So the Seasons Change

Out of the north and across the wide expanse comes autumn, the gentle, welcome intruder, dispelling the last caress of summer, carefree truant in the carefree land. The leaves have lost their bright green, turning to brown, orange, red, yellow, touched by the season's enchantment. So gradual and casual is the change in dress in these proud high mountain dwellers that it seems as if they hardly change at all yet one day the change is complete and the leaves fall dry and brown and crisp to the ground. They dance before the wind that autumn brings from the north and in their dance and music is summer's farewell. They cover the ground with their warmth and protection knowing of the snows that will surely come. They came from the earth and they return to the earth, so completing their life's span and a life well-spent. Underfoot there is no longer the feel of the soft moss, the pine needle cushion, the moist, black soil, but only the crunch and crackle of the crisp, brown leaves, covering the ground.

Almost yesterday there was summer and the song of the summer birds gladdened the mountainside. Today their song is gone. The birds have followed summer for there are other places to brighten. Then, too, autumn has its own songs to sing on the mountainside when the seasons change. Almost in the middle of a melody were the birds interrupted. What signs have they read, what impulses have come to them, telling them that now is the time for their southern flight? The glade in the mountains is filled with their music. Then comes a hush, and the message comes to them in the deep, uncertain silence. Are they chagrined that their song is interrupted? Do they shout their resentment to the wise old mountainside? They pause a moment in their indecision and then they are gone, packing their melodies back in their music boxes to follow summer southward. They'll come again in the spring as merry as ever but surely if they ever pause to wonder, great must be their wonderment, too, as the seasons change.

The grasshoppers, those utterly irresponsible loafers in their green pantaloons, yellow vests and fancy straw hats, have failed to return to their familiar haunts today. They have taken their jesting, their frolicking and their lazy loafing elsewhere. No longer will their wings glisten in the sunlight and their chatter and gossip enliven the rich grass. Autumn and brown leaves may please the poet's fancy but these longlegged fellows have gone to seek warmer climes. You have never heard of grasshoppers wearing mufflers and earpads. No! Autumn and the winter following autumn are for better upholstered chaps, and so they too play their part in the drama of creation when the seasons change.

It is the same with all summer's creatures when autumn comes. The bees, no longer finding nectar in the dry, tired flowers, have returned to their dwellings for a rest, long and well deserved, their summer's toil being both rich and fruitful. Those plodding dullards, the ants, have retired to their mysterious, subterranean castles, to sit and smoke their pipes through the longer nights that autumn brings, wondering not and caring not for the world above that knew their incessant labors through summer's dreamy months for them no time for dreaming. Their larders are filled to bursting. The ground is warm. When you are frugal, industrious with an eye to the future, even though a little dull, you have no particular fears for what the new seasons may bring.

The sparkle of butterfly wings no longer adds to the color pattern of the mountainside for these timid beings are the most gentle of all summer's creatures. They have long since hurried away from the harshness that is to come. Only a confused traveler among them will remain to flutter with a colored jacket so bright against the leaves that have lost their green.

But when summer goes packing a new beauty comes to the mountainside, the eternal loveliness of autumn. You should seek autumn in the mountains for you find it so seldom in city streets. You should seek autumn in the aspen groves, following the vagrant road through the mountains, a magic path through pure gold. The sturdy oak, the cottonwood and the sycamore are autumn's heralds. You find autumn in the winds in the mountains that have lost that languid, sleepy quality of summer. There is a chill and a bite in the air, stimulating and invigorating. Summer gets to be such a bore. Autumn comes along and whips the heaviness and drowsiness out of your eyes and puts a new spring to your feet. Autumn is the smell of burning leaves, the frost on the grass, the field ready for the harvest. Autumn is the apples in the basket, so red and ripe. Autumn is the chill of morning, the shorter days and the longer nights. Autumn reveals itself in the clouds, no longer billowy loiterers but air travelers in a hurry.

Autumn is a new world. The Sublime Stagehand has shifted the scenery. The seasons change. It is time to think long thoughts of the high mountains and the aspen groves and the leaves brown and dry and crisp hurrying along the ground before the wind from the north that Autumn brings. R.C.

school for bombers

Davis-Monthan field near Tucson, the B-24 Liberator Bomber base, is closer to the battle fields of the world than you would think after looking at a map. Bombing crews who have learned their tasks and lessons well at Davis-Monthan are part of the inexorable and destructive forces of the United States of America, striking against the enemy over all the seven seas and the lands that surround them. D-M crews and their Liberators are putting in good licks for their alma mater in the South Pacific, India, Burma, China and over Europe. The part that the bomber is playing in this war is common knowledge to all residents of this war-torn planet. Gen. Douglas MacArthur, who speaks with authority in such matters, contends that the principal mission of all our armed forces in his theater of war is to move the line of bombing bases closer and closer to Japan. He and his boys are doing just that. They are experts in the modern arts of war that are used on the road to victory. The road begins in such training bases as Davis-Monthan.

If you ever wonder why Uncle Sam's airmen are conducting themselves with such distinction and success in this war, a visit to Davis-Monthan would be both interesting and educational for you. Here is another of those war bases that seemed to rise by magic from the desert. The Army Air Forces have a knack of getting things done and done well. Here you see teamwork performed with scientific exaction. D-M means teamwork between the bombing crew and the Liberator, a superb war instrument. D-M means teamwork between each member of the crew, between the crew and the ground forces, between each cadet, soldier, officer and instructor, and between civilian workers and the Army.

Davis-Monthan represents a pretty smooth running organization. More than ever you realize that in the end victory will be ours because you can't beat such inspired soldiers using the tools of war that only a nation like America can make so well and so quickly. More than ever before we are glad we are on the side of Uncle Sam, that rather remarkable colossus striding the earth with lightning in his fists, a Bible in his pocket, good things and kindness for the deserving and pure poison for his foes. Hurrah for Mr. Whiskers... R. C.

viva, sonora! viva, rodriguez!

Speaking for and by the citizens of Arizona, ARIZONA HIGHWAYS offers congratulations to the citizens of the state of Sonora, Mexico, our southern neighbor, for their good fortune in securing General Abelardo L. Rodríguez as their new governor.

Under Rodríguez, the next six years are going to be mighty important years for Sonora, and we in Arizona will share in the prosperity that those years will bring to our friends below the border. Every branch of commercial life in Sonora will benefit by the impetus and encouragement given to it by the new governor. And not a peso is spent in Sonora that does not in some way stimulate business along our border and among our border towns.

One of the most important things that Governor Rodriguez will do for Sonora is to hurry the modernization and paving of the main highway from Nogales to Guaymas. This highway has been kicked around a lot and the time has now come to complete it.

It is important as a military highway, but more important, it will be a vital link in the highway system of the state of Arizona. That highway will make Guaymas, that picturesque fishing port on the Gulf of Mexico, an integral part of our travel world, and after the war Guaymas will be one more superior place that Arizona can offer to travel America. Guaymas and scenic Sonora will attract thousands of motorists to and through our state and after the war the tourist dollar will be bigger than ever.

We know, too, that Sonora will set to work right away to complete the highway from Guaymas to the SonoraSinaloa border. That will be a vital link in the Nogales-Guadalajara highway, opening the vast west coast of Mexico to the American traveler and making Mazatlán and Guadalajara, if you please, part of Arizona's travel attractions. We should appreciate these things now and get ready to take advantage of what they offer when the war is over and the wheels of travel America roll on to the western horizons. To be perfectly mercenary about it, the administration that Governor Rodríguez brings to Sonora will ultimately mean millions of dollars annually to Arizona. Tucson and Nogales will become two of America's most important travel centers for a foreign country. Sonora will profit and so will Arizona.

For another reason we have a right to be proud of Sonora's new governor. He spent his youth in Nogales, ArizonaSonora, was a crackerjack baseball player for the Nogales town team, speaks English as well as he speaks Spanish, and is thoroughly friendly too, and cognizant of the American view point and the American way of life. America has always had a good friend in Abelardo L. Rodríguez, and he has always been close to Arizona. That is the reason why we say: "Viva, Sonora!" "Viva, Rodríguez!"... R.C.

we hope to drop you a card from tokyo

With this issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, your editor for the past six years closes his long and happy contact with you. The next issue that will call at your home will be edited by other and more competent hands. My name now ceases to be a part of the editorial masthead of these pages. It becomes instead a name in front of a long number, signifying a buck private in one of Uncle Sam's Army Units. Naturally I am (please pardon that "I" stuff but this has to be a purely personal communication to you, our friendly readers) sorry to leave this most interesting work in the world, but proud that maybe my nickel's worth can be of help to my country along the way to victory.

Induction is one of the orderly processes of this Democracy. The time comes and the individual responds. Democracy is after all the glorification of the individual, but it places great and exacting responsibility on him. In a Democracy the individual must think for himself, act for himself, and stand on his own two feet. When he ceases to do so Democracy has gone out the window. So as an individual I must do my part as a soldier, as I have tried to as a citizen, to serve my country in order to deserve the privilege of living in it and of being a part of it. (This "I" stuff really sounds silly, doesn't it?) In leaving ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, I wish to express again my appreciation for the cooperation I have received from so many writers, artists and photographers whose work has made this magazine what it is. I wish to thank, too, the members of the Arizona Highway Commission and the Arizona Highway Department executives, for whom I have worked, for their constant encouragement in increasing the width and scope of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. Also, we express again our gratefulness to the engravers and printers with whom it has been our pleasure to work and whose skill and patience have always somehow brought order out of editorial madness.

And lastly, I wish to thank you for your support of our magazine, for your interest in it and for your many, many letters of praise, both from Arizonans and people elsewhere, which have been so inspirational and stimulating. It has been a mighty great pleasure to have been with you and here's wishing you miles of happiness and good weather always. Some day we hope to drop you a card from Tokyo, and until then "So long!" and "Hasta la Vista!"

a little bit of everything

This is the September-October issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, two issues wrapped in what we think is one attractive cover. We are not trying to short change our customers, but in order to come within our paper quota, greatly reduced as you know, we are combining two issues this month. When a magazine is ordered to reduce paper several things can be done. Cutting the pages each month is one answer to the edict and that would be undesirable. We could limit our circulation but we want an ever-increasing circle of readers to which to preach the gospel of Arizona and our west; so that, too, would be undesirable. So in order to catch up on our tardy schedule and please the people who watch over paper consumption we are taking this method of staying within our allotment. We hope you'll understand.

Next issue, the November issue, will be the Christmas issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. We are setting the month ahead so that we can have time to take care of the thousands of Christmas subscriptions that come in and in order to have time to get our Christmas greetings in the mails well before Christmas. In that issue we will present quite the most ambitious color portrait we have ever presented of this fair land of ours and we don't think you'll be disappointed. We might point out that the sooner you get in your Christmas subscriptions the better service we can give. We would also like to point out, with pardonable pride, that a year's subscription to Arizona Highways is not only a fine Christmas gift (the price is still $1.00) but we think a considerate one.

And may we say, now, that our December issue, which should be our Christmas issue but which will not be since we are devoting the Yuletide motif to our November issue, is going to be dedicated to Tucson, Arizona, and what a book full that will be.

And now returning to more pressing considerations may we explain our cover. The clippings, of course, tell the story of the B-24 Liberator bomber. This particular make of bomber is getting quite a lot of good licks in for our side in this war but our principal concern with it in these pages is that it is the specific article of study by the flyers at Davis-Monthan field near Tucson. Davis-Monthan is one of America's most important bomber training bases and you should know more about it. Bernice Cosulich takes you on a personally conducted tour of D-M base this issue. And also we have a presentation of the murals that Pvt. Phil Brinkman has painted in the main recreation room of Davis-Monthan. In this air-minded age. we should all know more about the history of flight and these murals give you a general education in a few swift looks. These are two articles we think you'll enjoy reading.

And while we are in the air, so to speak, may we call your attention to two articles on the road-runner, that strange bird of the west, done for us by Earl Jackson and by Dr. E. R. Tinkham. Our old friend Earl Jackson, formerly custodian of Montezuma National Monument, now connected with the Southwestern National Monuments headquarters at Santa Fe, in our opinion is one of the West's outstanding naturalist. Dr. Tinkham adopted a road-runner, a chap by the name of Chickee, and gives us some interesting data on the life and times of his good sidekick. We want all of our readers in New Mexico to pay especial attention to these articles because the road-runner is the state bird of New Mexico and a pretty grand fellow.

Then turning the pages, we want to call your attention to a few pages devoted to Ben Lilly, the mountain man. This vignette of Ben Lilly was done for us by J. Frank Dobie, one of the west's most interesting people; so interesting, in fact, that not many issues ago the Saturday Evening Post devoted a large portion of its pages to a story about him. Mr. Dobie, head of the English Department of the University of Texas, sailed from the good old U.S.A. in late September to teach for one year at Cambridge University in England. Mr. Dobie is not only a great westerner but a great American and we are as proud to have him with us as Cambridge is lucky in having him for a year. Sometime Mr. Dobie will do for us a story on cowboy songs and when he does we'll really have something. He has promised us and so we'll promise you.

As our contribution to international thought and intercontinental relations we present Sonora's new governor, General Abelardo L. Rodríguez. He's a fine person, one of Mexico's outstanding sons, and one of America's closest friends in high circles in the southern Republic. He has a quite unostentatious way of working miracles and just watch him work for the next six years in Sonora. Who is Rodríguez, do you ask? Well, he would be a former president like Hoover, a financier like Vanderbilt, and a general like Marshall all rolled up into one Mexican counterpart. Which means, he's quite a person.

There are some other things of interest in these pages which can well speak for themselves. In the meantime we hope you'll like this issue representing two months and we hope you'll be on hand for our Yultide issue coming up in November. Thanks for dropping in and spending a spell and we'll see you again soon. . R. C. SEPTEMBER OCTOBER, 1943

Arizona Highways

the friendly journal of life and travel in the old west Published monthly by the Arizona Highway Department in the interest of good roads and devoted to the story of our people and our land. All communications should be addressed to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, Arizona Highway Department, Phoenix, Arizona. Subscription rates: One Dollar per year, Ten Cents per copy. Printed in the U. S. A. "Entered as second-class matter Nov. 5, 1941, at the post office at Phoenix, Arizona, under the Act of March 3, 1879."