Apaches & Longhorns: The Reminiscences of Will C. Barnes

WILL C. BARNES, who died in Phoenix in 1936, was one of the important figures of the West. Soldier, rancher, legislator, forest official, historian, writer, geographer, observer -he was all of these things. His "Arizona Place Names," published by the University of Arizona, alone would be a monument to the greatness and worth of any man, and a mark of his knowledge of this state.

So it is that we approach the new book, "Apaches & Longhorns the Reminiscences of Will C. Barnes," with the keenest anticipation, which is more than fulfilled by the book itself. We heartily recommend this book for any Western or American bookshelf. Published by the Ward Ritchie Press of Los Angeles, the book sells for $2.50.

The book is edited by Dr. Frank C. Lockwood of the University of Arizona, who supplies a brief but compact introduction to Will C. Barnes, giving the necessary biographical framework upon which the reader can approach the reminiscences.

"During his later years," Dr. Lockwood writes, "Will C. Barnes spent much time in thepreparation of his autobiography, writing down with racy and graphic detail the more exciting and worthwhile incidents of his remarkable life. Indeed, the record was so full and extended that it has seemed to Mrs. Barnes and me that it would gain in unity and would appear to better advantage in book form if limited to an account of the author's Arizona experiences."

So the book gives you Will C. Barnes's reminiscences of territorial Arizona, an exciting revelation of people and happenings on what was America's lustiest frontier. In many ways, it is to be regretted that the long years Barnes spent in Washington, D. C. with the Forest Service, during the formative years of that organization, and other years elsewhere in an interesting and worthwhile life were not included.

Will C. Barnes, private, U. S. Signal Corps, came to Arizona in 1880 to fight the Apaches. "The Tucson of 1880,, he wrote, "was a sorrylooking Mexican town, with narrow, crooked streets lined with one-story houses built of sundried adobe, and mostly with dirt floors and dirt roofs. As I remember the town, there was but one two-story business building in the place, and that one rejoiced in the somewhat doubtful name, 'The Palace Hotel, With brakes shrieking, the long whiplash cracking, our stage pulled up before another so-called 'hotel,' the 'Cosmopolitan,' a one-story adobe. Half of the town was out to see the Overland Stage arrive. The engineer of the famous Santa Fe Limited of 1936 was not half the hero that the driver of the Butterfield Stage was in 1880."

As you turn the pages, you see old Arizona, vivid and authentic. The chapter titles indicate the drama of the book and the activity of the man who describes Arizona of the decades 1880-1900. I Meet the Apaches (Barnes served with the U. S. Army at Fort Apache, was given the citations for conspicuous bravery in action); Fort Apache in 1880; Apache Warfare in 1881; A Toss-up with Fate; Life at Fort Apache Following the Cibecue Outbreak; The Soldier Turns Cowboy; A Plucky Landlady; A Shooting Sheriff; Death Rides in the Hills; In Politics; Playing Sheriff; I Find a New Range; Lament for the Old-time Cowboy; and I Meet Pinchot and Enter the United States Forest Service.

Through the book walk many strong and interesting people, one of the most interesting being Commodore Perry Owens, the sheriff of Apache County. Owens and Apache County of his day have been neglected by historians and writers, for some of Will Barnes' most exciting reminiscences deal with this area where he became a cattleman after leaving the army. Some Many of the oldtimers will tell you that Holbrook in the early days was a tougher and livelier place than Tombstone ever hoped to be. Sheriff Commodore Owens was the iron hand that brought the law and respect for the law into a lawless area.

"Holbrook, in those days" Barnes wrote, "was a woolly town with a population of about two hundred and fifty persons. Three stores, a photograph gallery run by a Chinaman, a chophouse, and five saloons made up the business end of the hamlet."

One of the most exciting incidents in his Arizona life occurred at Holbrook in September, 1887, when he was an eye-witness of the shooting scrape in which Commodore Owens shot Andy Cooper, leader of a band of horse thieves and shot John and young Hamp Blevins and a brother-in-law of the Blevins by the name of Roberts. The shooting took place at the Blevin's home while the sheriff was trying to serve a warrant on Cooper for horse-stealing.

"The interior of that cottage," according to Barnes, "was a dreadful and sickening sight. One dead boy, and three men desperately wounded, lying on the floor. Human blood was over everything. Two hysterical women, one the mother of two of the men, the other John Blevin's young wife, their dresses drenched with blood, were trying to do something for the wounded."

Then he wrote: "The warrant for Cooper's arrest was afterwards turned in by the sheriff to the clerk of the county court. Across its face Owens had written: 'Party against whom this warrant was issued was killed while resisting arrest.'" A grim and gory page in the history of Apache County was thus closed. In all the wild events of Arizona's wildest days there is nothing to surpass this affair for reckless bravery on the part of a Peace Officer.

The reminiscences of Will C. Barnes gives a lustre and a refreshing note to some of early Arizona's most exciting history. He gives you the impression of being an interested bystander; yet in those days there was no place for a bystander. You either had to play your part, for good or bad, and play it well or move on. And Will Barnes played his part well and didn't move on. He features his own actions in such episodes as that before the Arizona territorial legislature when he personally led the fight to carve Navajo County out of a part of Apache County.

Following ranching experiences in Apache and Navajo Counties and in New Mexico, Barnes finally gave up ranching altogether and went to work for the newly-organized U. S. Forest Service under Gifford Pinchot. In his book, there is a chapter called "Lament for the Old-time Cowboy," in which he sums up the old and the new: "The old-style cowboy was more picturesque, but his successor is a better worker and a better citizen; has an bank account, and buys cows or a bit of land with his surplus. The longhorn was picturesque, but its successor weighs twice as much, makes a better feeder, and produces more high-priced meat. The open, trackless range was romantic, but the wire-fences save money in herders, prevent losses in strays and drifters before winter storms, and allow a much better use of the range."

We briefly see his inception into the Forest Service and watch the beginning of that great organization as it came to affect every one of the great Western states. He retired as Assistant Forester and Chief of Grazing at the age of seventy, "that I might spend my remaining years as I pleased." Then he wrote: "I am nearing that foursome period, and sometimes I wonder if the old man with the long whiskers and scythe is not just around the corner; yet I refuse to feel my strength 'labour and sorrow;' and if I go tomorrow it will be with the feeling that every day has been a joy and that I am 'way ahead of the game."

Your life has been complete, when you feel like that. Will Barnes' life was complete . . . R. C.

A map of South Mountain Park shows the extensive development that has been made in this primitive area, described "as the largest municipal park in the United States." The park itself is only seven and one-half miles from metropolitan Phoenix.

Phoenix South Mountain Park

That caterers have found a profitable business in staging them with western trimmings and entertainment. A dinner cooked and served in cowboy style, a yodeling western singer and guitar, a tale or two of bandits, ghosts and gold; an evening spent beneath the moon and stars-it's easy to enjoy; it's recreation.

in staging them with western trimmings and entertainment. A dinner cooked and served in cowboy style, a yodeling western singer and guitar, a tale or two of bandits, ghosts and gold; an evening spent beneath the moon and stars-it's easy to enjoy; it's recreation.

Other parties, day or night, by telephoning the Custodian's office and making arrangements. Horseback riding is also a favorite recreationit affords an outlet for man's inherent love of animals and offers a most beneficial exercise in the best possible environment.

Horseback riding and picnicking can be combined to make the perfect desert outing. Early morning rides to pre-selected spots, where bacon and eggs, Dutch-oven biscuits, honey and coffee await your finishing dash and wildwest yell. Moonlight rides, where the spirit is subdued as you amble along enjoying the little leather squeaks and metallic jingles. Where the mellow half-light rims the giant cactus as he lifts his arms in silent supplication and the jewelry of the skies seems close and warm.

As a public service any of the various developed picnicking spots of South Mountain Park may be reserved for largHiking and climbing are, of course, the hobby of hundreds and are to be enjoyed and encouraged in any locality where the devotee should happen to find himself; but the man or women who enjoys a morning constitutional from Sixteenth Street to Main and return by the swan lake in a wooded park, would whoop for joy to go swinging freely through the greasewood into the glory of a rising desert sun.

Organized hiking of groups or clubs under competent guides and teachers offers much in the way of good social recreation and outdoor education. There is lots to learn and many very interesting and satisfying hobbies to be found in these vast stretches which lie outside This striking view shows one of the largest ramadas in the park. Here 250 people can be seated for chuck wagon dinners. In the distant left is the dance pavilion now in use. A larger pavilion and ramada are under construction.

Then the runs of ordinary human traffic. There are the birds, the bugs, the rocks, reptiles, Indian petroglyphs, cacti, curious plant life, minerals, camera and brush subjects, anthropology and archaeology, all awaiting your interest and all hobbies which will take you out upon the desert and give health as well as knowledge.

In talking of desert hobbies, first place should go to the birds; of all living things there is, perhaps, no other group so beautiful, so interesting or so useful.

For both the novice and lettered entomologist the desert provides a wide and fertile field of investigation and study.

Then comes the desert growth, which is often the first thing to attract the interest of strangers. There are many growing things on the desert which have been much publicized in stories and travelogues of the West.

And there are also the rocks and minerals. Most people fail to notice any rock formations less spectacular than a natural bridge. When hiking in the desert or desert mountains keep an eye on the rocks, they may lead you to an exciting hobby that will take you over miles of new country and be like exploring a new world.

The Indian writings make another study in rocks. As your hike or horseback ride carries you by the protruding rock ledges rising from the desert floor or leads you along the base of the sharply uplifted desert mountain, be sure to keep a lookout for what moderns call petroglyphs, pictographs, or hieroglyphics.

At the far eastern end of the South Mountain Park one may see the famous de Niza Inscription Rock. Carved in the manner of the 16th century ecclesiastical Spanish, it bears the name "Fr. Marcos de Niza" and a short Spanish legend which has been variously translated. The rock is dated in the year 1539 and is of historical value in settling a dispute of many years' standing as to the route or routes taken by the Spanish conqueror Coronado in his quest for the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola.

Here then is a most fertile field of facts awaiting the archaeologist, the anthropologist, and the paleontologist. And many people roaming the desert for the love and thrill of it have returned with invaluable discoveries to aid the men of science in their quest for the full story of man.

THE YAQUI

Then the Yaqui church organization was a definite part of the larger church. The Yaqui in Arizona are merely continuing the ceremonial life which was taught them by the hard-working Jesuit missionaries of the 1600's. The Jesuits were content to combine many pagan practices with the sixteenth century Catholicism of old Spain. So long as the Yaqui learned to profess a faith in the Holy Trinity and to recognize the Christian saints, the Jesuits seemed not to care too much if they also continued to remember some of the pagan deities, the little animal gods and even the sun and moon. Consequently Yaqui religion today appears to us as an odd blending of Christianity with native Indian ritual, although the Yaqui themselves see it as only a satisfying unity.

Nowhere does the blending of old and new appear more clearly than in the Pascola ritual. For the Yaqui the masked Pascola dance is a dearly beloved institution. They regard it as something especially Yaqui and say that all other Indians who have it, learned it from them.

You may see a Pascola dance at any season of the year in a Yaqui village. The Pascola is, literally in the Yaqui language, "The Old Man of the Fiesta" (pahko-ola). He is the symbol of celebration. He may be seen at a saint's day fiesta, at the Easter ceremonies, on the anniversary of a death, or even at the funeral of a child, for a child's death is not an occasion of sorrow since the child goes immediately to Heaven. The Pascola wears a black wooden mask with a white beard, while he dances his rhythmic shuffle to the music of native flute and drum. He speaks to the old animal deities -like Horned Toad and Frog-before he begins his all-night dance, and asks their protection for the fiesta. Between dances as the night wears on, it is his duty to keep the crowd amused with funny stories and puns in the Yaqui language. But you will notice that he wears a cross about his neck and that he prays at the altar before the crucifixes. And if you stay until dawn you will hear him give a sermon in which he speaks not to the animal gods, but to "Itom Yauchiwa Lios" (Our Heavenly Father). You will be hard put to it to classify him as either a Christian or a pagan performer. But however you wish to classify him, you will, like the Yaqui, find him irresistible. You will never forget the Pascola once you have heard the peculiar flicking rattle of the sand-filled cocoons he wears about his ankles or once you have felt the special atmosphere of gaiety which his humor casts over the firelit, shadowy ramadas of a Yaqui night-fiesta.

The supreme religious effort of every Yaqui village comes in February, March, and April each year when they give the Easter ceremonies for which they are justly famous over the length of the United States. In these again there is the baffling combination of Christian and pagan, more baffling to us because the Christianity comes directly from an older form which we have largely forgotten. The Yaqui Easter ceremonies bring us face to face not only with the ancient Indian civilization of Mexico but also with our own Christian ancestors of early Europe who enacted Miracle Plays before their village churches. The Yaqui were taught by the Jesuits to dramatize their Christianity and they have not forgotten how. Through the forty days of Lent to the enactment of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday morning, the inhabitants of a Yaqui village devote themselves to making the last days of Jesus real again in their dusty streets.

monies for which they are justly famous over the length of the United States. In these again there is the baffling combination of Christian and pagan, more baffling to us because the Christianity comes directly from an older form which we have largely forgotten. The Yaqui Easter ceremonies bring us face to face not only with the ancient Indian civilization of Mexico but also with our own Christian ancestors of early Europe who enacted Miracle Plays before their village churches. The Yaqui were taught by the Jesuits to dramatize their Christianity and they have not forgotten how. Through the forty days of Lent to the enactment of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday morning, the inhabitants of a Yaqui village devote themselves to making the last days of Jesus real again in their dusty streets.

It is a Friday afternoon in early March. A crowd is gathering at the little church of rail road ties. The people are obviously preparing for some event. The men wear red or purple handkerchiefs at their throats. The women are in bright calico shirt-waists and wear newly starched skirts that brush the ground as they walk. Out in the desert at the edge of the village appears a strange form. Bobbing along among the creosote bushes and prickly pears, now and then skipping gaily for a step of two, may be seen a masked figure with a gunny sack over its back. It is painted white and has a long, thin, pointed nose and big flapping ears decorated in red, black, and green. The creature wears a heavy blanket and on its feet are hide sandals. It seems to be trying to skirt the village and get away into the desert. But suddenly from a little shed beside the church out gallops another such being, on through the plaza and into the desert, where he overtakes the other. Amid protests the creature with the gunny sack is pushed towards the plaza. The two masked beings struggle in mock battle. The crowd of people are looking and smiling. Finally the newcomer gives in and allows himself to be directed over to the shed beside the church. There he is accosted by the head of the Fariseo society and they proceed to have a long conversation in pantomime, the masked creature uttering no sound and responding only with gesticulations of the two sticks that he carries. Finally the Fariseo captain satisfies himself as to the identity of the creature and ushers him into the screened back room of the Fariseo shed.

This is one of the important opening scenes in the Easter ceremonies. It is the coming of the Pharisees, represented by the strangely masked beings who are called Chapayekam in Yaqui. If you are curious as to the meaning of the event, you may get a Yaqui to tell you. If he is so inclined, he will explain that these masked men come in from some distant, mysterious place, a few at a time during the Fridays of Lent. They are evil, irreverent beings who are gathering to carry out their great crime, the Crucifixion of Christ, which will take place on Good Friday, and each has to be persuaded to stay in the village and work with the Fariseo society until Easter Sunday. They never speak while they have their masks on. They must keep a rosary in their mouths under the mask, in order to prevent the evil of their assumed characters from entering their own souls.

Later you may see the Chapayeka come out of the shed, still with his blanket and sandals on, but without his ugly mask. You may recognize him now as the man who made the adobes for your house or picked your cotton this year. For the Chapayekam are in real life the young men of the community who have made a vow to carry out their difficult duties during Easter. It is they who perform all the heavy labor involved in the long series of ceremonies, such as setting up the crosses of the Via Crucis and hauling the great piles of wood for cooking the fiesta meals. They will tell you that being a Chapayeka is hard and unThe Chapayekam gather in force till Holy Week. It is they who are the real actors in the Yaqui portrayal of the Passion of Christ. They enact the Betrayal in the Garden of Gethsemane on Maundy Thursday, the Crucifixion on Good Friday, and the Attack on the Church on Holy Saturday. Nearly every Yaqui man, by the time he is middle-aged, has had some part in these dramatically-conceived representations of the last days of Christ. It is safe to say that the average Yaqui has a closer and more realistic acquaintance with the story of the Passion than has the average American.

The little group of three thousand Yaqui in Arizona is a not-to-be-neglected element in our population. The northern outposts of a tribe that today numbers nearly ten thousand in Mexico, they have made their way in the United States. They are valued workers on our railroad and ranches. Some are climbing up the economic ladder as they spend more time in our schools. They have produced at least one authentic poet. Their ceremonial life is adding to the already varied Arizona scene. The Matachin dancers, the Pascolas, the Easter ceremonies are giving Arizona a color and a beauty which no other group among us can give. The refugee Indians of the unobtrusive villages are leaving their imprint on our lives.