The Mormon Battalion

to their religious leaders and second to their civil. Furthermore the group included seven large families, including a number of old men and women, besides some twenty-five of the wives of the men. For such a group to set out on a march of two thousand miles over a little known country was a stupendous undertaking. What wonder that their leader, Lieutenant Colonel P. St. George Cook should have said on the completion of the journey, "History will be searched in vain for an equal march of infantry." In still another thing the Mormon Battalion may be counted as distinctive. It is doubtful that any other military group, at least any group of infantrymen ever produced such a crop of daily diaries and journals. I have read seven published ones and within the month have located an eighth which has not yet even been copied. One experience I cannot refrain from telling. I secured a large, leather-bound ledger of dignified appearance, which I was told was a journal of Henry W. Bigler. It had been used as a scrap book; every page was covered to the very edge with newspaper clippings, sentimental poems, recipes, and handy hints, so that not one bit of handwriting was in sight. If there was a hand-written journal beneath it, I was going to dig it out, and dig it out I did, for some of the pasted-on material was three layers deep. I considered it a challenge to my patience and ingenuity. I tried scraping it off; I tried soaking it off. Finally, after much experimentation, I found that a towel wrung out of hot water and pressed on a page with a weight for a minute or two would steam the paper loose. The parts put on by mucilage would peel off in large sheets, while those put on with flour-and-water paste must be scraped off with razor blades. Underneath, the handwriting in purple ink was bright and legible, an account day-by-day of the Mormon Battalion march! Why is it that a hand-written original seems more intimate, more personal, more full of flavor? If in this article I quote more from this version of Henry W. Bigler, as yet unpublished, than I do from other writers, this association can be given as the reason. It is from these daily accounts that one gets the best close-up of the experiences of the Mormon Battalion. Though they may lack the perspective which would include the group experience, or the proper relationship which could be secured from no other source. The company was sworn in July 16, 1846, and received its first issue of rations. They now had flour, but no utensils to cook it in. They learned to mix their dough carefully in the top of the sack, to cut the bark from trees for kneading troughs, to bake it in little knobs on the end of a stick held over the coals, or on a smooth heated rock. Since they had decided to march in their old clothing, they moved on to Fort Leavenworth, where they arrived on August 1st. In some ways this first fifteen days' march was especially hard, for it meant the adjustments to military life, the first organization, and the toughening of the men to take a full day's walking. At Fort Leavenworth they received their first equipment of tents, one to every six privates, and their arms and accoutrements. Here, too, they drew their first pay, and to the surprise of the officer, every man of them was able to sign his own name. At Leavenworth, where they stayed twelve days, they spent their time drilling and becoming more familiar with military tactics. Here their commander was taken ill, and they finally were ordered out without him. Bigler reports that his mess prayed for

MAY, 1943

Colonel Allen, knowing that he was a gentleman and "lest a more tyrannical man takes command." Their prayers were not answered; their leader died in a few days. The Mormon recruits had understood that in the event of the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Allen one of their own men should lead them, and had set their minds on Captain Jefferson Hunt of Company "A," so when Major Horton, who was in command at Fort Leavenworth, sent Lieutenant A. J. Smith to take command, he was met with resentment on every hand. For a time it looked as if there would be open mutiny, and Smith never did have the loyal allegiance of his men. There were at least two reasons for this. One was that, where Colonel Allen had recognized their church beliefs and practices, had permitted the men to pray in their various groups and to anoint their sick with oil and bless them according to the Mormon custom, Smith ordered all the sick to report to Dr. George B. Sander son, whom he had brought along from Fort Leavenworth. With regard to their physician, most of the writers express themselves freely and with bitter eloquence. They hated him with all their hearts; they hated the old iron spoon with which he administered his doses of calomel. They dubbed him "Captain Death", and blamed him privately for all the disasters, while they gave God the credit for the recoveries. A man had to be sick indeed to join the group of "Jim along, Joseys." Henry L. Bigler, writing under date of Thursday 3 (September, 1846) gives a typical account: "This afternoon Mr. Smith or as we now call him Colonel Smith who had been accepted by our officers to act as Colonel protem on the death of Colonel Allen, began to show his love for the Mormons by ordering all the sick out of the wagons and swore that if they did not walk he would tie them fast to the wagons and drag them after the wagons unless they took such medicine as the doctor should prescribe which they did not like to do and had refused as the surgeon or doctor was a Missourian, did not belong to our people and had been heard to say that he did not care a damn whether he killed or cured (his name was Sanderson). But Colonel Smith was told that before they would take Doctor Sanderson's medicines, they would leave their bones first to bleach upon the prairies. I was told that the doctor himself came up about this time and ordered the sick out of the wagons and swore not a man should ride except by his permission and his permission should not be given except those returned sick should take his medicine. He also said if he knew of any one prescribing any medicine to any sick without his orders he would cut his damned throat. We had among our own men, I understand, several practical doctors." Thus the six weeks spent between Fort Leavenworth and Santa Fe was a time of friction and complaint. At one time "one of Captain Brown's wagons containing some of our sick upset in the creek and gave the sick a wetting", but evidently with no ill effects; at another, a violent storm tore the covers from the wagons and upset some of them, while the hail stones were so large that the mules stan.peded to the timber. There was much sickness; there were some deaths. When the last crossing of the Arkansas was reached on the 16th of September, the commanding officer insisted that most of the families that had accompanied the Battalion-some twelve or fifteen in number be detached from the group and sent under a guard c. ten men up the Arkansas River to winter at Pueblo, It was well that he did, for the road became increasingly difficult. There was no fuel except the buffalo chips and a sort of shadscale or tumbleweed, and it was hard to prepare their meals. The men at last learned to dig a narrow trench in which to build their fires in order to husband the heat. The ponds of water were made filthy by the buffalo and offensive by the sun, "as thick as gruel", one man said, "but we drank it." Their cattle began to give out and had to be left, or better, killed and eaten. "When a poor ox gives out he is kild and brought into camp for the soldiers to eat and we luxuriate on beef soup", Bigler wrote, not guessing then that before the journey was over he would be glad even for the offal of such animals. The Battalion arrived at Santa Fe in two groups, one on the 9th of October and one on the 12th. Here the command was taken over by Colonel P. St. George Cooke, who was to take the men on to California. Colonel Cooke was a good officer and a strict disciplinarian; he pointed his speech with invectives, for he had a rare combination of swear words. Though their blood sometimes boiled at his methods of seasoning his orders, they came to respect and trust him, while he in turn developed a great admiration for the pluck and stamina of his men. Years later when he entered Great Salt Lake City in company with the group of Johnston's army, Colonel Cooke rode uncovered through the streets out of respect for the men who had been under him in the Mormon Bat-

Battalion.

In summarizing the condition of the men when he assumed command, Colonel Cooke said: "It was enlisted too much by families; some were too old and feeble, and some were too young; it was embarrassed by many women; it was undisciplined; it was much worn by traveling on foot, and marching from Nauvoo, Illinois; their clothing was very scant; there was no money to pay them, or clothing to issue; their mules were utterly broken down; the quartermaster department was without funds, and its credit bad; and animals were scarce. Those procured were very inferior, and were deteriorating every hour for lack of forage or grazing."

Colonel Cooke immediately sent eighty-six more men and all the women except five back to, join the group at Pueblo, for he knew that the journey ahead would test the mettle of the strongest. There were full rations for only sixty days of flour, sugar, coffee, and salt, with salt pork enough for thirty days and soap enough for twenty. And the journey lasted one hundred and three days! Besides this, a great deal of the flour was lost in the crossing of the Gila.

The group left Santa Fe on the 19th of October, taking a southerly direction. The country over which they traveled was sandy and unbroken, so that the men were often hitched to long ropes to help the mules pull the wagons, twenty to each. At other times they were marched in double-single file, in each other's footsteps, to make tracks for the wagons. The extra exertion and the short rations proved too much for some of the men, so that on the 10th of November fifty-five more were declared unfit for the journey and sent back to join the others at Pueblo.

The only fighting which the Battalion did was with a herd of wild bulls which charged into their ranks. Practically every account tells of how they gored several mules, tossed one man into the air, and injured several others, while the cool head and excellent marksmanship of still another of the group brought a ferocious bull down at his very feet. They expected an encounter at Tucson, but arrived to find the place barren of soldiers, the Mexican garrison having retreated into the mountains.

After a three-day rest the company moved on and marched to the Gila. Here Colonel Cooke attempted to construct a ferry by lashing two wagon boxes end to end on dry cottonwood logs. On this improvised boat he placed two thousand five hundred pounds of provisions. The experiment was a failure; the boats ran into shoals and sand bars, much of the load was left in one place or another and never recovered. To a group already on three-quarters rations this was disaster indeed. The men tried experimenting with the fruit of the mesquite trees which grow in the river bottom. Henry W. Bigler described the fruit as "resembling many caterpillars hanging together" and says of the experience of his mess, "Some of the boys gathered and ground it in their coffee mills and mixed the meal with flour half and half and baked it for bread and it ate very well, but there was one grand difficulty with this fruit and that was it bound the boys who ate of it so tight that some of them became frightened and thought they never would be delivered without sending for Doctor Sander-son!"

The problem of food became more and more acute. The men sold the buttons off their coats for meal from the Indians; at one time James S. Brown traded his belt for a hatful of mush made from ground-up acorns and holding up his pants with one hand and his hat full of mush with the other he joined his mess like a conquering hero. They boiled bones again and again; they scraped the hides and ate them; they sucked the nourishment from the soft edges of hooves and horns; they even roasted the intestines and ate them. "I eat guts for the first time today though many have eat them before", Henry Standage wrote grimly.

In the matter of clothing they were just as bad off. "The men were nearly barefooted", Daniel Tyler wrote, "some used, instead of shoes, rawhide wrapped around their feet, while others improvised a novel style of boots by stripping the skin from the leg of an ox. To do this, a ring was cut around the hide above and below the gambrel joint, and then the skin taken off without cutting it lengthwise. After this, the lower end was sewed up with sinews, when it was ready for the wearer, the natural crook of the hide adapting it somewhat to the shape of the foot. Others wrapped cast-off clothing around their feet to shield them from the burning sand during the day and the cold at night."

But it was for water that they suffered most during the part of the journey that lay through what the books call the "Colorado Desert". Mirages mocked their thirst; they would chew at buckshot to try to stimulate the flow of saliva; they finally staggered along with black faces and sunken eyes until they fell of exhaustion. Often the company would be stretched over five or six miles, each man making it as he could. If it had not been that those that were strong enough to reach water had carried it back to their weaker brethren on the trail, many would never have seen California.

They did learn to share with each other and to co-operate. Perhaps as good an example as any is told by James S. Brown. "In our mess, the last spoonful of flour was made into a thin gravy by stirring it into some water where some of our glue-like beef had been boiled. This so-called gravy was divided among the men by spoonfuls, then the pan was scraped with a table knife and wiped into a spoon, and with the point of the same knife it was divided into seven parts. Each man watched the division; and I do not believe there was one man out of seven but would have fought for his share of that spoonful of pan-scrapings. Nor do I believe there was one who would have robbed his comrades. For the last three or four hundred miles we had been in the habit of cooking the food, and dividing it into seven equal parts. Then one man would turn his back, and the cook or the one who had made the division would touch each morsel and say, "Who shall have that?" whereupon the one whose back was turned would say, so and so, calling each messmate by name, until all had been "touched off", as we used to call it."

If the men suffered from thirst during part of the journey, they also had experiences with too much water. At one time when they were camped high in the mountains it rained until they all lay half a side deep in mud and the ground was soft enough "to mire a blanket". After such a night, one of the men crawled to the door of his tent, stood up, and slapping his sides crowed lustily like a rooster. This cheerful call was the announcement that some flour had arrived in the camp. At the door of the tent from which it was being dispersed, someone had found an old fiddle that had fared better than its owner, and struck up a lively air. Immediately a number of men formed a couple of "French Fours" and began dancing in water half up to their shoe tops.

The Colonel, who sat with his head in his hands, jumped up.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," some one told him, "only the boys are dancing and making merry over the prospect of getting a little flour."

"I never saw such a damned set of men in my life", the Colonel said. "Some dry clothes and a little flour and they are as happy as Gods."

One cannot read the diaries of these men without being impressed with the sustaining power of faith, for every one makes a point of the fact the Hand of God had been over them to protect them, and that the promises made to them by their leader had been fulfilled. Theirs was a mission divinely ordered, they thought; they were doing more than just march to California; they were working for the Kingdom of God. Quite early in the journey Henry W. Bigler had written of a meeting of the group wherein the speakers had "stirred up our minds to a remembrance to our duty to God, the mission we were on and the sacrifices we had made to go at the call of our country. The goodness of God manifested towards us that the hand of God was in this very move and remember that we were Elders of Israel, etc. I am not well today but since the meeting I feel better and our sick feel better.

Sojourn In Hopiland

(Continued from Page Thirteen) In the village. Of course, she was entirely dependent upon her own skill as to finishing her pictures once they had been taken. Her accounts of how, in order to obtain pure water she kept a barrel to catch the run-off of rain water from the house tops, and how she often had to take out the dead mice and other small animals from the barrel and then strain the water, makes one realize what a joy such work must be to the modern pictorialists with ultra-modern conveniences.

The picturization of the Snake Myth by Miss Cory, now in the Smoki Public Museum at Prescott, is most artistic and educational, but far more beautiful and intriguing work is her painting of the Nemon Katcina and the interpretation of this mystical ceremony. The painting shows the ceremony of the annual home going of the Katcinas from the mesa village to return in the fall. These Katcinas, the spirits of the departed ones, go home each year after having spent a portion of the year dwelling in the villages as spirits. In the picture one sees the Hopi gathered on the plaza of a mesa village, which is near the great mesa edge, and the Katcina dancers performing the traditional ceremony. In the clouds is portrayed the real Katcinas (spirits) dancing in like formation to the dancers on the mesathe belief being that as the dance is presented on the mesa the Katcinas are dancing in the sky or clouds. It is assuredly a fine portrayal of a beautiful belief of the unity of the spheres of life. One might suspect that this painting represents something of a farewell of Kate T. Cory to Hopiland since it was not long after sketching this work that she left her friends in the mesas to establish her permanent home at Prescott.

In 1912 Miss Cory left the Reservation and soon established her home in Idylwild near Prescott, later moving into the city where she now maintains her home and studio. Her interest in Indians is sustained, but artistically she turned increasingly to landscape and has done very fine work in presenting the wonders and beauties of her adopted land. Of special mention are her subjects of the Grand Canyon country and the flora of Arizona. Two paint ings are now hung in the Prescott Public Library which together show over fifty different flowers, trees, cacti and shrubs, all native of the state. When it became known that Boulder Dam was to be constructed and the site had been decided, Miss Cory did a very unusual thing. She packed up and arranged for a trip into the Black Canyon and spent days on location painting a canvas portraying the Canyon at the dam site before construction of the great dam was started. She has kept artistic and accurate record for all future generations to behold of the Canyon in its natural state that is now the reservoir of plenty for thousands of people in the Southwest. This picture should be obtained by Arizona and given a prominent and permanent display in our State Library and Archives.

The story of her journey to the canyon making the final stage in a small row boat is worthy of lengthy treatment by some future recorder. Photographs taken at the time of the journey indicate the difficulty of travel and the hardships of life that were encountered in order that this record might be made. It is just such services as this that Miss Cory has been giving to Arizona all of these thirty-five years of her residence here.

MAY, 1943 During World War I, Miss Cory felt that there was a service for her to render to her country and for a time she was away from Arizona doing yeoman service in Eastern plants with government contracts. First she was engaged in the work of the Women's Land Army, a war garden project. This was carried out on Long Island and a colony of women organized and worked on the estates as gardeners doing hard manual labor to increase the supply of vegetables for home consumption. From this work she went to the plant of the Standard Aircraft of Newark, New Jersey, where she was engaged to re-draw plans of planes of British design and in checking the materials used for the construction of airplane wings. In this connection, she for sometime applied her artistic skills in camouflage work. All of this work completed and the Armistice signed, Miss Cory returned to Prescott and her career.

In the years immediately following her return, she was busy with her painting, but added to this hobbies of sculpturing, architectural designing, and the designing of patterns for use in china manufacture. Her absorbing interest has been promoting a wider use of Indian designs in various ways, and one who has the opportunity of seeing some of her unusual work will agree that most intriguing and pleasing designs and patterns can be obtained for such purposes. One of the most interesting of all her creations has been wall paper pat-terns carrying the Hopi theme and design. One cannot but wish that more manufacturers were artistic as well as practical because much more beauty could be given to the public in very serviceable goods. Miss Cory can convince the skeptic on this point very quickly.

In 1921, a movement began in Prescott that has become one of the most unique in all the world. It was then that the Smoki People had their beginning. Miss Cory gave much in inspiration and knowledge that has materialized in this very fine organization of white men and women dedicated to the purpose of perpetuating the ancient rites and ceremonies of the Indians of the Southwest. The Smoki maintain a public museum in Prescott and some of the very finest of Miss Cory's paintings are on display there, while others, including the Pioneer Woman, are now permanently hung in the Sharlot Hall Museum in the same city.

A collection of Kate T. Cory's paintings, studies of Hopi life, are in the Smithsonian Museum of Washington, D. C. This is adequate testimony of the accuracy and ability of this fine artist whose entire life and purpose is centered in Arizona. That she has made a worthy contribution to our heritage cannot be questioned. Many of her finest works are in the hands of private collectors and many are the homes that are finer because a canvas of hers adorns the wall. In the mind of this writer, monumental among her works are those described earlier, including the por-trayal of the Snake Myth, and Nemon Katcina, and Immigration, all in the Smoki Public muMuseum in Prescott; the Dry Season now in the art museum in San Diego, California; and those of Arizona Flora in the Prescott Public Library; but others of rare color tone are in the hands of devoted and admiring individuals throughout Arizona and the United States.

It should be mentioned that Miss Cory comes from a "family" of artists. A cousin, Fanny Y. Cory, is a cartoonist and illustrator with Liberty Magazine and the creator of the comic strip "Little Miss Muffet" of the King Feature Syndicate. Another cousin, B. Cory Kilvert, is an artist of note, a cartoonist and illustrator whose works have appeared often on the covers of Life in years gone by. A third cousin, the late Jack Cory, was a cartoonist with the Hearst syndicate for many years. None of them could be more devoted to his task in life than the cousin in Arizona.

Kate T. Cory is an indefatigable bundle of determination, possessing energy and creativity and bearing the traditionl artist's cross of a public not always attuned to the altruistically conceived ideas of beauty and humanitarian betterment. She has lived long enough to see some of her own creative concepts later blossom forth as others' ideas to gain favor and recognition, and has philosophically accepted them as for the good of an entire community, seeking no self-assertive acknowledgement. She has little concern for that for which others strive-recognition, power, and wealth. Her mind is active in too many directions to leave her time for over-indulgence in housekeeping and any way her possessions do not lend themselves to extreme tidiness. In her home the interested person is soon gliding off into vistas of scenic beauty, adventures of great expanse, recollections of rich rarity, and lore of an ancient people. Everything around her has meaning and the stories reflected in a planting stick or an old pitcher or a faded letter are so intensely engrossing that one is entirely released from the encumbering notion of ordinary tidiness and realizes that this studio-home is filled with an enchanting difference.

Miss Cory is a small wiry woman whose passion for doing good deeds almost exceeds her strength and endurance. She is mild of manner but capable of strong expression and action when motivated by what she considers injustice or indifference. She has a great sense of humor both towards herself and towards the dullness of life in general. She is indifferent to what many consider the essentials. Food and clothing are necessary, but are not fetishes before which one bows in tribute. She has learned much from her Hopi friends, and frugality is a habit.

Kate Cory portrays both her New England and her Arizona environment. She is strong in her self possession, rugged in her individualism, calm in disappointment, determined in her goals, persistent in her endeavors, upright in her beliefs, and devoted to her friends. Miss Cary typifies as do her creations the struggle for life and the strength of living. Dry seasons come to be followed by rain and the katcinas go away in the summer to return in the fall. There is rhythm and fortitude as well as pattern and taste in the cycle of life, and all go into the forming of character for a person and for a people.

This little unassuming woman has served Arizona well and has recorded on canvas beautifully and accurately that which a future generation may appreciate more than the one of today. So it has often been with creative spirits who have sought to interpret that which seems near at hand and thus prosaic. She has done much for the Hopi and for Arizona, her land beloved.

The Mormon Battalion (Cont;inued from Page Forty)

So it was to the end. They held prayer in their different groups; they encouraged and sustained each other, and when they could hardly make it on their own power, they de-pended on God to see them through.

The Battalion reached its destination at San Diego on January 29, 1847. Of the original five hundred, there were only some three hundred who were with it to the end, since three different groups had been sent back and a num-ber had died. Of the twenty wagons that left Santa Fe, all but five had been abandoned or had fallen to pieces en route, while the num-ber of mules that had been left along the trail was pathetic. They took up quarters at the San Luis Rey Mission, from which place small de-tachments were sent out for various duties.

In the spring there was an attempt to per-suade the Battalion men to re-enlist, but most of them had had enough of army life. They wanted to return to their own people, in the mountains. Of them all, only eighty-one, offi-cers and men, re-enlisted for six months. The others organized into companies, secured horses, mules, and outfits, and started for the Great Basin of the Rocky Mountains going by Sut-ter's Fort. At the suggestion of Brigham Young some of them stayed there and worked, and it was some of these that joined in the discovery of gold.

The direct contributions of the Battalion to their church can be easily summarized. They gave a portion of their pay upon enlistment to help the group secure outfits and provisions to get to Utah; they sent back a part of it again from Santa Fe by John D. Lee and Howard Egan to assist the Saints further. The money which the Battalion boys earned in California was taken, some $1,950.00, and used by the church to purchase the claims of Miles Good-year at the mouth of Weber Canyon. Of the group that re-enlisted, some twenty men re-turned to Salt Lake City by the southern route, bringing one wagon and one hundred and thirty-five mules, thus breaking the first wagon road over what had before been only a pack trail, and opening up the southern route to the sea. Highway 91 now follows their route rather closely.

Just as important to the Mormon church were the seeds which the returning members brought, and the cuttings for trees and vines. Lieutenant James Pace introduced the club-head wheat; Daniel Tyler brought the Califor-nia pea. They all brought new ideas of irriga-tion from the Indians of the southwest.

To the nation as a whole, these men assisted in securing the state of California and much of the intermountain territory. Their route through southern Arizona marked out the one now followed by the Southern Pacific Railroad and resulted in the Gadsen Purchase which added another large and valuable tract to the United States Territory.

Though later in developing, there were many benefits to the State of Arizona. When these men straggled across the state, entering about where the town of Douglas now is; they pierced the "American backbone" near the San Guada-lupe Pass. From here they crossed straight to the San Pedro River, followed its valley some sixty miles, and turned west to Tucson. From Tucson they crossed straight northwest to the Gila, striking it at the Pima villages, and from there on they followed Kearney's route. As they went, they made observations of the country; they noted the more promising valleys, they examined the irrigation systems of the natives. What wonder, then, that when the Mormon Church began to stretch out colonizing hands toward the south west, these men should, some of them, be called back?

There is a record of thirty-three members of the Battalion who later returned to Arizona to make their homes. Christopher Layton led a colonizing party to the Valley of the San Pedro in 1883. Henry W. Brizzee was a leading pioneer of Mesa; Philemon C. Merrill was prominent in the San Pedro and Gila valleys. Lot Smith had extensive holdings in the northeast-ern part of the state, where he was killed by the Indians. Henry G. Boyle became the first president of the L.D.S. mission in the Southern States, and was so impressed with the view he had of Arizona in Battalion days that he sent a party of Arkansas immigrants to the state.

McClintock's "Mormon Settlement in Arizona" gives a list of the members who settled in Arizona as follows: Wesley Adair, Co. C, Showlow; Rufus C. Allen, Co. A, Las Vegas; Reuben W. Allred, Co. A, Pima; Mrs. Elzada Ford Allred, accompanied husband; Henry G. Boyle, Co. C, Pima; Henry W. Brizzee, Co. D, Mesa; James S. Brown, Co. D. Moencopi; Edward Bunker, Co. E, St. David; George P. Dykes, Co. D, Mesa; William A. Follett, Co. E, near Showlow; Schuyler Hulett, Co. A, Phoenix; John Hunt,, Snowflake, accompanied his father, Capt. Jef-ferson Hunt; Marshall (Martial) Hunt, Co. A, Snowflake; William J. Johnston, Co. C, Mesa; Nathaniel V. Jones, Co. D, Las Vegas; Hyrum Judd, Co. E, Sunset and Pima; Zadok Judd, Co. E, Fredonia; Christopher Layton, Co. C, Thatcher; Samuel Lewis, Co. C, Thatcher; William B. Maxwell, Co. D, Springerville; William C. McClellan, Co. E, Sunset; Philemon C. Merrill, Co. B, Pima; James Pace, Co. E, Thatcher; Wilson D. Pace, Co. E, Thatcher; Sanford Porter, Co. E, Sunset; William C. Prous (Prows), Co. B, Mesa; David Pulsipher, Co. C, Concho; Samuel H. Rogers, Co. B, Snowflake; Henry Standage, Co. E, Mesa; George E. Steele, Co. A, Mesa; John Steele, Co. D, Moencopi; Lot Smith, Co. E, Sunset and Tuba; Samuel Thompson, Co. C, Mesa.

Each of these men represented a large group, both of his family and friends, so that the final effect of the Mormon Battalion on the state has been important and lasting. The Mormon Church has erected a monument to their memory on the Capitol grounds in Salt Lake City, but perhaps the monument of communities in the midst of the desert is more significant of their accomplishments.

GOODYEAR Builds Tools of Victory (Continued from Page Nineteen)

The machine formed shapes pass along to the third little factory, and to the fourth, and the fifth, until finally they come to the bench of a skilled metal craftsman.

Machines are good, but they are not good enough. The final shaping, the trimming and the smoothing are all done by hand.

When the part is shaped and smoothed and drilled to exacting tolerances, it moves on to be cleaned. On its journey so far, the shiny metal has picked up acid from the sweat of the worker's hands, oil from the machines. In the cleaning room it is subjected to a powerful non-injurious chemical. Every trace of foreign matter is removed.

Parts that are cleaned are now ready for one of the most amazing of the technical pro-cesses at Goodyear. They are dipped in a huge tank and anodized by an electrolytic process. This will protect the metal against corrosion. When the parts assume their appointed job in the giant flying boat, they will be comparatively safe from the destructive action of salt water.

The anodized parts move on to the paint shop. Anyone who has ever been near an automobile paint shop where lacquer and similar surface protectors are applied with an air brush will remember the odor of the air heavy with paint.

To protect their workers against this health menace, Goodyear has built a waterfall twenty feet long and ten feet high. Behind the water-fall are powerful suction pumps. The air in the paint shop is constantly exhausted through this water and the water gathers the particles of paint. Thanks to this ingenious protective device there are no unpleasant paint fumes. Thousands of parts can be sprayed each hour and the air in the room remains clear and healthful.

From the paint shop the parts move on to the finished parts store. Here again are racks and bins and shelves with some six thousand catalogue items.

All the hundreds of little factories working on raw materials are operated with one goal. They must maintain the inventory of finished parts.

Beyond the finished parts store are hundreds of individual sections devoted to sub-assembly. It would require thousands of words to follow the complete process. For example, let's see what is done in the manufacture of the bucket seats for the pilot and co-pilot.

Well, a chair is a chair, isn't it? What's so complicated about this? To begin with, the chairs must be extremely comfortable. The pilot may sit at his controls twenty-four hours at a stretch, and every minute that he is there, he must be free to concentrate all his skill on the task of flying the giant boat.

So this chair must be adjustable. He must be able to raise and lower it with ease. It must move forward and backward, for the legs of all pilots are not the same length. The back must tilt, and it must be strong.

In the pilot's chairs at Goodyear there are at least fifty different parts. To assemble these parts inside the flight deck would be a disastrous waste of time, so they are fitted together piece by piece in a sub-assembly.

On the side of the boat, in the wall of the flight deck there is a small escape hatch, an emergency exit for the operating crew. The hatch must be light and strong and water-proof. It must have the shape and general contour of the side panel itself.

The completed hatch is the result of the assembly of perhaps a hundred small pieces. The frame, the panel itself, the rim of the opening to which it fits, the locking mechanism, all these things are put together in the sub-assembly. When the great deck begins to take shape on the final assembly lines the hatch is swung into place in the minimum of time.

Leading into the final assembly line are three lines of jigs on dollies. One carries the deck, one the left side panel, and one the right side panel. The lines move forward together. The cabins grow and take shape. Bearings for the control linkage, the underfloor parts of the controls, all the amazing complicated gadgets are added, one by one. The aft deck is added to the forward deck until the floor is finally completed.

In the meantime the side panels have been growing on their assembly lines, with their hundreds of shapes and stiffners, their openings, and the parts of the operating machinery which they will carry.

The three lines meet in the mating jig. Here massive side panels ten feet high and perhaps twenty feet long are joined to the floor or deck. Part of the roof is installed. Bit by bit from the sub-assembly lines complicated sections are added.

Each crew of workers has only one or two duties to perform. Their skill has been developed with months of practice. They are masters at their jobs.

Less than twenty-five per cent of the workers at Goodyear were skilled mechanics at the time of their employment. Goodyear's record of success in training this unskilled personnel is as impressive as the production record these workers have established.

The problem of teaching these people on the job resulted in a number of revolutionary instruction systems. Engineers work with blue prints. The complicated lines, arcs and angles on the drawings are readily understood by anyone with a technical background. But most of the employees at Goodyear had no technical background. To them a blue print was an unintelligible jumble, a meaningless complexity.

The ingenious executives realized that to train these people to read blue prints would be an unproductive waste of time, so they worked it out this way. An art department was established, and a corps of artists was recruited. Men and women who had devoted their lives to the study and form of pleasing composition discovered there was a demand for their talent in the war effort. They weren't hired to paint pretty pictures, to do landscapes, or desert scenes. They were hired to draw perspective pictures of the individual parts which the new employees must build.

A former insurance salesman to whom a blue print meant nothing, now had a life-like realistic perspective picture. He could look at the picture and see exactly what the part it was his job to build must look like when it was completed. After that it was easy. With the pattern and picture in front of him, he was able to turn out a perfect job.

Coincident with every operation there is an inspection. The watchful eyes of Goodyear Aircraft inspectors check every part after every operation, and sharp eyed Navy men provide a double check. Ten per cent of the man hours required to build a flight deck are devoted to inspection.

Somewhere far at sea the crew of a PB2Y3 goes calmly about the business of flying this giant sky ship confident in the quality of the boat they fly. They know the Navy inspectors will tolerate nothing less than perfection. They know their big weapons of war will do the job. Every part has been tested for hardness and strength, measured for shape, engineered to do the job and built to the same exactitudes which characterize a fine watch, When the flight deck reaches the mating jig, it is ready to begin its final journey. Moving slowly along the completed production line, the roofs, the instruments, and the controls are installed and tested.

Flying boats can't look for a hangar when it starts to rain. They must fly ahead in tropical storms and torrential rain. At one step on the final production line, the flight decks are subjected to a thorough soaking. Water from a thousand sprays leaps at the big metal ship, and inside inspectors go over every inch of the interior. If one drop of water penetrates, the big stream-lined cabin is rejected until the leak can be stopped.

After the huge flight deck has passed its water test it moves rapidly down the finish production line. The entire inside of the cabin is insulated to shield the crew against the extremes of heat and cold. Instrument panels which have been assembled and wired in the sub-assemblies of the electrical shop are installed in sections. Seats and work tables for the crew are fastened in place. Before the workers at Goodyear are through with the job, virtually every bit of equipment, every control and convenience which will help the crew operate the big patrol boat is installed, tested, and ready for use.

Beneath the fluorescent lights, there are enough people working sixteen hours a day to populate a fair sized city. And there is a spirit of community effort not often attained for a civic venture. The girl who operates the gigantic press capable of exerting a force of seven million pounds knows that she has a tool which is hitting Adolf Hitler where it hurts. She is proud of her job.

There is a labor management committee. Employees and employer are combining their brains and their skill to triumph over a common enemy.

Accidents mean wasted man power and wasted man power means a loss in production. In 1942, the workers at Goodyear established the enviable record of having only fifteen lost time accidents.

There is a completely equipped hospital in the plant. The health of the workers reflects in production, and Goodyear is well ahead of schedule.

Here is this busy city of eager workers where speed is paramount, where only the best is good enough, the nation's scrap campaign takes on new significance. Every tiny bit of metal is salvaged. One department is dedicated to the recovery of material which in more casual times might be waste. Even the slivers of aluminum are swept up and saved.

In this city of victory there is a complete machine shop where tools and jigs of any size and description can be made. A carpenter shop where the workers' scaffolds and platforms are built; a plasterer shop, where forms are made for the foundry.

To the east of the present plant, workmen are finishing a two story brick office building. In the new structure, there will be a complete restaurant, capable of feeding the thousands on each shift.

To transport and house this army of workers at Goodyear has been a major problem. Long before gasoline rationing, Goodyear employees formed riding clubs and every car that travels between the plant and Phoenix carries a full load.

More than two hundred houses under the defense housing program, have been built near the plant and an additional two hundred are planned for immediate construction.

What will happen to all this when the war is won? The same advantage which dictated the establishment of the plant at Litchfield will still prevail. Arizona's mild climate is ideal for industrial operations. The Central Arizona Light and Power Company, who has built a reserve of power and were able to supply all the electricity needed for the operations of the plant machines, will still have this power availUnable does not lend itself to any existing means of transportation.

Mr. Litchfield and H. W. Hudson, vice-president of the Goodyear Aircraft Corporation, have expressed the hope that production may be expanded and continued when peace time comes.

But right now there is a war on. The people at Goodyear are devoted to winning that war, from the president to the office boy. Time enough to worry about peace time when peace is won.

In the general office there is a significant sign which says: You can't kill a Jap by talking him to death. The children of victory believe what that sign says.(Continued from Page Twenty-five)

Chino Valley

Graphic Society (London) and in 1938 was elevated to a Fellow of the Society, F.R.P.S., the highest recognition in the world to be obtained by pictorialists.

During the past twelve years Garrett's prints have been hung in salons around the world including in addition in all of the outstanding shows in the United States, those in England, Belgium, Switzerland, France, Australia, Uruguay, and Japan. Too, his prints are included in the permanent collections of many leading museums. Great numbers have been reproduced in leading photograhic journals. He is listed as one of the best one hundred pictorial-ists in America by the Royal Photograhpic Society, and actual rating places him very high in this group.

In subject matter he has made a specialty of Northern Arizona landscapes and snow being noted for his studies of aspen and the Grand Canyon. However, Chino Valley is his choice out-of-doors studio and some of his most pleasing studies are of this area and are pas-toral and meditative in character. To me he is the Parrish of the lens and his studies radiate a poetry in pictures.

Garrett is a Quaker. He was born with a Quaker "birth right" which means simply that he comes from a Quaker heritage and is conditioned by a Quaker culture and outlook. He has that Quaker quality of mysticism, and is a sure portrayer of the profound mystical qualities as is that great President Emeritus of Haverford College, Rufus Jones. It is this mystical and meditative quality of the subject matter of his studies portrayed by a soul seeing of pictures produced by the skills and techniques of good photography that characterizes his works.

Chino Valley is admirably suited to his pursuit. The result is the charming and meaningful studies, technically nearing perfection and subjectively reflected and God portraying. The life philosophy of Norman Rhoads Garrett selects his subject matter and his technique registers the accuracy of lines and composition. Finally, we find these pictorial studies that satisfy the eye, the mind, and the heart.

In Chino Valley where beauty lingers, Garrett has found the natural setting for his work. He likes it because there is peace, beauty, and habitation. And this Parrish of the lens has captured the beauty and by his skills gives it to an appreciative public. Life needs to capture robust beauty and for good living the beauty and peace must linger in the hours of receding day to bring joy to habitation. Copyright, 1943, by Charles Franklin Parker.