FLIGHT INTO NAVAJO LAND

Hlight into Navajo Land...

Flying a small airplane over the vast wilderness of the Navajo reservation had a two-fold purpose; to see something of the amazing beauty of this region and its people -not as a tourist, and from points inaccessible to tourists -thereby gaining some small knowledge of the life of the Navajos; and to combine with this brief visit a firsthand picture of the little known but most extraordinary operation of a Civil Air Patrol unit that extends its emergency radio network service on twenty-four hour duty across the reservation.

Few know that this operation, less than four years old, with only a few pilots and fewer planes, has been the direct means of saving lives of sick or injured Navajos and others, of spotting lost airplanes, stranded cars, reducing forest fire menace, and of innumerable less dramatic acts.

Few know that Arizona has the only Civil Air Patrol Unit on any Indian reservation in the country. Quite apart from search and rescue missions, it is a well established group with its seven separate squadrons in remote and isolated sections of Navajoland, yet well coordinated and regularly training an increasing number of cadets. Several potential Indian pilots are now working for their wings.

Statistics on the area of this reservation-the largest in the country-offer astronomical figures: twenty-five thousand square miles-sixteen million acres-They look well on paper but do not give the least idea of its actual immensity. As for accessibility, the only railroad merely touches its southern border; the few fair-weather roads wind interminably, mile after mile, across the desert, and any air routes are purely coincidental, going high over and bound elsewhere, the nearest being at points along the railroad.

There are no airports in the Navajo country, so any pilot, planning a flight into or across this reservation, must have some fairly accurate knowledge of the region and must do considerable checking on possible air-strips, the availability of gas and oil, and a more than casual understanding of the rugged and treacherous air conditions. The terrain averages about six thousand feet elevation and some strips are even higher. This altitude, combined with drafts, thermals and gusty winds, should suggest extreme caution, plus traveling with a light load.

Some of these air-strips are excellent in good weather, but not for many days after heavy rains. Some are laid out in open desert, others edged with a rim of towering rocks or are bordered with excessively tall pines.

Certainly no strips have regular, if any, fuel service, supplies or hangar space. While fuel may be obtained in some instances, from the trading post which sometimes maintains the strip, the post itself is apt to be a few miles distant.

A light maneuverable airplane with a fast climb is

Landing field at Window Rock PHOTOGRAPHY BY NAURICE KOONCE BY BEATRICE EDGERLY

A light maneuverable airplane with a fast climb is best for such a jaunt. The four place Tri-Pacer I rented (from Hudgin's Air Service) in Tucson was ideal. With me were Palen Hudgin, as emergency pilot, and Naurice Koonce, photographer, plus the lightest possible equipment which consisted mainly of cameras, film and tripod. From Tucson I flew-two and a half hours over the mountains in the early morning-direct to Gallup, where I landed at 9:45 a.m. at the comfortably big airport, which is operated by Lt. Col. James N. Bickel, commander of the Navajo Group of the CAP. Jim was away but had left word of my coming with his wife, Christy, and she helped me in getting in touch with some of the squadron leaders at far points on the reservation. After refueling I flew across the Puerco Valley to Window Rock, coming down fifteen minutes later over the red sandstone palisades-the Haystacks standing out like sentinels. I landed on the longer of the two good runways (excellent in dry weather) and taxied up to the closed hangar. There I found the boxed emergency phone and Dick Clark answered from the administrative headquarters of the reservation at Window Rock, a few miles distant. Captain Richard C. Clark is executive and communications officer of the Navajo CAP Squadron as well as chief of the Bureau of Trading of the Indian Service. Dick drove over to give me the necessary information and advice concerning air-strips at far points on the reservation. Several, not designated on my sectional chart, We located and marked at their approximate positions. And he was able to tell me something of the condition of a few that were charted; some were relatively good, some definitely bad. Others we would have to check for ourselves. He also put through official calls for me to some of the localities where I might be expected to arrive -and when. I took off for Rough Rock, about seventy miles directly northwest, and climbed out over the endless, green velvet of tall pines, topping the Defiance plateau, and headed east of the lonely rock turret of the ranger's station to detour by way of the fabulous Canyon de Chelly. From the air the three canyons, Monument Canyon, de Chelly and del Muerto, curve like red dragons, writhing through the carpet of green pines. Coming low over the canyons their configuration develops; sandstone, red and gold, in brilliant light or black shadow, a thousand feet or more in depth, where the Rio de Chelly angles placidly or vanishes in sandy flats among the rarely glimpsed hogans and fields and the yellow-green of cottonwoods in early autumn. Hardly a sign of the Indians or their flocks and horses. Banking at low angles for Koonce to get some pictures, I let Palen take over for these maneuvers, so had a chance to search the chasm and find, here and there, some of the ancient cliff-dwellings. At more than one hundred-twenty miles per hour, it is impossible to observe details, but the magnitude of the canyon shows itself and history unfolds. The shelter of past civilizations and the hereditary stronghold of the Navajos, this was the scene of their entrapment and sur-render when they were taken on the Long Walk into four years of exile. This was the haven they returned three hundred weary miles to claim.

I picked up my course to Rough Rock over Chinle, lying comfortably along the Chinle River, with pleasant farms and evidence of mines, and up the valley, passing the small settlement, appropriately titled "Many Farms." Then straight for the flat tops of the Black Mesa, over wide desert wastes, a miniature and elusive road curving across and around dry washes and eventually heading in around Yale Point to indicate the few houses and the trading post of Rough Rock, snug against the cliffs; and to the small air-strip on the flat land in the valley. We circled over Greene's trading post and came on around to land on the neat runway. Even while landing, a truck appeared along the winding road and Bill Greene joined us. He has a hangar built for his Clipper, which he keeps in fairly constant use for business and pleasure.

Bill is an active member of the CAP, Canyon de Chelly Squadron. I met two other CAP members at this remote spot, both learning to fly in whatever time they can find. One is Bill Greene's assistant, Sprague Graham, the other John V. Cline. John Cline met us on our way to the trading post and took us to see the Friend's mission he was building, high on the rocks, overlooking the valley, the only mission within twenty-two miles and probably the only Quaker mission on the reservation.

The sun was delightfully warm at Greene's Rough Rock trading post, against the red rocks in the canyon. And there was much activity. It was lambing season, and sheep were coming through from all over the reservation on the long drive, ninety or more miles on to the railroad at Chambers for shipment. A number of Navajos were keeping house at the few hogans and other transient quarters available for those who had to spend the night.

It was piñon nut season there, too, the first time in six years that there had been any piñon nuts, and Indians from far away had come to the trading post to go in Bill Greene's truck to the gathering ground. A wonderful season for the Navajos, who love the gathering and are glad to have this bonanza in trade.

Within the post Indians were looking over the displays. Everything was there... saddles, blankets, quilts, bright colored cloth, canned goods, lanterns, rat-traps. There was time only for a glimpse of the beautiful water hole, back at the head of the canyon, fed by underground springs. Flocks of sheep are brought there to drink, as in years past, and the beauty of the place is unassailed by time and change.

We took off for Kayenta, edging the Black Mesa, following the small thread of road appearing and disappearing across the limitless desert.

Kayenta, a small center with trading posts, school and a few homes, rests against a theater-set of rocks. The air-strip is conspicuous on the desert flats. We had been told to buzz the trading post and some one would come out and pick us up. Three times we circled and came down to land and waited hopefully. A late lunch was one of our objectives. After waiting for a reasonable length of time we accepted the thought that no one was free to take time out, and so took off and headed north for Monument Valley.

Agathla Peak stood out like a prehistoric giant and I flew into the valley of the monuments with some realization of its past. Here the Navajo chief Hoskinini had led his family and many others who had escaped exile as far as the San Juan River and beyond. Here refugees had joined them and set up new regions for a later peace.

The incredible monuments moved toward and under us and we flew across the low ridges and on over the Utah border and came in to land at Harry Goulding's friendly strip against the flaming cliffs.

We were driven up to the trading post by Mrs. Goulding's sister. But there was time only for a brief rest. We were fascinated with the trading post. The Indians' silver belts, necklaces, rings, turquoise and even their rare strings of coral hung heavily above the counter. Brought in for trade, all such pieces are government stamped and dated. They are kept a year as pawn before they may be sold.

Back in the Tri-Pacer, we circled out around the valley for some pictures and again I asked Palen to take over for the low, steep-banked maneuvers so I had a chance to see the incredible red monuments against the encroachment of the drifting sanddunes.

We had hoped to reach some other air-strips in that section, but were advised that Navajo Mountain and Oljato were washed out by rains. Others would delay our return to Window Rock beyond the hour needed for a good picture. I headed back then, directly, making the hundred miles and more in good air and in perfect time.

At Chinle, Oljato, Kayenta and Monument Valley were some of the radio network CAP stations; and at trading posts, Indian schools and missions, connected with other posts at Window Rock, Gallup, Keams Canyon and Winslow.

Next morning I came down on the field at Window Rock again for more instructions. We were taken to the administrative headquarters, a long, low sand-stone build-ing, combined location of the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the Navajo Tribal Council. Here are offices for edu-cation, health, economic development, forestry, land, soil and moisture conservation, Bureau of Trading, and many more, all appearing to be wonderfully efficient and progressive. Stopping in at Dick Clark's communications office, we passed a door within which some Indian chil-dren were singing softly before a candle-lit altar.

We were permitted to see the inside of the Tribal Council Chamber, built along the traditional hogan lines, but with huge pine beams and a modern mural by a Navajo interpreting their history. Here the seventy-four members of the Council meet and conduct the affairs of the tribe. This is their capitol-at the base of the vermil-lion cliffs-beneath the Window.

Pine Springs air-strip was the first objective of that day, about twenty-five miles southwest of Window Rock. This is the field built three years ago by Capt. Samuel Day III, commander of the Navajo CAP Squadron. A combat pilot of World War II, Sammy loved to fly. He was in charge of the Pine Springs trading post at that time and he kept assuring himself and his neighbors that some day an air-strip in that part of the country would be the means of saving lives. He was not encouraged, but nevertheless his neighbors came over to help him cut down trees and clear an air-strip, rock by rock. If they had never believed in miracles before, they must have on that last day when, the strip being completed, and as they were putting in a few more hours, leveling and cleaning up, and an airplane landed there. Not only landed but picked up a small Indian boy who had been rushed by truck to the field to meet it, strangling with an orange seed in his windpipe. It was Colonel Jim Bickel, then at Ft. Defiance, who had received word of the emergency, made speedy plans to cope with it and flew over to land on Sammy's Pine Springs air-strip. He took little Ander-son Six and his mother to the hospital at Ft. Defiance, where the seed was removed, and returned them safely. This was the first of many emergency flights-mercy missions for the newly organized Navajo Group of the CAP.

some day an air-strip in that part of the country would be the means of saving lives. He was not encouraged, but nevertheless his neighbors came over to help him cut down trees and clear an air-strip, rock by rock. If they had never believed in miracles before, they must have on that last day when, the strip being completed, and as they were putting in a few more hours, leveling and cleaning up, and an airplane landed there. Not only landed but picked up a small Indian boy who had been rushed by truck to the field to meet it, strangling with an orange seed in his windpipe. It was Colonel Jim Bickel, then at Ft. Defiance, who had received word of the emergency, made speedy plans to cope with it and flew over to land on Sammy's Pine Springs air-strip. He took little Anderson Six and his mother to the hospital at Ft. Defiance, where the seed was removed, and returned them safely. This was the first of many emergency flights-mercy missions for the newly organized Navajo Group of the CAP.

Not so very many airplanes have been on that field since. About seven thousand feet high, edged on all sides by the pine forest and bordered by by rocks, a cautious approach is indicated, with good air conditions and a light load. Coming in over the trees you can stop rolling just before you reach the rocky edge. But it is a good dry-weather strip.

The present owner of the Pine Springs trading post, Leonard Hatch, answered our circling promptly, having been notified of our arrival, and had his truck, boy and dog on the field to meet us and took us in to the post. This is a tall and massive, stone building with small, high cell-like windows and a low, wide door. Possibly it was an outpost in the early days of the reservation. The green paint on the woodwork outside gave it a bright, rejuvenated look.

Hovering around were Indians, young and old. About thirty-five families come in to this post from their hogans for supplies and mail. They have few sheep here and piñon nuts are scarce, so they trade in the blankets and silverwork they make. Mr. Hatch has a workroom with an acetylene torch for their use. Others in more distant hogans use blow torches for their silver, replacing the charcoal fires of early years. He took us to a hogan in the pines where Mary Emma Tsosie was persuaded tocome out and show us her silver-work and pose for a picture, accompanied by her small daughter, and three small sons, solemnly carrying diminutive loads of firewood.

From Pine Springs we headed west, flying about seventy miles to Polacca on the Hopi reservation. We were expected at one o'clock by 'Captain' Father Clem, whose mission is at Keams Canyon, and who operates a key radio station of the CAP network, and is captain of two CAP squadrons, the Keams Canyon Squadron and the new (Hopi) Oraibi Squadron. There is no air-strip at Keams Canyon, so he arranged with Captain Clark by phone from Window Rock to meet us at the Polacca field, seventeen miles distant. We could not accept his invitation to drive back to his mission for coffee or even to go in to Polacca. There were no tie-downs on the field and as a gusty wind was rising, it was unsafe to leave the ship. He talked with us about his work, his radio and the many future plans for CAP development on the reservation. He has a ham radio set in his station wagon, built in and equipped to reach as far as Wing Headquarters in Tucson. He is emergency coordinator for the reservation network.

A Franciscan missionary, Father Clem has been with the Navajos and Hopis for more than thirty years. He is otherwise named-but seldom known as-Father Clementin Wottle.

From Polacca we flew direct to Winslow, fifty miles south, where we picked up a belated lunch. At Winslow, the northeastern Group of the CAP has an active Squadron, commanded by Lt. Col. Glenn N. Olmstead. Two of the Arizona Wing radio stations are here, linked with the reservation network.

The two hundred and ten mile flight from Winslow to Tucson was a good flight in smooth air. The mountains lay ruggedly magnificent below us in the late afternoon light. We flew over the Magollon Plateau, past Lookout Mountain, crossing the Salt River, with Roosevelt Lake shimmering to the side. The smoke from the Miami and Globe smelters closed over the valley and I edged past Signal Peak, picked up Black Mountain and, beyond it, the Catalinas and Tucson. We came down on the big Municipal field just as the sun dropped over the mountains, an hour and forty-five minutes from Winslow.

JOHN CLUM-AGENT UNAFRAID . . . Continued from page twelve

From the Indian camp, as the effect of the association of the soldiers with the Indians is very demoralizing.

One of the first policies which Clum enacted at San Carlos was a bone-dry rule which forbade any whiskey to be sold, made or consumed on the reservation. To his amazed horror, he found that prior to his coming to San Carlos, an Indian trader there had kept whiskey on sale at his store, despite federal statutes strictly forbidding the sale of intoxicants. Under Clum's prohibition rule, this liquor store was quickly removed but he found to his dismay that white bootleggers had nothing on the wily Apaches in the production of home brew.

With the help of his loyal Indian police, Clum staged several surprise raids on Apache stills, and cracked down with a firm hand on his Indian moonshiners. Recording his policy in his second annual report (September 1, 1875), Clum wrote: The manufacture and use of "tis-win" has ever been the curse and bane of these Indians . . . Whenever Indians are allowed to use intoxicating liquor, disorder and death are sure consequences. To prevent these were among my earliest cases at San Carlos. It was accounted a most difficult task, but with care, vigilance and swift judgment were precluded the necessity of punishment, and drunkenness or acts of insubordination and disorder were of rare occurrence, and my Indians were controlled with much more ease and safety than they would otherwise have been. In this little temperance crusade the Indian police acted a most able and worthy part.

Clum continued to rely heavily on the San Carlos Indian police to enforce prohibition and keep order on the reservation. The most serious offenses likely to be encountered were assaults, stock-trespassing, bootlegging, domestic affrays and other petty misdemeanors that afflict most communities. But the Apache police were conscientious in their duty, making arrests no matter how prominent or influential the offenders. They also served well as propagandists when orders came from Washington for Clum to increase the population of the reservation. At this time there were eight or nine Apache tribes scattered over almost 700 miles of Arizona territory . . . tribes which apparently had no more common purpose than warring with the intruding white settlers.

Realizing that the Apaches valued their right of free choice above life itself, Clum understood the seriousness of the government's orders to move certain of these tribes to San Carlos. "How can I possibly convince these Indians of the wisdom of accepting the government's demand?" worried Clum. Here again his Apache police untangled a knotty problem, for when the San Carlos Indians met at powwows with various of the tribes, the Indian police mingled freely with the strangers and did some high-powered advertising of Clum's agency policies. They succeeded in convincing their fellow Apaches of Clum's honesty and friendship to Indians, and managed to persuade them to give up their lands and move to San Carlos to live.

Within the next year, 1400 Indians from the Rio Verde agency added the clutter of their wikiups to the San Carlos reservation, and close to two hundred more Apaches were gathered in from the White Mountain region. The jurisdiction and responsibilities of the San Carlos Indian police now covered an area nearly as large as the state of Connecticut, the residence of almost 5,000 Apaches. With careful attention toward keeping smooth diplomatic relations among the tribes, Clum and his originally chosen "Big Four" Apache police enlarged the police force to twenty-five trusted Indians. Armed with needle guns and fixed ammunition, the new recruits were placed under the command of an able Indian guide, Clay Beauford, who had recently joined the retinue at San Carlos. But the Apaches themselves were keeping order on the reservation, for each day they realized gratefully the benefit of the self-government they enjoyed. The Indians were most anxious that these conditions should continue and were eager to help in suppressing any act of insubordination and to cooperate in the capture of the occasional desperado who rebelled against the community.

Industrious Apaches, Clum inspired, raised hay for army post.

Meanwhile the youthful agent was actively working to convince the Department of the Interior that the presence of the military was now an unnecessary aspect of reservation life. Clum's administration and avowed intention to have the troops removed were the focus of ridicule and contempt by military authorities and less confident citizenry, and his suggestions met with a raised eyebrow at the sedate Indian bureau. But Clum went ahead with his plans. With Chief of Police Beauford, he pondered ways of running the agency more effectively.

"I think that free handouts from the government are a bad thing, don't you, Clay?"

"You're right if they're continued," agreed Beauford. "It gets so it robs the Apaches of their initiative to make their own livin' I reckon that rations should only be given out until the Indians are in a position to be self-supporting."

Clum's forehead creased with thought-wrinkles. "I wonder how this would work supposing we have checks printed in several amounts say, 504, 25 and 122. Instead of letting the Apaches get set on the 'gimme plan' we can let them do the work around the reservation and get paid for it. There's irrigation ditches that need digging, farming to be done "Easy does it, John! But I think you've got something there." Beauford tugged at his mustache. "We could allow Indian workers 50 a day in agency script for all kinds of labor, like making adobes, working on buildings, digging ditches and bringing in hay "And we could reduce building costs to a minimum and help my Indians to become independent!" shouted Clum excitedly. "The Indians could just as well have the money that usually goes outside the reservation under the contract system. And we can buy their hay and barley for use here at the agency. If we do, it will be the first time they've received any money for their crops."

Beauford smiled in agreement. "What's more," he added, "the Indians can exchange their agency checks for goods at the post. We can beat those sky-high prices at the Trader's store easily, and both the government and the Indians will be getting full measure for a change."

"I've been thinking, Clay," continued Clum. "There's a lot of fine grazing land around the agency, and my Indians are natural-born stock raisers. Besides, it might bring better financial returns than agriculture A merry twinkle danced in Beauford's eyes. "All right, John out with it! What have you got up your sleeve now?"

"I've sent in a purchase order for 4,200 sheep, 200 cows and goats, and 200 burros!" recounted the young agent. "We're already in business! I reckon this'll keep my Indians too busy to think up mischief!"

Agency affairs did proceed with so much success that Clum managed to gain the confidence of the once doubtful Department of the Interior. The end of outbreaks and hostilities at San Carlos, and the productiveness of Clum's Apaches, meant that troops were not necessary to reservation life. On October 9, 1875, the troops were ordered away from San Carlos and the military camp was abandoned. The Apaches knew real satisfaction when the familiar bugle calls were silenced and the constant oppression from the military was at an end.

Three months passed without further incident. Early one spring morning in the middle of April, Clum rode away from San Carlos on horseback to do some business in Tucson, a ride of 125 miles. He found southern Arizona in terror over the uprising of the Chiricahua

Apaches in the Dragoon Mountains. As soon as Clum arrived in Tucson, Governor Safford sent for him.

"Folks around Tucson are saying that you knew all about the Chiricahuas being on the warpath, Clum," hedged the governor when the youthful agent arrived for the conference. "They think you left the agency at this time because you were scared."

"What have I to be scared about, Governor?" Clum was plainly perplexed.

"Well, the general opinion is that you're afraid your San Carlos Indians will join the Chiricahuas."

"Governor, I know hardly anything about the Chiricahuas," explained Clum patiently. "And I certainly haven't any idea why they're on the rampage now. But this I know. my Indians won't be among them, now or ever. That I can promise you, sir."

"That's a pretty big guarantee, Clum. You'd better not leave yourself so wide open. You've done a lot up there at San Carlos, but you're not big enough to prevent 5,000 Apaches from going raiding if they decide to." The governor preened his mustache lovingly. "No, sir you're not that big!"

Clum left territorial headquarters in a rush of firm resolve. Mounting his scarcely rested horse, Clum rode swiftly back back over the trail to San Carlos. When he arrived at the agency, grimy and exhausted from his steady threeday push, Clum wasted no time in calling his Indians together for a big smoke. After cigarettes were rolled, and the air was pungent with acrid smoke, Clum told the Apaches of his Tucson visit.

"While I was gone from you, I learned that some bad Chiricahuas have been raiding, attacking stages, killing settlers, burning ranches and stealing cattle. The whites are afraid that my San Carlos Apaches will join the bad Indians on the warpath." An angry murmur swept through the assembled Apaches. Clum raised his voice and continued, "I told the White Chief at Tucson that my Indians are good Apaches. I told him also that whites need have no fear from the San Carlos Indians."

As he spoke, the excited conferences of twos and threes burst into noisy agitation. Chiefs of the various tribes at the agency held anxious conversationis, talking to each other and to Clum at the same time. Suddenly, Es-kim-in-zin, chief of the Arivaipa Apaches, jumped to his feet and held up his hand for silence. "Nantan-betunnykahyeh, it is well what you say to White Chief at Tucson. Apaches at San Carlos are peaceful, happy. We are good Indians. We will not go with the Chiricahuas. If it is wish of Nantan-betunnykahyeh, we will go on warpath against bad Apaches. Yoshete we are ready, young chief."

Other chiefs nodded their heads in agreement as Es-kim-in-zin spoke. "Enju," they mumbled softly. "Enju . . . it is well." Hearing their approval, the young agent called couriers and sent them hurriedly into the mountains to tell other Apaches of the Chiricahua uprising, and to spread word of the council's decision to fight the recalcitrant Indians. Within six hours, 250 Apaches had ridden into Agency headquarters to swell the growing army. When the air was motionless, dust puffs on the trails in every direction told of other Apaches riding in to join Clum and his cohorts.With this encouraging response, Clum hastened to notify Governor Safford of their readiness. "Tell the governor," he instructed his Apache messenger, "that I stand ready with five hundred dependable Apache warriors to join civil or military authorities in tracking down and capturing the Chiricahua renegades."

Clum laughed as he and Beauford watched the Indian messenger disappear down the trail to Tucson on a fleet Apache pony. "Guess that'll put a bug in the 'White Chief's' ear! What's more, if military and civilian folks are nervous about the fight, my Apaches can take care of those Chiricahuas without any help!"

Meanwhile, the editor of the Arizona Citizen (Tucson) put in a plug for Clum's Apaches, in a colorful editorial in the April 5, 1876 edition: Agent John Clum, who has lately been in town on a short visit, rode out Wednesday afternoon to go to San Carlos traveling by way of the trail. He didn't go there from any fear of trouble with his Indians as whatever might happen, he had perfect reliance in Mr. Sweeney whom he left in charge. But he wished to be on hand in even the least possible emergency, and if allowed, he would like to lead a few hundred of his tried and trusted Indians against the Chiricahua fiends. The public opinion seems to be that if Agent Clum were just permitted to take 200 of the San Carlos Apaches, and furnished with their small needs, they would in a short time effectively clean the Chiricahua dish and leave nothing but the bones-with the aid of the coyotes.

At San Carlos, feverish preparations were under way. Scouts were drilled, trail rations were handed out, and all was in readiness for the go-ahead signal. Within a week after receiving orders from Washington, Clum was again in Tucson with an able escort of fifty-four Arivaipa and Coyotero braves from his fighting forces. They camped within the Spanish-styled walls of the Old Pueblo, waiting for the arrival of the cavalry. Soon afterward, plans got under way, and with cavalry troopers stationed at strategic points, Clum and his band of Indian police and scouts made their way cautiously to the mountain refuges of the Chiricahuas. deep into inaccessible places where the rebels had been safe from dislodgement by the inept military.The more faithful Chiricahuas put up little resistance to the approach of Clum and his warriors. Impressed by the endorsement of the Indian police, and cajoled by Clum's promise of fair and equal treatment for all who would return with him, the majority of the Chiricahuas accepted all of Clum's demands. Surrendering their weapons, the Chiricahuas left their reservation and quietly started the trip to San Carlos, under the control of Clum's police force which was originally composed of Arivaipas, formerly the age-old enemies of the Chiricahua Apaches.

Now that the Chiricahua reservation was abandoned, Geronimo and his band who had fled to Sonora to escape the removal to San Carlos found it difficult to slip back and forth across the border. The Hot Springs agency became their new base, where they received rations from naive government officials. This unwary support enabled the renegades to continue their frequent raids throughout southwestern New Mexico. Campaign after campaign was waged by the military to intercept and punish these vicious marauders but the clever Geronimo always evaded capture. People of Arizona and New Mexico territories expressed acute dissatisfaction over the inadequate protection provided them by the troopers.

these vicious marauders but the clever Geronimo always evaded capture. People of Arizona and New Mexico territories expressed acute dissatisfaction over the inadequate protection provided them by the troopers.

"Don't know why they bother sendin' 'em out at all!" growled a southern Arizona rancher as he discussed the Apache problem at the corner saloon. "Sure beats me how he does it, but thet Geronimo slithers out of their traps jest like a greased pig. If the military don't catch hold of that slippery critter purty soon, we'll all be murdered in our beds!"

Despite the efforts of the military and citizenry, Geronimo and his companions Ponce, Gordo, Francisco and others continued to stage a reign of terror on both sides of the Mexican border. Since New Mexico was in another military department, General August V. Kautz, head of the Arizona department, had referred the matter to the red tape of the War Department. The settlers' urgency for action was finally crystallized in the Arizona territorial legislature on February 8, 1877, when $10,000 was appropriated for enlisting the aid of sixty militiamen to protect the settlers from hostile Indians. Wasting no time, Governor Safford sent Clum a request for sixty of his San Carlos Apaches to serve as territorial guards.

This transfer of a company of San Carlos Indian police to Governor Safford for service as territorial militia is a unique chapter in the history of the western frontier. Agent John Clum was understandably proud of the success of his venture, as he delivered his Apache police to service of the Territory as Arizona's first National Guard unit. Meanwhile, back at San Carlos orders for the capture of Geronimo and his band came for Clum from Washington in the following telegram: Agent Clum: If practicable, take Indian police and arrest renegade Indians at Southern Apache agency; seize stolen stock in their possession; restore the property to rightful owners, and remove the renegades to San Carlos and hold them in confinement for murder and robbery. Call on military for aid if needed.

Smith, Commissioner Clum hurriedly relayed the wire to Kautz, adding simply, "I start for New Mexico tomorrow." The company of sixty Indian police from Tucson were ordered on the march and Clum hastened to meet them at Silver City. Kautz referred Clum's message to General Hatch, the head of the New Mexico military department, who, Recognizing the importance of the expedition, ordered nine troops of cavalry into the field. The Indian police and the troops missed connection, and Clum and his loyal Indians went ahead and accomplished unaided the first capture of Geronimo and his renegades at the Hot Springs reservation. Without bloodshed, the renegades were shackled and taken 400 miles back to San Carlos, with the cavalry escort trailing far behind Clum's march to the reservation.

Not long afterward, the distinguished performance of the San Carlos Indian police in the capture of Geronimo and his band was the inspiration for the national system. On May 27, 1878, Congress passed an act authorizing the formation of the United States Indian Police Force. Urging the installation of this national Indian police force on all the large reservations, Acting Commissioner of Indian Affairs E. M. Marble pointed out in his annual report for 1880, "In Arizona, the San Carlos police for six years past have rendered invaluable service as scouts and guards."

No longer an experiment, the Indian police system took hold rapidly around the country and in just two short years later, was in full-swing operation at 40 agencies, with a staff of 84 commissioned officers and 746 non-coms and privates.

The capture of Geronimo (Geronimo later jumped the reservation and eventually surrendered to the U. S. Cavalry) by Clum and his Indian police, and the young agent's joyful ignoring of the military aid offered in the venture, climaxed the turbulent clashes between the civil and military authorities at San Carlos. Clum's program had excluded the army, and much enmity had developed toward this "one administrator" regime among the paleface politicians in Washington. When their scheming machinations once again reinstated military authority at San Carlos, despite Clum's protests, he resigned from his post as Apache agent and turned to private life as a lawyer, frontier journalist and civic leader. Other sensational episodes were to engrave his name on the annals of history of early Arizona territory experiences not with his Indians but with his fellow whites, among whom he was a warm and steadying influence.

Yet, with his lesser known work among the Apaches, John Phillip Clum had well served the Territory and the nation by laying the foundation of the structure of selfgovernment by the American Indians.

YOURS SINCERELY

FRIEND IN CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL: Here is a well earned tribute to add to your roster. We were making our pilgrimage to Canterbury Cathedral. The verger, who was conducting a sight-seeing party through, noticed the big Stetson in my husband's hand. In an aside, he asked me if it was what is called a ten-gallon hat. We got into conversation when the tour was over and when I told him we were from Arizona he really came alive.Here is the tribute he paid your magazine: "I have seen the ARIZONA HIGHWAYS magazine and wish we could do such color photography here at the Cathedral. Think what it would mean on this alone." This was the cards I had just bought of the stained glass windows. He went on, "ARIZONA HIGHWAYS magazine is the best I have ever seen and I want to see your state most of all. New York is but another London, I have been told, only built tall. It is Arizona I long to see."

Of course, he was wrong about London being another New York, but right about Arizona and your magazine.

Mrs. C. M. Morgan Bushkill, Pennsylvania A small world, but what wonderful people are in it. And a warm "cheerio" to our friend at Canterbury Cathedral.

RAMBLING ALONG ON "60": Just finished reading "Rambling Along on "60" (May issue) and what a feeling of nostalgia it gave me. We, too, my brother and I, have cruised along on that "ribbon of flowing miles," in Arizona, of course. Just a little over a year ago we returned home, part ways, from Mesa to Show Low, not realizing its historic development, but, of course, appreciating so very much that grand scenery through the Salt River Canyonand now your fine colored pictures bring back to us a most vivid recollection as well as so much we did not realize then. That was our fifth trip in ten years to Arizona.

Edgar I. Syverud Dagmar, Montana "60" is a grand highway, both scenic and historical.

UNDERSTANDING BETWEEN PEOPLES: From my friend, who gets your magazine from the Soroptimists Club in Flagstaff, I borrowed a few copies to use in the geography lessons in my school. I have read a lot of American magazines but I must say ARIZONA HIGHWAYS is by far the best of all. From the other publications the foreigner gets the impression that the American people like only big cars, pinup girls, baseball and comic strips. Through your magazine I learned a lot about the other America: about people who are nature lovers, hikers, horsemen, artists and craftsmen. I am enchanted by the superb photographs in your journal and by the wonderful landscapes of your state. The only publication I know which may be compared with yours is the German "Merian," a monthly with beautiful pictures of German towns and landscapes.

My school children liked especially the pictures of real Indians and cowboys, their customs and daily life, not the stuff we see in the imported Westerners. So I think that your magazine is a contribution to a better understanding between our peoples.

Eberhard Stillger Espa uber Rutzbach, Germany America is quite a place: big cars, pinup girls, baseball and comic strips (all wonderful, too). We are glad Mr. Stillger and his students enjoy our version of our America (which we think is also wonderful).

"ARIZONA: A GUIDE TO THE GRAND CANYON STATE": ... Although my wife and I live in the beautiful state of Colorado, it is always with keen enjoyment that we receive ARIZONA HIGHWAYS each month and that we envision ourselves going to some of the beautiful places you show in your pictures.

We've often heard Sears Roebuck (or Montgomery Ward) catalogue referred to as the "Wish Book."

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS is ours. We very much enjoyed the article on U. S. Highway 60 in the May issue, and note that at a later date you will cover Highway 70 in more detail. We hope there will be other articles on other highways through the state showing trips and side trips one may hope to take. This leads me to say that when we have had visits to Arizona, and they have been most en joyable, we have been helped greatly by constant reference to the Arizona State Guide published as a WPA Writer's Project back in 1940. We think it would be a fine thing if this book could be brought up to date and reprinted occasionally perhaps every 10 or 15 years, as highways change tremendously in such periods. We were only able to trace Highway 60 a short distance in our copy of this book. Of course, the practicability of doing this would be determined by someone's estimate as to the probable sales of such revised editions.

Also, this may not be within the legitimate interests of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. Nevertheless, we note that while this book was copyrighted and sponsored by the Arizona State Teachers College, the Arizona WPA Writer's Project and the Arizona State Highway Commission, we thought you might if you thought it advisable-start a discussion concerning this idea with those most concerned.

We have these American Guide Series books for the Four Corners states, as well as a few others, and refer to them frequently. Again, I can't tell you how much we enjoy ARIZONA HIGHWAYS.

G. G. White Lyons, Colorado We have been remiss in keeping up with "books in the sun." "Arizona, a Guide to the Grand Canyon State," the valuable guide book to which Mr. White refers, has been revised and brought up to date this year by Hastings House, 41 East 50th Street, New York 22, New York. It is available at all bookstores or by writing to the publisher. The price is $6.00. It is probably the best all-purpose guide book for the traveler ever published on Arizona. Additional road articles on main Arizona highways and byways will appear herein from time to time in the future.

OPPOSITE PAGE AIR VIEWS-UPPER. The farms around Blythe, Calif. form a green checkerboard along the Colorado. Right of the river is the Arizona desert, brown and bare in the sun. BELOW. Old Camelback, ageless and silent, welcomes the air traveller to the Salt River Valley. South of the mountains is one of the Valley's choice residential areas. Homes and more homes are being built in the patterned orange groves.

NATURE'S BROOM

Twilight Sweeps desert Light under the rug Of night and shakes a dust Of stars.

GENE SPERRY

SUCCESS STORY, AMERICAN STYLE

Concentration, Consecration, Determination, Dedication, Inspiration, Imagination, Penetration, Perspiration, a rich pa, or a rich-pa-in-law.

An Ακνικ

BEAUTY

A house may be old and shabby, Sadly in need of repair, But still be a thing of beauty Because love and faith are there.

Too often we look for beauty Only in form and face, Forgetting it lies within us Reflected through charm and grace.

E. J. RITTER, JR.

NOT SURE

I'm not sure Of the face of towns, of the look of pueblos, Of brown walls and blue smoke, Twisted of pinon.

I'm not (even) sure That mountains, riveted to the breastwork Of the earth... leaning on the sky... Will stand, unchanged, forever.

I'm not sure Of methods; that Rebecca (Two Goats) will always Bend at the far well, dipping her bowls Full of water.

I'm only sure That this wide wind, lofting through bent cliffs, Searching beyond red walls, Will always find its singers.

REEVE SPENCER KELLEY

SINGING COMMERCIALS

The transient birds pause in flight, To broadcast 'mid the golden rod. Undaunted by approaching storm They sing commercials for God.

THELMA IRELAND

TOLD BY THE DESERT SAND

And still they cameI clutched their wagon wheels; I scorched their plodding heels; I caught the blinding desert glare And flung it through the burning air To rob their eyes of sight. I turned their days to night When wind-storms hurled me high; And where I found their bodies lie, I held the fleshless, whitened bones Until they turned to stonesBut still they came.

GEORGE L. KRESS