ASHFORK

CALVIN RICHARDSON HUBERT A. LOWMAN

graveyard. Every place that was permanent had to have one; it was an old, established custom!

And so they staked out a plot on a sunlit hillside northeast of the town. But it was six years before they had any use for it. And then, so the story goes, a stranger was killed by mistake! Even to this day, this stranger who was known here as Tom Kane, has an honored place in the cemetery.

Other fires took their toll of buildings in Ashfork throughout the years, but they were quickly replaced. But that first building is there yet, in the center of town on the main street, known as Lewis Avenue, after Tom Lewis who had faith in the future, and in himself. And there are other family names interwoven with the early settling of the town such as Bishop, Stone, Nichols, Goldtrap, Campbell, Dickerson, Shiveley, Kelly, Scanlon, Woods, Winter, Putney, Iler, Aso, Bauchard, Hume, as well as many, many more.

Many of the sons and daughters of these early pioneer families are still living here, for the population has been a very stable one. It stays around the 1000 mark, year in and year out.

Ranchers, sheepmen, railroad workers, and the stoneworkers mingle with the townspeople for they are for the most part old friends of long-standing. Ash Fork is a closely knit community that has never had time to waste in senseless feuds or quarrels. There was never a sheep and cattle war although the sheep men moved in many years ago when there was a drought that forced them out of California to seek new ranges. Some of the largest catGentlemen in this area today once owned large bands of sheep.

Instead of a boom, get-rich-quick town, Ashfork was settled by men and women who came and stayed because they had an abundance of courage and faith in themselves-not Lady Luck. They lived by hard work alone for there was never a mining boom of any kind. Even today there are no mines in the vicinity of Ashfork.

And still there is no water; it is hauled in by the railroad, now the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, in water cars from Puro, a small place south of Ashfork on the "Peavine," a distance of thirty-five miles. The water is then distributed by the Ashfork Water Company, Inc., a local concern.

As you drive west on U. S. 66, after leaving Williams it is eighteen miles to Ashfork. As soon as you leave the pines behind you come to the rim that drops almost abruptly away to the west. Pause here for a moment to take in the immensity of the land before you, miles and miles of lowlands, valleys and rolling hills that stretch on and on to the far-away horizon. A blue and purple mountain is there on the far western horizon; it is Picacho Mountain, and referred to by Ashfork citizens as "Pecatch."

There are large cattle ranches, the buildings and corrals hidden in the folds of the land. Each one is measured by the thousands of acres, not by the hundreds. There is the Goldtrap Ranch with its Quarter-Circle Open A brand, the Beacon Ranch with the B-Slash brand, the Double A Ranch, and the Double-O, as well as others.

Then there is the Ashfork Livestock Company with its Bar-Z-Bar brand on some twenty-five hundred cattle that roam 177,000 acres of grassland, and more under forest permits.

Frank and Gene Campbell, sons of a pioneer sheepman, Cole Campbell, own the Ash Fork Livestock Company which is really three ranches in one, and they are in the process of improving their white-faced Herefords with a French breed known as the Charolaise. This cross is resulting in heavier, more usable beef stock which they think will be an improvement in other ways as well. Frank Campbell, the active head of the company, will smile a little sadly when he explains this to you, and then remark grimly, "Pushbutton ranching-my Lord-a cowboy today wants to jump into a pickup or car if he has to go only fifteen or twenty miles!" But despite his dire predictions, the cowboy still has a lot of riding to do here, and guitar playing is for self-amusement only!

The main sources of income for the town is in its tourist trade, stone-quarrying, cattle, sheep, and the railroad. The Santa Fe still employs some seventy-five people for its Ashfork operations. Five helper crews stand by night and day to give the long, heavy trains a boost up the hills with extra engines. Although the Escalante Hotel and Harvey House is closed at this time, there are two other hotels in town to take care of those who want to spend the night here, as well as a number of nice motels and courts.

Many thousand acres, mostly to the north of Ashfork, are used each summer for grazing large bands of sheep. Manuel Aja and the Poquette family ship in about 150 carloads each spring, then return them to the lower valleys in the fall.

In spite of drought conditions in the past few years, Ashfork still ships out between two thousand and three thousand head of beef cattle in the fall. The herds are kept to a minimum with a wary eye out for possible overgrazing. Under excellent conditions there is enough grazBeing kept on the land at this time.

In very recent years another industry has been born in the vicinity of Ashfork, and it has good possibilities of great expansion. The Coconino sandstone in the hills and lowlands surrounding the town is one of the finest stones for building veneer purposes as well as for walks, gardens, patios, fireplaces, and many other uses. Due to its composition, color, and fine cleavage, Coconino sandstone has found a nation-wide market.

There are three main processing plants and distributing concerns in Ashfork; Western States Stone Co., Dunbar Stone Co., and Grand Canyon Quarries, Inc. These three will handle some three hundred carloads of processed stone in the course of a busy season. It is advertised d nationally nationally under various trade names, with "Kaibab" and "Canyon" stone being the most widely used.

Out in the quarry field itself there are about 100 private or independent companies taking the rock out of the ground and sending it in to the processers. It is estimated that this industry is bringing into Ashfork nearly $350,000 a year.

Ashfork is proud of its own private industry, of its stone, and its livestock, but has never taken measures to lure the tourist trade. Still unincorporated, it has a volunteer fire department, and most of its legal affairs are handled out of the county seat, Yavapai County, at Prescott. Nominally the board of supervisors of the county are responsible for its government, although they leave the town's affairs mostly to its responsible citizens.

Judge J. J. Slamon holds court in his Western Variety Store, or just about any place that is convenient. A long-time resident of Ashfork, Judge Slamon feels that narrow-minded practices in handing out fines and sentences as in some small towns, is not only a grave miscarriage of justice, but that it is a lazy, bigoted way. He believes that the big majority of the human race is a fine lot of people, and that "high fines and high-falutin' lectures" to the average law infractor does little to reduce such things.

For the most part the town is there on both sides of the main street as you drive through. The largest residence section is along the hillside to the south. And on the hill is the large brick structure that houses the Ashfork school system under the supervision of Frank Glotfelty. It is a grade school and high school combined, with nearly 200 enrolled. The building was first constructed over thirty years ago but since remodelled into an up-to-date institution.

There are three main churches located in Ashfork and as one old-timer remarked, "Being born here and raised here like we have been, you sorta had to have God along with you every day-not just on Sunday!"

The branch line of the Santa Fe that runs from Ashfork to Prescott and on to Phoenix has long been called the "Peavine" due to its many curves on its way southward. A whole legend of stories have been built up through the years by its many passengers. One of the best is that of the native who was describing it to a stranger. Said he, "If you can look out of the windows of the coach, on both sides of the car, and you see a railroad track both places, then my friend, you are on the Peavine! It may take you all day to get to Phoenix but you can see the country two or three times on one trip."

Built originally by private construction, the head engineers were supposedly told to "get to Prescott as economically as possible. Company finances were in no shape for tearing down hills and mountains; it was cheaper to lay track around these encumberances than to build a straight road-bed.

In the early days, Sam Bass ran a stage-line from Ashfork to the Grand Canyon, and it was usually a hazardous, adventure-filled trip of several days duration. For years there was talk of building a "good road" especially after the automobile put in its appearance, but little was ever done about it.

Fourteen miles southwest of Ashfork there is a large and long cave called Cathedral Cave, but no one is sure just how extensive it is. Quite a few people have gone down into it and some have explored it for many hundreds of feet, but there has never been any movement by local people to exploit this natural wonder for commercial profit.

down into it and some have explored it for many hundreds of feet, but there has never been any movement by local people to exploit this natural wonder for commercial profit.

A friendly service station attendant will sell you gas and service your car, and there are places to eat and to stay overnight. Most of those you meet will have lived in Ashfork most of their lives; many of them were born right in the town. Nearly all of them will know much about the early history of the town.

No, the people in Ashfork haven't got to the point yet where they spin yarns purely for the benefit of gullible strangers. Anyone who has lived here very long knows too many true ones to bother about making anything up.

When they tell you about Margaret Foley and Michael, or the three Murray brothers, or about a dozen others, listen carefully. Big-hearted, generous Margaret Foley should be given a large, life-sized statue right on the main thoroughfare of Ashfork. There are so many accounts of the fine things she did in her lifetime that to single out any one seems hardly fair. But perhaps most remembered was her devotion to the children during the diphtheria epidemic of 1892. Day and night she nursed the sick and the dying until it seemed that she was made of iron and not flesh and blood. And near the end when she was all but exhausted, five of her children were stricken, and death for them was but a matter of a few, heart-breaking hours. Yes, there should be a life-sized statue to Margaret Foley, for her big heart and the selfless soul of the woman who never had time to do things for herself-always for others. But then there were others, too, who should have a place in any western hall of fame, for they, too, gave themselves unselfishly for the good of the community in the early days when people were so few and survival a matter of courage that brooked no faintness of heart.

For these and for all of those who came after them, Ash Fork was their town of destiny.