ARIZONA SKETCH BOOK: PAUL COZE.

arizona sketch book Paul Coze Writer-Ethnologist-Artist

MORE and more, as the years roll on, and as the fame of Arizona grows throughout the world, is our state becoming a mecca, winter and summer, for painters, writers, scientists, and world travelers. And this winter, within its borders, Arizona is playing host to a personable young man who has made his mark in each of these fields. For Paul Coze, Paris, France, wintering at Camelback Inn, in the Valley of the Sun, is a painter, writer, ethnologist and world traveler. In one other field has he made his mark he is one of the founders of the Boy Scout movement in France, a movement which has grown from an humble beginning of one patrol of eight members to the present membership of some 70,000. And he is more proud of this part of his life than of any other. The story of his life reads like an Arabian Nights' tale, and begins back in 1903 in Beirut, Syria, where he was born of Russian and French parentage. His mother, a princess of royal rank, the Princess Dabija, and his father Eduard Coze, had been married twenty years before Paul came along, and thefamilies had given up the idea of an heir ever gracing the union. But one day, as Paul's father was riding away on horseback from his man-ufacturing plant, a negro who had been loafing about the doorway for several days, jumped up and cried: "Sahib, sahib, stay! Your day has come! This is your hour! Let me tell your fortune." And being of a kindly temper, the elder Coze reined in his horse, sat quietly while the negro busied himself with the sand in front of him.

Suddenly the negro looked up, both startled and pleased. Shaking his finger at Monsieur Coze, he shouted, "You will have two sons. One will be famous, and one will be very intelligent." And that was all. The idea of two sons was, of course, fantastic. Had not twenty years of marriage already passed? But the negro soothsayer had somehow prophesied the truth, for the very next year Paul was born, and within another year, his younger brother, Marcel, was born. And thus began the friendly rivalry which has existed betwen the brothers since they have been old enough to understand the story which they heard at their father's knee. "Now, everytime my name appears in print, my brother shouts at me, 'See, you are the famous one, and I am the intelligent one.' I do not know but he is(Turn to Page 26)

A New Highway Commission Takes Charge

(Continued from Page 5) Mr. Marley, from district number one, has been widely identified with cattle and agricultural interests in the state. His family were among the early pioneer ranchers of Arizona, and Comissioner Marley himself has been most success-ful in cattle and agricultural pursuits.

Commission Chairman Procter, from district number two, has been managing director of the world-famed Pioneer hotel and El Presidio hotel in Tucson. He is considered one of the most successful hotel men in the state. As president of the Arizona Hotel association, he is recognized as one of the leaders of the industry.

Mr. Bledsoe, from district number three, is an automobile dealer in the Bisbee district. He is a successful business man and is known as a staunch supporter of good roads for Arizona. He understands transportation and travel problems, through years of participation in the automobile business.

Mr. Moore, of district number four, a civil engineer by profession, has served Yavapai county as a member of the Board of Supervisors and as city manager of Jerome. He is a pioneer resident of northern Arizona and has always been active in behalf of good roads. He is vice-chairman of the commission.

Mr. Owens, from district number five, has been in the gasoline business in Holbrook for many years, serving as distributor for one of the large companies. He has been active in the business life of his county and as a private citizen has given of his time and effort to the highway system of this state. This group of men takes over the supervision of the highway department well recommended as substantial citizens and long-time residents of the state. It would be difficult to select a more representative group or a group better qualified to guide the destinies of the Arizona highway department. Judging by the way they have taken over their new duties and judging by the care they are giving to problems of the department, Governor Jones could not have selected an abler or more conscientious commission to formulate Arizona's future road program and lead the Arizona highway department to greater development and a greater importance in the welfare of the citizens of the state. -R. C..

W. R. Hutchins--State Highway Engineer

(Continued from Page 7) the period of Arizona's transformation from a territory to the great state it is today, he possesses that affection for the state and that understanding of its growth and development that a man in his position must have.

He knows the problems of roadbuilding in Arizona, because as district engineer in both the northern and southern districts, he has been actively engaged in the construction, maintenance and the development of a major portion of the Arizona highway system. His long years on the front line of roadbuilding in Ari zona have given him a knowledge and understanding of road problems that is almost mandatory for a state engineer to have.

Mr. Hutchins typifies the highest engineering ideals. He has been a champion for the engineer in this state and he has lent of his personality and force to improve the profession. He has served as president for the Arizona section of the American Society of Civil Engineers and also served a term as president Arizona chapter of the American Association of Engineers. He has been a frequent contributor to engineering journals, and is considered an authority on many technical phases of road construction and road design.

This pioneer Arizona roadbuilder commands the respect of the engineering profession, and begins his service to the state as state highway engineer with the esteem and admiration of the citizens of the state and the affection and loyalty of the rank and file of the highway department.

He has always given the best of his ability to the highway department in whatever position he has occupied. Those who are now working under him will give him their "best." Mr. Hutchins did not seek the job of state engineer. In this case the job sought him.

We queried a long-time department engineer as to what he felt was the outstanding thing about the new state engineer. We value this man's opinion because he has been with the department for years and knows what's what.

He thought for a few minutes and said: "I think that the outstanding thing about the new chief is that to those who work for him and to the citizens who have dealings with him, he'll be as he has always been just 'Hutch'."

We think that is a rather splendid evaluation. R. C..

To secure money to finance his opera-tions he went to Detroit where he roused the interest of C. C. Bowen, Secretary Treasurer of the Ferry Seed Company, who came out here to see just what his eager-eyed young friend was intent on putting across. Mr. Bowen came, saw, and was conquered. Unlimited funds were placed at the disposal of the young man with only a gentleman's agreement to show for the transaction. Mr. Bowen and D. M. Ferry continued to back him for many years in other developments.

From that time forth he was guided by a splendid faith in Arizona's future. "Build up Arizona!" became his watch-word.

Abandoning the horse-drawn scrapers and fresnos with which all of the ditch work had been done all over the west, the first steam dredge was introduced to the surprised citizenry when work was begun on the Mesa Canal.

The machinery was hauled from Tempe by team to the head of the canal where water was turned out of the Salt River by a rough dam. From there the dredge dug its way along like some anti-deluvian monster.

The Indians were lost in amazement when the "Medicine Man's Wonder God" began to throw dirt where their ancesters had worked on miles of that canal centuries before and dirt was carried in baskets on heads and shoulders.

Its working days over, the dredge was stored in a basin dug out of a ditch bank as a Gargantuan Arizona toad buries itself in the moist earth for a winter's sleep.

Dr. Chandler operated the canal system for several years when it was purchased by the government.

Before the transfer some Washington officials were sent on a tour of inspection. They were joined by prominent Valley men who took them on a swing around the project. Hot and dusty the party was served a delicious supper on the cool, shady lawn by Mrs. Chandler at the Chandler ranch home near Mesa.

It soon became apparent to W. J. Murphy, activating head of the Phoenix canal company, and other prominent men, including Dr. Chandler, the imperative need for a permanent reservoir to im-pound the waters of the Salt River.

Eastern capital was first sought to erect a reservoir. But before these plans materialized the government, with Theodore Roosevelt at the helm, had assumed responsibility for such reclama-tion work.

An application was sent in and all re-quirements met by people of the Salt River Valley. After the survey was made on the Consolidated Canal Company property action was long delayed. Dr. Chandler went to find the reason.

On entering the office of the Depart-ment of the Interior, the man at the desk rose and greeted the visitor warmly. "Don't you know me, Dr. Chandler? I'm one of those men you entertained on your cool lawn so long ago."

"Behold, how far a tiny candle sheds its beams!"

No trouble to get a hearing after that. The mouldering documents were exhumed the next day. Roosevelt dam was the first to be constructed in the United States.

Before its completion, water for irrigation purposes in the present Chandler area came from winter flood control run-off until an underground flow was discovered. To put in a system of wells would be a splendid gamble with promise of great dividends. He took it. The wells irrigated thousands of acres of alfalfa.

Then came the Roosevelt reservoir which made it possible to develop the district through colonization under the reclamation program.

With full sanction of Uncle Sam, Dr. Chandler went to Los Angeles and started an advertising campaign which was vastly successful. It led to the settlement of the community by selling 40 acre tracts to each colonist. The district was fortunate in being settled by intelligent farmers. A community not backed up by live-minded farmers is like a ship without a rudder.

With suitable ceremonies the city of Chandler was founded on May 17, 1912, in the heart of fertile alfalfa lands where countless Herefords made the district a mecca for stockmen. No more colorful story could be written than the events of the next few days, weeks, months and years.

Jack's beanstalk grew no faster than did this infant prodigy which sprang, full panoplied, from its swaddling clothes into a beautiful thriving city. Now at the mature age of twenty-seven years, it presents a rather dignified, attractive, prosperous front to the world.

This infant city was not permitted to "just grow" as did Topsy. Before open-ing day the laying out of the townsite was entrusted to the best landscape engi-neers in the west. In the founder's heart has always been an intense love of beauty evidenced in all his undertakings.

Fifty thousand dollars worth of lots were sold opening day. Many contracts carried a building clause making it oblig-atory to build within a year. It was radi-cally different from anything in townsite exploitation in the history of the west, because there was a volume of businessawaiting its founding.

Calvin Coolidge once wrote: "While there are times when the people might enjoy the spectacular, in the end they will only be satisfied with accomplishment."

Picture, if you can, that embryo city with its newspaper, the Chandler Arizonan-born the same day, and ready to publish the events of that week-it has never missed an issue since. Some of the happenings told here were found on its pages.

A Chamber of Commerce was organized; a half million dollars were spent on civic improvements; the San Marcos on the desert was started; homes, business places, a school, and church and negotiations for a railroad all within the space of one year. Chandler was on its way. Here was accomplishment.

To this day, the influence of its founder follows like a silver thread in all its activities.

Although he assumed a personal responsibility in the development of the south side of the Valley, he joined, heart and soul in any venture which meant advancement for Arizona. He was never too busy to show visitors its attractions. Frequent business trips took him east and west, but he would dash madly back to attend a good roads meeting.Fifteen years before the founding of Chandler he had been in Washington and talked with David Fairchild of the De-partment of Agriculture, about the possi-bility of growing Egyptian cotton on irrigated land. He was given seed which had failed elsewhere. It proved a money crop in the valley. (Mr. Fairchild has just published his last book "The World is My Garden.") Recounting the incident The Country Gentleman commented: "The man who can introduce a new crop to a country is rare. The man who can establish the production of a newcrop is far more rare. One man intro-duced Golden Snow Egyptian Cotton tothe Salt River Valley-The man is Dr.A. J. Chandler."

On May, 17, 1937 Chandler, Arizona, celebrated its silver anniversary simultaneously with the golden anniversary of its founder's coming to Arizona, whoserecord of achievement ranks with that ofany other pioneer of the entire west.

In the heart of the city, besides thePlaza with its velvet lawns, shady nooksand running waters, which have beenthe miracle of reclamation, stands thebeautiful San Marcos named in memoryof the Spanish Friar, Marcos de Niza-the first white man to step foot in Arizona four hundred years ago.

He, too, dreamed dreams of a greatempire; but it remained for a Canadian-American to carry out those dreams.

Today, the San Marcos with its shadycorridors and spacious grounds, withevery luxury and modern convenience,stands a not unfitting monument to Mar-cos de Niza and the man who helped tomake his dreams come true.Its guests number many of the top-liners in the world of business, politics,in the arts, in the social world, in theprofessions. On its register the namesof John Galsworthy, Owen D. Young,former President Herbert Hoover, FrankLloyd Wright, Judge Kenesaw Landis,Gene Tunney, Carrie Jacobs Bond andmany others are found.

The San Marcos passed into otherhands in '36, but its genial builder remains where he can greet old friendsand play his daily round of golf. Hetravels extensively but, like the magicalcity of Shangri-la, the spell of Chandlerproves irresistible and pulls him backfrom the four corners of the earth. Heretains his membership in the Good Roadsassociation, also the Los Angeles andPhoenix country clubs.

At the age of seventy he launched his latest enterprise a citrus development at Chandler Heights, fifteen miles southeast of Chandler, lying along the north slope of the San Tan mountains. Although begun during that fatal year of '29 when many a going concern went through the wringer, Chandler Heights Citrus Irrigation District has developed into a successful one.

It is the only completely pipelined district in the entire inland southwest with an abundant water supply from electrically pumped wells. Its community center boasts of a district office, a post office, a church, a trading post, electric power, domestic water system and attractive homes. Its hundreds of acres of citrus grove are outstanding; and today its fruits rank with the finest grown. The merit of the project has been proven.

Since 1892 this southside, agricultural empire has been under the guiding handof Dr. Chandler. It is an epic story of struggling against every impediment, from Nature's appalling forces to man's blindness. But the odds went to the dreamer who did things.

Some years ago the National Geographic Magazine sent a writer to tell of Arizona. After a trip around the valley the man asked: "How on earth did you do it, Dr. Chandler?"

After pondering a moment the answer came: "By looking ahead, always."

Today, more active and younger lookingthan many men of sixty, Dr. Chandlerfinds it irksome to spend time recallingthe past, because the future has so muchto be accomplished..

ARIZONA SKETCH BOOK

PAUL COZE Writer-Ethnologist-Artist (Continued from Page 16) right. He is an engineer like my father,and my grandfather," said Mr. Coze, witha little yearning, and a little envy forthat rating of "intelligent" which hisbrother has appropriated for himself.

But if the record of Paul's accomplishments is allowed to speak for him, it would seem that he too might be called intelligent.

His early education was obtained mostly in Egypt, in Alexandria, and in Paris.

It was while in Egypt that he became a member of the Boy Scouts, and came under influence of the movement which was to occupy so much of his life.

During the war, he was attending school in Paris, a lad of some eleven years.

"About all I remember of the war wasthe lack of food and the lack of sleep.Food was always scarce, but we managedto have enough, somehow. It was sleepthat really mattered.

"Nearly every night, at the time theGermans were shelling Paris, there wouldbe the sound of exploding shells whichwould wake us up. We had to get upthen, and go into the basement for pro-tection, to stay awake until the bom-bardment was over. And no matter howlong it lasted, we had to be up brightand early the next morning for school,"he remembered.

"Once I remember seeing a house cutin two by a shell, right in front of myeyes. But after a while we got usedto it, as anyone can get used to anything,and we merely noted the time of theshelling."

It was at this time that the idea offorming a Scout patrol presented itself tohim. There were no adult men to advise Or supervise, since they were all at the front, so Paul gathered together seven of his companions and taught them what he had learned in Egypt of Scouting. Soon another troup was formed, and the boys went about Paris doing what they could to help.

And from this nucleus came the pre-sent membership of 70,000.

His art education was begun quite early at the National School of Decorative Arts in Paris where he studied four years, followed by ten years of study with the renowned Italian painter, G. F. Gonin, under whose guidance he made an intensive study of all of the media which he now employs, oil, watercolor and crayon, as well as the chemical re-action of colors.

Every field of art has been explored by this young artist. He does with equal ease and facility, a portrait, a landscape or an animal picture. His special inter-est seems to lie in animals, however, and some of his finest work has been done in portraying the horse, especially rodeo stock in action. Photography as an art medium captured his interest a few years ago, and he goes about with his camera quite as often as with palette and brush.

He has held exhibits of his work at the Animal Society and the Decorative Painters and at the National Gallery in Paris, where he is an associate member. He is also a member of the Horse Painter er and Sculptor Society in Paris. In the western world, he has exhibited at the Fine Arts school in Montreal, Canada and in New York and Santa Fe in the United States.

For several years now, his sketches of cowboys and horses in action have illustrated the rodeo programs at the famous Madison Square Garden show in New York. In 1936 he was designated the "official artist" for the rodeo there.

So much for his art, at the moment.

There is another side to this seemingly multiple personality of Paul Coze. He carries within himself a deep, abiding interest in the life of the American Indian, and has spent years making an intensive study of numerous of the North North American tribes. From these studies have come any number of literary works.

For the amusement and enlightenment of his countrymen, he wrote a play based on some of the Indian lore which he had gathered. For his Scouts, he wrote, "Five Scouts among the Redmen," and "Four Fires," recitals of his travels in North America among the various In-dian tribes. His most recent work is "L'Oiseau-Tonnerre" (The Thunderbird) dedicated to John Collier of the Indian Bureau, a treatise on the "magic power" of the Indian as he found it in his inves-tigation of the Indians of Canada, es-pecially the Cree, some of the New York state Indians, the Iroquois particularly, and among the Navajo, Hopi and Apache tribes of the southwest.

One of the most interesting lectures which Mr. Coze has delivered during his stay in Arizona was based upon his Thunderbird book.

His first trip to the United States and Canada, was made in 1928. In 1930, he again traveled across the sea to Canada, this time with six companions on a mission from the Museum of Natural His-tory of Paris. The next year, accompan-ied by his wife, he returned to the same territory to complete his investigations among the Cree, begun the year before. In 1933, he again came to this country to spend about four months in the south-west and in Canada. Since 1934, he has made a yearly voyage to the United States, each time coming to the south-west. And in between these little jaunts to and from the United States, he has found time to visit Sweden, Russia, Po-land, Denmark, to go on a tiger hunt in India (made by air), to write his comings and goings and interesting events in the countries he has visited for numerous French publications, and to draw the illustrations for them, or to take the photographs to illustrate them.

In 1938, in June he again came to this country on an assignment from the Museum of Natural History in Paris. With him were two friends, Joe Schaeffer and Raymond Gid, and the three went about in a very modern trailer across New York to Montreal, to Ottawa, into North Da-kota, to the Crow reservation in Montana, through the west to Hollywood, thence to Santa Fe, and on to the rodeo in New York, where he left his friends, they to return to France, he to come to Phoe-nix for the winter.

But always through his travels run three threads of his interest, his Scout activities, his art and his study of the American Indian.

While in Phoenix, this winter, he has been extremely active among the Boy Scouts, being one of the principal speak-ers at the recent state convention held in Phoenix.

And now comes the most surprising part of this versatile person. He can ride a horse and build a loop with the best of them! His sombrero, his necker-chief, his high heeled boots "belong" to him, and the picture is never out of focus.

"Always, I have loved horses. I learned to ride when very young, of course. And when I came to America and the west, the cowboys and the horses and the rodeos naturally became a part of my life. Inmy own country, the activities of the cowboys had always fascinated me, and it was only natural that the same interest should come to the surface when I came to a part of your country where such activities are commonplace, he said. His genuine interest is proved by the riding and roping club which he formed in Paris. To further prove his real interest in things "western," he invented for the recent rodeo in Phoenix, a brand new game for cowboys to play with a rope on horseback, a game similar to polo but with all the speed and action and hard riding that is second nature to the cowboy. To further interest Frenchmen in cowshows, he wrote a book for them, "Rodeo de Cowboys."

my own country, the activities of the cowboys had always fascinated me, and it was only natural that the same interest should come to the surface when I came to a part of your country where such activities are commonplace, he said. His genuine interest is proved by the riding and roping club which he formed in Paris. To further prove his real interest in things "western," he invented for the recent rodeo in Phoenix, a brand new game for cowboys to play with a rope on horseback, a game similar to polo but with all the speed and action and hard riding that is second nature to the cowboy. To further interest Frenchmen in cowshows, he wrote a book for them, "Rodeo de Cowboys."

There are seeming inconsistencies in the life of this many-sided personality, but in reality they are not there. There is back of everything he does, one driving, motivating force, an insatiable curiosity about his fellowman, coupled with the restless drive of the true pioneer spirit which he inherited from his ancestors (for they were pioneers in other fields, in establishing the first gas manufacturing plants in northeast France and Syria, the first electric plants, pushing the first roads through from Beirut across Iran and Irak; his great-grandfather was the founder of the famous Medical school in Strasbourg).

Early this spring, he plans to return to Paris, but how long he will stay there even he himself does not know. He is writing a novel, the locale of which is in the southwest, which he hoped to finish this winter, but there have been so many other things to do while he stayed in Arizona that little has been accomplished. "I would like to stay in this country. I would like very much to spend, say about nine months of the year in the southwest, and the rest in my homeland -but there are always finances to be considered," he said.

And one, wondering about that, may probe a little deeper to learn that the family fortunes, which were quite large before the war, have shrunk to almost nothing and are only slowly being rebuilt.

"On the Russian side of my family, my mother's, the revolution made every difference. Most of my relatives were killed or died-I have only one old aunt and a cousin, her daughter, now living and the centuries-old estate in Serbia is all gone. Priceless things, tapestries, fur nishings, stolen or destroyed, and the estate itself confiscated.

"On my father's side, things were not quite so bad but one still has to make a living!"

About the present European situation he is strangely quiet. "I do not know. No one knows what will happen. We can only hope."

But one thing is sure. When Paul Coze does return to France, he will take with him photographs, roll after roll of moving pictures, hundreds of sketches which he has made, to add to the record of our Southwest which he has already compiled, and he will take to his country men a new, a greater understanding of a part of the world as foreign to them as their own country is to us. He will take numerous museum pieces to add to some 2,000 already collected. And his friendly interpretation of our manners and customs, and those of our Indian neighbors, will win new friends and new visitors to the southwest.

SPRING IS HERE

Scarcely less interesting, even though less romantic, is the life story of the great saguaro itself, the largest of all cacti. This fine specimen, called aptly the sentinel of the Southwest, will live, grow, blossom, and bear edible fruit every year for as many as four consecutive years even though it may receive not one drop of rain! This sounds incredible, yet true. It has been checked. By its remarkable clingingto life the saguaro commands respect everywhere. Even the noted oak will die without water each year, but the sa guaro stores moisture in its spongy mass and draws on it like a camel, when droughts come. It too, being also a cereus, is shy of the sunshine when flowering time comes, and although its blossoms may be seen in the morning sun, they open best at night and close usually by noon. They are not restricted to just one night's dis play, however. The very waxy white blossoms, larger than a teacup, form a crown for the trunks and arms of the tall saguaro. They are appropriately the official state flower for Arizona, for in this state about 98 percent of all saguaro in the United States are found, forming sometimes an indescribably beautiful forest so thick that you could not ride a horse among them. Of course their fluted trunks and arms are guarded by needle-like spines, dangerous to vandals but beautiful to those who will see. Much akin to it in appearance is the similarly fluted bisnaga or barrel cactus, from which cactus candy is made. Bisnaga's spines are not straight and round like a needle but (an easy way to distinguish it) are flat and curved like a fishhook. Moreover, bisnaga's flowers are quite different too gorgeously color ed things nestled down in their crown of thorns. All of these blossoms give way to fruits that are both beautiful and delicious, and that have economic importance to Indians. The Papago children even date their New Year from the date the first saguaro "apples" are harvested, so important is this fruit to their tribe. The fruit is eaten raw, dried, jellied, pre served. Two other extremely showy desert flowers spectacular things of the rocky hillsides are the yucca and the century plant. The yucca stalk will be topped with a white corsage four feet high, a dense cluster of bell-shaped flowers. The century plant (which really blooms once in 10 to 70 years) is a bizarre thing with clusters of greenish-yellow blossoms on oddly extended arms, the whole stalk being maybe 20 feet tall. These two "cactus plants" always at tract tourists' attention, and not one native southwesterner in 50 is aware that the flowers really aren't cacti at all. This error applies likewise to the ocotillo, a thorny, beautiful flowering plant commonly miscalled a cactus when it is really a candlewood. It is a sad tendency among careless folk to classify everything with thorns as a "cactus." Of course, not all of these showy flowers, and not all of those that cling nearer to the ground, will be in blossom everywhere on Easter Sunday. The dates of flowering vary greatly, from January to August, depending on many conditions of climate, water and altitude. But in general Easter is an ideal time to "go desert flowering." Easter is a day when man is likely to be least self-centered. when he can look at Nature and marvel at its miracles with full appreciation. The visual beauty as well as the symbolism will exalt his soul. The delicately tinted sand verbena; the lupines which, in Texas, become so important in their sheer luxury and quantity as to be the state flower (Blue Bonnet); the "sore-eye poppy" which will indeed be painful to children's eyes if they play with it; the Indian paint brush, a bushy stalk dipped in red; the dainty pom-pom called a Fairy Duster; the yellow masses named Golden Hill; these and a hundred others will force their way into your consciousness if you park your car over yonder out of sight in the ironwood or mesquite or palo verde trees and start out hiking.

SAILING ON LAKE MEAD

(Continued from Page 13) lots of fresh vegetables, canned goods, ice, etc. The boat was equipped with a shiny, gadgeted kitchen . . . beg pardon, the galley . . . a library, radio, electric lights, could sleep six and did . . . four of us in comfortable bunks and two in hammocks.

I was really excited about the trip for it would be my first experience on a real sailboat, which was equipped with no auxiliary motor.

As we sailed out of the harbor, a faint breeze billowed the sails and we moved along very briskly. I was delighted with the ease with which the Loki cut the water. There was no vibration, but the most peaceful, delightful sensation one could imagine.

After sailing across the harbor and into Black Canyon it occurred to me that we were perilously close to the great cliffs. However, just as it seemed that we were headed straight for the sheer walls, the sails were shifted, the tiller handled properly, and we were on our way toward the opposite wall, where the maneuvers was repeated.

As we neared that wedge of concrete that is Boulder Dam, our speed slackened for there was very little wind in Black Canyon. We drifted about the basin directly behind the dam for some time, getting pictures of the great towers, the dam, and a pair of desert burros that had descended the Arizona sideand were gazing contemplatively down at the blue water. It was out of their reach but they didn't seem to mind for they looked drowsy and contented in the warm sun.

The Loki made her way out of the gorge presently, and, nearing the beau tiful red and yellow stained hills on the Arizona side of the basin, changed her course to north where, aided by a fair breeze, she began the 20-mile course across the deep waters toward Boulder Canyon, the original dam site.

Fortification Hill, which towers 2000 feet above the lake on the Arizona shore, seemed to shake its lava-capped head as the yacht silently sped past one bay and rocky point after another. To the west on the Nevada side of the lake and some miles from shore, the snow-capped crown of Mt. Charleston pierced the turquoise sky.

It was a perfect day for sailing. . . a warm sun, light desert breeze, a gorgeous blue sky, plus the most relaxing and enjoyable way to travel imaginable. Mile after mile, with all the ease of A flying teal, the Loki cut the water of the new lake . . . now close to a projecting rock-strewn point, then far out in the mouth of a big fjord, while a colorful, changing shoreline with chalky-white high-water mark sketched at its base, passed in review. About noon the wind subsided and as the warm rays of the Arizona sun began to penetrate, the men donned trunks and were soon splashing in the water.

Long before we reached Boulder Canyon the breeze picked up and about sunset-the sun sets early in December-the Loki passed the first islands which seem to protect Boulder Canyon on the Boulder Basin side.

The colors of the setting sun began playing an aurora on the quiet waters, the granite walls reflected scarlet, old rose, and Parrish blue.

The entire surroundings, painted in unforgettable hues, seemed in terrible quiet, as if Old Man Nature had called a pause prophetic of an end.

As the high lights crept higher and higher up the canyon walls, the Loki, with her sails empty, slipped deeper and deeper in between them.

Pale blue lingered on the rocks following the vivid colors, then a cool gray replaced the blue. As the sloop eased around a sharp turn in Boulder Canyon, all the lights went out as though a curtain had been drawn.

For a moment ghosts from the stories of the old Norsemen seemed to hover over the motionless sails and the rocky, inaccessible walls. What prank might the Loki, herself named for the evil one in old Norse myth, be about?

Then large, bright stars loomed brilliantly overhead and reflected in the water like a ship's lantern. But, aside from these, all was blackness as deep as that in a well.

There was no apparent breeze and Boulder Canyon is supposed to have a two-mile current yet the Loki moved into the night with a sureness and grace that was quite uncanny. The Easterners who had always sailed on the Atlantic coast, were amazed at the way the yacht slipped along with but a few puffs of desert breeze.