ST. DAVID

St. David ON THE SAN PEDRO PHOTOGRAPHS BY WESTERN WAYS

Lt. Philemon C. Merrill, as a member of the Mormon battalion during the Mexican war, wearily helped blaze a wagon trail through the Southwest in 1846.

Little did he dream that he would return to the “Land of the Fighting Bulls.” But 29 years later he received a “call” to return to the San Pedro River valley of Southern Arizona. It was as leader of seven Mormon families from Salt Lake City, to establish a new agricultural community in 1877.

One thing Lt. Merrill remembered very well about the area. It was here that the Mormon battalion fired its only shots during the long trek from Council Bluffs, Iowa to San Pedro, California.

The shots were fired in self-defense-against hundreds of charging wild bulls. They were probably longhorns.

The Mormons were victors in the battle that lasted from early morning and continued until noon. Reports of casualties on both sides vary.

Sgt. Daniel Tyler, a member of the battalion and author of its history, tells the story of their only engagement on the long march.

“The animals, congregated on the line of our route, on hearing the rumblings of our approaching wagons, were startled, and some ran off in afright. Others, however, to gratify their curiosity, perhaps, marched toward us. Their terribly beautiful forms and majestic appearance were quite impressive. . . .

“The roar of musketry was heard from one end of the line to the other. One or two pack-mules were killed. The endgates of one or two wagons were stove in, and the sick, who were riding in them, were of course, frightened. Some of the men climbed upon the wheels of the wagons and poured a deadly fire into the enemy's ranks Some of them threw themselves down and allowed the beasts to run over them; others fired and dodged behind mesquite brush to re-load their guns, while the beasts kept them dodging to keep out of the way. Others, still, climbed up in small trees.” Sgt. Taylor says a dozen or more men were wounded, some seriously; estimates of the number of the enemy vanquished varies from 60 to 89 killed outright before they suddenly retreated and were seen no more.

wounded, some seriously; estimates of the number of the enemy vanquished varies from 60 to 89 killed outright before they suddenly retreated and were seen no more.

There are those who say nothing exciting has happened in the area that became St. David since this battle with the wild bulls. And its staunchest supporters like it for its peaceful quiet, and are mighty proud to report that while it is an agricultural community, its chief product is children. St. David is an unincorporated town with a population, including nearby Apache Camp, of between 800 and 900 people. Roughly half of them belong to the Latter Day Saints church, the only church in the vicinity. There are few businesses in the town, and no shopping district. There are no tourist accommodations, and perhaps never will be. A lot of cross-country travel goes through St. David, since it is on U.S. Highway 80, "The Broadway of America," just before this highway joins Highway 86, about 50 miles slightly southeast of Tucson. But there's no reason for travelers to stop in St. Davidalthough it's a delightful place to spend the winter, if you can find a house. Every house is occupied, however, with the few vacancies being gobbled up by Ft. Huachuca personnel.

The community is essentially one of homes, and agriculture, and its founders planned it that way. John K. McRae, at 85, still lives in St. David with four generations of his descendants. He was one of the original company that settled the town in 1877. The group from Salt Lake City split up in Arizona, with many of them settling in the Salt River Valley. Seven families moved on to the San Pedro River, between Benson and Tombstone. Their first project was to construct an L-shaped fort for protection against Indians-and against possible mob violence by other settlers who were opposed to the Mormon religion. Each family had a room in the fort, and food and equipment were on a communal basis.

The San Pedro Valley of those early days was a vastly different place from what it is today. Old-timers remember the San Pedro as a swift-flowing, narrow stream, well-stocked with salmon trout. There was plenty of deer, antelope and other wild game. Tall grass grew in swampy areas near the river-tall enough to be baled for hay. The swampy area, where the first town was started three miles southwest of its present location, was also a first-rate mosquito breeding place.

In 1884 there was an outbreak of malaria, and nearly everyone was stricken. The settlers became so discouraged they wanted to pack up and head for Salt Lake City. When the home church heard of the epidemic they dispatched Elder Snow to St. David, to lend the settlers encouragement.

Elder Snow prophesied the dampness and illness would disappear, and good health would return to the community. He urged the settlers not to give up.

Elder Snow's prophesy came true, in dramatic fashion. On May 3, 1887, an earthquake changed the face of the earth near St. David. Many houses and buildings were destroyed-and St. David was no longer a swamp area. New sources of water opened up; the settlers dug artesian wells, the first ever developed in Arizona. John McRae and his brother dug the first well. Artesian ponds, surSurrounded by tall trees, produce a surprising appearance to the traveler as he comes upon them suddenly, after crossing miles of rugged desert country. St. David is a real oasis.

The earthquake not only rid St. David of the mosquitos and provided it with artesian water. It changed landmarks in much of Arizona, and is credited with being the reason for so many "lost mines," including the Lost Dutchman in the Superstition Mountains near Phoenix.

The little community was one of the earliest established towns in the Territory of Arizona. It was named for a Mormon apostle, David W. Patton. He was killed by a mob in Missouri during intense opposition to the new religion.

Religion and agriculture have been the keynotes of its residents. A peaceful people, the Mormons had little trouble with the Apaches, even during the days when Geronimo terrorized the area. Residents of St. David feared the wild ones of boomtown Tombstone more than they did the Indians.

But they capitalized on the famed silver strikes in their neighboring "Town Too Tough To Die," although they cared little about prospecting. They hauled supplies for the miners, worked in the lumber mills. They timbered in the Huachaca Mountains, and they used to say the whole forest from the Huachucas went underground, to keep the silver mines from caving in at Tombstone. Ed Schieffelin, founder of Tombstone, was a regular visitor in the little Mormon community. He was always welcome for a meal and a night's lodging, and swore by "those home cooked vittles" served by the women of the town.

Men of the community have worked for wages, as well as worked the land, almost from the beginning. Today many of them are employed at Apache Power Company. The plant is about three miles south of town, on the west side of the San Pedro River.

Called Apache Camp, the plant has around 200 workers, many of them residents of St. David. It produces nitroglycerine, dynamite and related products, and is said to be one of the country's largest TNT manufacturers.

Home gardens provide most residents with fresh vegetables and fruit for their tables and for canning. Rabbits and cattle are raised, and there are two small wholesale dairies. Barrow Poultry Farm, operated by Dick Barrow, turns out from 1,000 to 1,500 fryers a week when it is in full operation.

And if you think this quiet little community, nestled at 3,595 feet and surrounded by mountains on all sidesand Whetstones to the west, Dragoons to the east, the Huachucas to the south, and the Winchesters to the northeast, is a place where "nothing ever happens," you should follow Marguerite N. Jennings around for a couple of days.

Mrs. Jennings and her husband moved to St. David ten years ago, and bought a place. She knew the town well, since she was born on a ranch a few miles west of Benson, and attended Benson schools. She took her bachelor's degree at Arizona State College, Tempe, and worked on a master's at Northwestern University. After a stint on a west coast magazine, she resigned during the war to become a navy welder first class.

In 1949 she and her husband started the San Pedro Natural Gas Service. It shoved out wood and butane, and serves the people with natural gas. They later expanded their gas service to nearby McNeal where they serve irrigation farmers and households.

They are co-owners of the business. Jennings handles all outdoor work such as meter reading, installations, repairs. Mrs. Jennings is business manager, handling all billing and bookwork.

This wasn't enough to keep her busy, so three years ago she started a weekly newspaper, called the Valley Sun. It now has a paid circulation of nearly a thousand, and a heavy newsstand sale. In three years it has won four awards in statewide Arizona Newspaper Association contests-second best small weekly in the state in 1953 and again in 1954, first in community service in 1954-the only newspaper to win two awards. Mrs. Jennings sells and writes all her own advertising and news, does her own photography, billing and bookkeeping for the paper. She's also correspondent for Associated Press and the Arizona Daily Star, and turns out some free lance writing, often illustrated with her own photographs.

Mrs. Jennings, a blonde, is about as big as a bar of soap. She has a business and editorial office in Benson, but has little time to sit at a desk there. Most of her daytime hours are spent in her second office, a weatherbeaten little blue Studebaker that sees a lot of miles. Her third office is where she puts in the night shift-her home in St. David.

"That is where I do most of my writing," Mrs. Jennings says, "generally after my four kids have gone to bed."

Her oldest child is 11, her youngest just past three. She started the paper when the baby was 11 months old. She has a baby sitter three days a week, handles the youngsters herself otherwise. Three are now in schooland St. David has an excellent school system.

In addition to the paper and the gas company, Mrs. Jennings belongs to and is active in the Benson Art League, Southeastern Society of History and Sciences and the Benson Chamber of Commerce. And early in December she was one of five judges (three were men) of the Benson Rodeo Parade.

That, perhaps, was the day she should have stood in bed. Instead, she proved beyond all doubt that the "Wild Old West" isn't dead, as far as St. David is concernedbut it sure has changed.

An unidentified 250-pound male didn't like the way the judges named the winners of the parade. Apparently he took particular exception to the way Mrs. Jennings voted.

On the front page of the Valley Sun of December 9, the following boldface box appeared: Attention: The heavy-weight male from Pomerene (a small town near St. David) who threatened to "beat the hell out of me.

Said threat was made before the justice of the peace and two other witnesses, but not in my presence, in the Benson Chamber of Commerce building at about noon Saturday, December 4.

If said heavy-weight will meet me at 10 a.m. Wednesday, December 15, in front of that building, I will be glad to let him see if he can do it.

Signed, Marguerite N. Jennings Editor and Publisher, Valley Sun The following day the paper carried a reply to a wire from Judge Frank Thomas, in which the judge asked for "outcome of bloody encounter 10 a.m. Wednesday."

Mrs. Jennings reported that although she waited for her 250-pound opponent for an hour, he failed to appear. She also reported on much intriguing advice given her on how to beat the stuffin' out of him.

Mrs. Jennings confessed she hesitated to expose her ignorance of the way of fighting men by asking questions. But in spite of the proffered advice, she was bothered by wondering what would stop her opponent from whaling the tar out of her while she followed the advice: 1) pulling his hair with one hand; 2) gouging him in the eye with the other; 3) kicking him in the shins with one foot and 4) landing a haymaker on him with the other hand.

She also underwent considerable free instruction in judo holds while she awaited the fatal hour.

After she won the fight by default, which she admitted was no fun, she confessed that the advice with the greatest appeal was given by her three-year-old son. In most matter of fact tones, he said, "Mother, just take a knife and skin him."

While it is true that a challenge of a woman by a man to a "fight to the finish" is a turnabout on traditions of the Old West, at least the accounts of it prove one thing.

When you say "nothing ever happens" in a sleepy little Arizona agricultural town like St. David, brother, you'd better smile, and mean the smile.

Because there seems to be no doubt about it. Residents of St. David are geared to the production of babies -and of laughter.