The Story of Columbus Giragi

PORTRAIT BY COFFEY

Italian Newsboy

Who rose step by step to fame and honor in the newspaper world, from "throwing in" to writing editorials, and is now publisher of three Northern Arizona weeklies.

By Robert Eunson It was the spring of 1908. Tombstone was one of the largest cities in the state. In the early morning the miners were changing shifts and the chill in the air made them walk fast.

A very short dark-eyed Italian boy of eleven years was selling papers-early morning papers for the miners to read. The lad approached a burly miner and said, "Paper, mister?"

"You're up mighty early fer a little fellow now. What be your name, lad?"

"If you laugh I'll pop you in the nose, My name is Columbus."

"I wouldn't laugh. I admire your spunk. Columbus what?"

"Giragi (Ja-ra-jee.) "Wop, eh?"

"Don't call me Wop. I don't like it. I'm an Italian."

The boy sold all but his last paper and strode into Quong Kee's Chinese restaurant. "Hi there, Quong," he called, "Here's your paper." Quong couldn't read, but his customers could. "I'm starved; how about some eggs?"

The Chinese stood by the youngster's stool and conversed with him through the breakfast. Done, the boy reached for his money sack and the Chinaman said, "Oh no. I trade for you with the paper. You bring the paper here I give you breakfast."

Thirty years later-Easter, 1938 the townspeople of Tombstone gather about a fresh grave in the most famous cemetery in the world, the original Boothill. On the streets of the town the miners no longer are changing shifts. The dim adobe walls whisper of an historic past. The mine is closed and Tombstone lives as a monument to those glorious memories, "the town that was too tough to die."

On Easter Day in 1938 a throng of old timers gathered to pay tribute to Quong Kee, the Chinese pioneer. One by one many speakers praised his contributions to the town. Music was offered; prayers were made. Then a monument was unveiled. The monument came from the far away Petrified Forest in Northern Arizona. On it were the dates of Quong Kee's first and last breaths and the words, "Rest in Peace."

The speaker for the dedication stepped forward. It was Columbus Giragi, the newspaper boy.

Now a man, Columbus Giragi realized that Quong Kee had given him those breakfasts because he wanted to be sure that the little newsboy had plenty to eat. At 41 years of age he realized that a copy of a newspaper wasn't worth a breakfast of eggs not even copies of his own Coconino Sun, published at Flagstaff; Winslow Mail, and Holbrook Tribune News.

The proper petrified log for Quong (Turn to Page 39)