then the prize trophy. Now that I have assembled thousands of such trophies, I doubt if there exists a design, either old or new, which could arouse in me that fever of the collector, that hunger for the variants which will make a collection; but I still admire.

It is a fact that a collector within the scope of his collection acquires a knowledge without knowledge. To this day I know nothing of the history of silverwork among Indians, nothing of the origin or significance of the designs they use. For me that is not the point. I can only wheeze with other amateurs that I know what I like. But at the same time I can instinctively and instantly reject the false design, the design which means nothing to its maker except foreign instruction or intended sale. The quality which makes any object beautiful is the love which goes into its making. Left alone, the Indian could not conceivably create anything without love, without delight. The blanket, the basket, the pot or the necklace may eventually be an object for commerce. In fact our Indians are distinctive among men for lack of the possessive instinct. To make a thing beautiful is important, but to keep it is not important. They make you feel at times, as the Chinese do, that remembering is better than keeping, or let's say that remembering is the real keeping. But aesthetic integrity in the making of things is as natural to Indians as a race as it is among other races to specialists in beauty.

There was a Navajo living sixteen miles from Fort Defiance, Arizona, whose Indian name was Hosteen Ah-tsi'di and who as a young man was called Iron-maker because he made bits for bridles and then with variations copied fancy bridles from Spanish horses, singing songs at his work about their dead riders. Since Mary Roberts and Dane Coolidge have reminded us of it in their book "The Navajo Indians,' that when members of this tribe were herded into Bosque Redondo in 1864 to become farmers there was issued to them coils of brass and copper wire and they made bracelets of the wire and after the Navajos were sent back to their old country their smiths made similar bracelets from silver coins and evolved new shapes and decorations; that they learned about 1900 the better silver content in Mexican coinage than in ours, that they gradually developed a racial craft with which to ornament themselves, both men and women, that they became gifted and important sil-

OCTOBER, 1936 ARIZONA HIGHWAYS 23

Over their ancient loved turquoise and that when turquoise is worn, rattlesnake will not bite or lightning strike.

Let me myself remember in the wide Navajo country a family of Indians guiding their sheep to new grazingplaces, a canopy of branches set up against sun and rain, an outdoor loom for the women to weave on and a little satchel with tools in it and silver and turquoise so that one of the men out there under the sky could hammer and weld and inlay small bits of beauty to his heart's content.

What matter if the pendant which he makes means different things to different men. He himself could tell me that the horse-shoe shape with its inner prong is the Navajo war-god's dagger. A Pueblo Indian, having dug turquoise from the old mine at Los Cerrillos over which the Pueblos had assumed semimystic ownership from time long since until Tiffany of New York bought and closed and guarded it to make such beauty more expensive, would bring back his pendant from the Navajo country and translate its meaning into phallic symbolism or the peace-signal of a rainbow. Let archaeologists and scholars worry concerning such matters. Let poets and people take beautiful craftsmanship into their hands and find their own meanings.

But let poets and people, and most people are poets without knowing it, be cautious against factories. For factories can take art away from Indians and poetry out of people. And the fact is that many Americans, with their creative minds destroyed by the effect of factory products, can come even into this mountain country whose clear air should clean their taste, and prefer Indian jewelry made wholesale in factories at Denver or Albuquerque or in the petty factories set up by white traders where Indians sit in small rows and fabricate jewelry under white direction, with arrows and swastikas and thunder-birds provided in stamps by the factory-keeper. An unimaginative and tinny jewelry is being imposed upon credulous and tasteless buyers in the name of Indians who, left alone, can create for themselves and through themselves for us, decorative belongings as distinguished and personal and aesthetically important as the decorative belongings which for centuries have graced the Orient and reflected there in man's response and in all the uses of life the importance of each separate cherryblossom.

Arizonans Attend Safety Conference

(Continued from 'Page 14) Courtesy prevalent in the home and drawing room into common situations on the highway. zation to effect co-operation against traffic accidents.

Striping of highways-building of one-way highways a confinement of the speed maniac-compulsory scrapping of "antiques" skidproof and blowoutproof tires and compulsory mental and physical examinations for accident prone drivers, are a few of the safety features which were discussed and encouraged at the conference.

A motion was made and carried that a permanent organization to be known as The Western States Safety Conference, be formed the Governor of each state or province to name the member of his state or province to be on the board of directors of the organization and that member in turn to name four members from different phases of safety to act with him on the board.

Portland, Oregon, was selected as the convention city for 1937.

Specialists on Reinforced Steel Mesh Guard, Fence Stays 1534 Blake Street, Denver Plants at Denver and Pueblo Taylor Thermometers Hamilton Drawing Boards Drafting Room Equipment Photostat Printing Drawing Material Blue Printers Surveying Instruments Measuring Tapes CITY, COUNTY AND STATE MAPS U. S. G. S. TOPOGRAPHY MAPS Home Builders' Bldg. 128 N. First Ave. Phone 4-2407

OCTOBER, 1936 Only the eyelids of the great desperado fluttered. He had fainted.

The Kid was given a shot of whiskey and told he had one more chance. When the guns next roared he was running so fast the branches of the cottonwood trees swayed in the draft. The Kid was on his way to "the line."

Crandall, after a ride that winded Drinkwater's horse, was seated in the Mexican Custom House, keeping up his courage with mescal, and conjecturing how long it would be before Calabazas climate might be considered healthful for him. Crandall looked up and saw the Kid-both made a dive under the table yelling: "Don't shoot! I'm your friend! Don't shoot!"

The astonished Mexican officials grabbed each one by the leg and hauled him out. Both grinned sheepishly. Crandall set up the drinks, leaving the Mexicans much puzzled over the crazy gringos.

Road Reminiscences (Continued from Page 11) off until the next time we felt reckless and indifferent to life and limb.

"The next time we'd probably get through to stay at the canyon for a few days until we could get our nerve up to come back. Like as not we'd get caught in a good heavy rain about half way home. It wasn't any case of turnin' on the windshield wiper and goin' on, either. Such a thing as a windshield wiper just wasn't. And closed cars were about as much of a myth as a round world in Columbus' time. Get out the curtains with the mica windows, and try to get them hooked on before we are all so wet it won't matter.

"By that time the road was so slick we couldn't go any faster than about six miles an hour or we'd slide off. As it was, our tracks kept slitherin' around until they looked like an angle worm's trail across a mud puddle. Then we'd come to a ditch that had been dry the day before, but it'd look like the Mississippi in flood. No use tryin' to cross that. We'd have to wait until it went down. Then my wife would start tellin' me what a fool I was to come on the trip, just as though it hadn't been her suggestion. Our guests would all look kinda embarrassed.

"After it stopped rainin' we'd find the car wouldn't start so all the men would get out and push while the women walked along holdin' up their long skirts out of the mud. After we'd get the car started again it'd be so dark we'd mistake a cow trail for the road and get good and stuck in a bog hole. I

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

NATIONAL SAFETY COUNCIL lost lots of good friends by takin' them to the canyon when roads were just a place where the weeds had been partially killed out.

"But people never appreciate what they have. I never appreciated those roads, and I kept hollerin' for new ones. Just didn't have enough sense to see what good roads would do. Why, before they had any pavin' in this county or

25

knew what pavin' was, I got along fine. You see a tire wouldn't last very long over those roads dependin' on how many rock cuts it got while crossin' the washes. Why, I used to sell tires by the carload, and do you think I can sell that many now that they have all this pavin' in? Then, too, the cars used to fall apart regular. No car could hold together through shimmies and shakes like those roads had. But now there's just kind of a zip as the car goes by, and the only ones I get to haul in are the cars that get to goin' too fast to stay on the ground, and try flyin' without wings. Usually they're so far from bein' a car when we haul 'em in that we just keep right on goin' on out to the dump.

"But say, it's sure nice to travel around through this county now. You can enjoy all the pine trees and mountains without bein' afraid the road's goin' to give out. But I guess you ought to know. I see you been to the Grand Canyon yourself.

"No, the garage business isn't what it used to be, not by a long shot, and it's a good wind that blows nobody ill.

"Check your oil?"

Long Distance telephone rates are reduced after 7 every night and all hours Sunday Enjoy a telephone visit with the folks back home or friends in other towns.