SPENAZUMA

Tucked away in a remote section of southeastern Arizona, in a setting of indescribable beauty, sleep the remains of the Spenazuma, one of the greatest mining frauds ever perpetrated on the American people. Here, almost in the shadow of the Blackrock, a huge, isolated mass of rock abruptly rising over a thousand feet into the sky, was enacted the main phase of a swindle which the master crook, Ponzi, or Reavis, the Red Baron of Arizona, could well be proud. It was the very grandeur of the location that convinced Dr. Richard C. Flower-the title self bestowedthat here was the ideal site for his coup d'etat on the American pursestrings. His townsite would be the sweetsinging Blackrock stream which could quickly, like a chameleon, change to a roaring, rampaging river. His diggings-it mattered not exactly where-would capitalize on the wild beauty of the tree-topped Blackrock.

The entire area teemed with color. During the rainy season breathtaking waterfalls would cascade hundreds of feet down the sheer walls of the Blackrock. At its base javelinas roamed for acorns while far above the mighty eagle executed graceful patterns in the sky. In the crevices of the Blackrock was the winter lair of the bear and the hangout of the cattle-killing cougar. Once the very heart of Apacheria, the region was rich with legends of Indian battles, torture slayings and massacres. Only a few miles from Blackrock, in 1898, were found the remains of five men, whom, it was later ascertained, were killed in 1856. The gruesome find revealed that the leader of the party, Henry L. Dodge, son of General Henry Dodge of Wisconsin and a brother of General A. C. Dodge of Iowa, had been tied to a tree and burned to death.

One of the better known gunmen to find this locale to his liking was Billie Williams, whose holdout was only a few miles west of the Blackrock at the base of the sawtoothed Santa Teresa Mountains. The climate became a trifle warm for Billie in 1886 after ventilating John B. Collins, Ft. Thomas' leading merchant, with three bullet holes; so he evacuated to a more friendly field.

His successor to the holdout was Shorty Miller, who wandered into the region after leaving Silver City by request. Caught red-handed with a butchered beef in his home which the officers knew was not his, Shorty was plunked into jail to await trial and an eventual niche in the New Mexico state prison.

But Shorty had other plans and won his acquittal of the cattle stealing charge by simply maintaining he had a right to eat his own beef.

"What did you do with the hide?" demanded the prosecutor. "We'll prove by the hide the beef was not yours."

"I like biled hide and et that first," Shorty suavely explained. "Now you prove it wasn't my beef."

Released by the court, Shorty hurriedly left the old mining town to avoid being guest of honor at a necktie party which the ranchers decided to throw in his behalf.

The Spenazuma was born in 1898 when the nation's newspapers announced a southeastern portion of the San Carlos Indian Reservation, approximately four miles wide and fourteen miles long, and which included the Blackrock country, would be thrown open to the white man for exploitation. Considered worthless land when given to the Apaches for a reservation, the white man later coveted this land for the gold, silver and coal which it contained, and never rested until it was his very own. The ignorant Apache, argued the white man, would never benefit from this treasure chest of nature's, so he may as well.

The opening of the Strip was an event that will live long in the annals of Arizona mining history. At 9 o'clock sharp, November 19th, over eight hundred men, some poised on the edge of the Strip for days, commenced a wild rush for locations, somewhat reminiscent of the famed Oklahoma land grab of 1889. That no killings were recorded among these mineral-mad men was a wonder, because all were armed to the teeth and willing to fight for their share of the Indian booty.

In far away New York at his quackery on ThirtyFourth street, Dr. Flower read newspaper accounts of the Strip's opening with great interest. His nose for easy money smelled out the possibility that a bonanza may be waiting for him in that God-forsaken land called Arizona, if only he could play his cards correctly.

Newspapers and magazines had lately been exposing the nefarious practices of him and his ilk and legislation had been proposed which would mean death to his illicit patent medicine business. As the doctor mulled over these facts the name Arizona suddenly spelled out in gilt-edged letters and in the fertile receptacle of his mind brewed a concoction so potent that it was to affect persons throughout the entire country.

Now that the doctor had chartered his course, he acted quickly. Almost overnight his suite of offices were lavishly remodeled and refurnished as headquarters for a giant, ten million dollar corporation to be known as the Spenazuma Mining Company. On the office windows signs bearing the magic word, "Gold," displaced those of the grandiosely named Flower Medical Company. The odd name of Spenazuma was coined by the shady shyster engaged to draw up the articles of incorporation.

"What do you plan to call the company?" he inquired.

"Oh, any name which will make them spend the mazuma" answered Flower.

"That's it," seized the lawyer, "spend the mazuma, Spenazuma."

In this manner the name was born out of a bit of slang and inspiration.

Flower knew the value of the "big lie" before Germany's Goebels was born. Using superlatives that would have pleased a movie mogul, he let slip to reporters news of a fabulous mineral find in romantic Arizona which the newly organized Spenazuma Mining Company was preparing to develop.

The response to Flower's cunning was instant, with the gullible gobbling up great hunks of the impressive, gold-bordered certificates of stock bearing the magic name, Spenazuma. Wisely, for himself, Flower sold the certificates of stock at only $10 per share, par value, in order that the poor as well as the rich could contribute to his new project.

Flower's next step was to hasten to Arizona to locate his so far non-existent mine, the very magnitude of his scheme demanding at least a hole in the ground to be called Spenazuma. Arriving in Arizona, he left the main line Southern Pacific train at Bowie Station and boarded the Gila Valley Globe & Northern's "Gila Monster," whose wood-burning locomotive seemed to belch fire as the cars bumped and swayed their merry way to the end of the line, and not far from the Strip country.

Alighting from the train, Flower found himself in a town savage and colorful as the Apache chieftain for whom it was named, Geronimo. Bustling with saloons and bawdy houses, several blacksmith shops, a barber shop and two Chinese restaurants, the town came into being in 1895 as a forwarding center for the railway freight, by means of freighting teams and wagons, to the busy mining camp of Globe. President Garland of the Gila Valley Globe & Northern line had run his tracks to this point, the eastern edge of the San Carlos Reservation and there waited three long years before securing the necessary permission from the Apaches to run this line through their land. Their assent to the proposition was gained February 9, 1898, on a rocky mesa near San Carlos with only one Indian voting negatively. For the right-ofway the Indians received $8,000 cash and permission to ride the freight trains along the line free for a period of thirty years, but the real persuader was a dance and a huge feed of fat beef with all the trimmings given by Garland just previous to the voting.

Flower found the atmosphere of the little western town intriguing but tarried only long enough to secure the services of two oddly assorted Geronimo characters, Alkali Al and Bill Duncan to guide him to the Strip country. Not long after the men had turned their mounts towards the Blackrock, Flower had shrewdly surmised Alkali Al was a slinky individual capable of more than his regular occupation of cattle rustling, and that Bill Duncan possessed the attributes usually displayed by the movie cowboy heroes. Approaching the Blackrock, Flower was delighted

to learn from Duncan that the huge figure which pro-jected itself against the sky was ofttimes referred to by Apaches as Montezuma, a God who watched over their domain. Later, in the prospectus of the Spenazuma Mining Company, Flower capitalized on this myth, asserting Spenazuma was a son of Montezuma, and that he guarded the mineral wealth of that region. Probably had it not been for Duncan, Flower would have gone no further than the Blackrock country because he found what he was searching for, but being too clever to reveal his hand, proceeded on with his companions to make a thorough inspection of the Strip. This jaunt through the rich mineral section was not without fruit. however, as some of the ore specimens Flower collected eventually reached his New York offices and helped sell his spurious Spenazuma stock. The phoney doctor's next move was to acquire all claims in the immediate vicinity of the Blackrock, either buying the claims outright or bonding the owners. Afterthis deed was accomplished, Flower proved his genius for organization by combining surveyors, teamsters, carpenters and miners into quickly establishing make-believe mines and a mining camp under the eastern ramparts of the Blackrock. As the work neared completion, Flower imported a photographer to record his false-fronted activities. Soon these photos were to appear in a gold-bordered prospectus that was widely circulated throughout eastern and midwestern states. The tempo of Flower's stock selling activities quickened on his return to New York City. In an age that found advertising still in its diapers, Flower conducted a publicity campaign which would have done credit to modern cigarette companies. Whole and double pages of advertisements appeared in the leading newspapers throughout the eastern seaboard and the midwest, extolling the wonders of the fabulous Spenazuma. Another effective means of stock selling was through hired hench-

sycamores that grew along the creek, the crude wooden tables groaning with good things to eat prepared by Mrs. Colvin, the camp cook. Flower rightfully reasoned that full stomachs would lead to better humor and easier sales of stock.

The chips were down and Flower played his hand close to his vest. Taking his guests in tow, he led them to the mill site, showed them the newly completed foundation and machinery waiting to be installed. Next he had them peering into tunnels and down mine shafts where men busily worked. "Help yourself to the ore," he would offer. "Take home some samples."

Flower neglected to tell his guests that the profferred ore had been packed in from other mines.

When the coaches pulled out for Geronimo that evening, Flower knew he had sold a bill of goods. The fake hold-up, the blasts, his highly technical talk and the salted mines had not been in vain.

Back in Geronimo he wasted no time in pouring telegram after telegram to his eastern emissaries telling of his master stroke. Now everyone could buy Spenazuma stock with confidence knowing it had been investigated by prominent persons and found to be even richer than represented. The ex-doctor was certain he had hit the jackpot-that the full ten million dollar issue of stock would soon be sold.

And there is every reason to believe Flower's golden dream would have come true had it not been for George H. Smalley, a Tucson newspaper reporter. Let Smalley tell his own story: "Arizona had been the scene of many doubtful mining promotions, some bare-faced frauds, but none had equalled the Spenazuma in magnitude and boldness. Doctor Flower would have made his millions as he planned except for the vision of an Arizona pioneer. In 1897, two years before the Spenazuma Mining Company was organized, Bucky O'Neill saw the menace to mining through fraudulent operations. He suggested that a survey be made of the territory and publicity given to the mining industry, extolling honest effort to develop mineral resources and exposing fraud. Legitimate mining operations were threatened by the stigma which was fast gaining foothold and destroying confidence in Arizona as a mining center. He proposed a mining department in the Arizona Republican, then a small daily paper published in Phoenix. The plan was approved and I was assigned to the task of riding over the sparsely settled territory to write up the mining industry as I found it.

"In the spring of 1899 while enroute to the SanCarlos Strip to write articles describing the development there, I stopped at Geronimo and there I met Bill Duncan, who told me about the Spenazuma. We rode out to the camp together and looked things over. All of the bluster of a week before, when Doctor Flower entertained the easterners at the camp, was gone. There were a few men at work, but the superintendent was lounging in a hammock beneath a sycamore tree. We were informed that the property was not open to the inspection of strangers. At the store we bought some sardines and crackers and feasted sumptuously. The storekeeper, when I asked him to sell us some candles, looked us over critically and refused. They were kept in stock for the use of the miners, he said. Duncan winked at me and strolled over to the counter where he was still munching his lunch. "Talk to him, and I'll get them," he whispered. "Leisurely I went to the opposite counter where the storekeeper was standing and engaged him in conversation. Later when we left the store and mounted our horses, Duncan opened his shirt-front and displayed several candles. "So Bill Duncan stood guard while I entered the workings of the Spenazuma Mining Company. We visited four tunnels and three shafts, all of them representing but a few hundred feet of work, and none revealing ore of value. "But on the dumps there was rich ore which had not come out of the workings of the Spenazuma. Where did it come from? Duncan shook his head thoughtfully. "The framework of a building, its foundation the bare ground and the heaviest timbers but four by six inches, presented a ridiculous contrast to the massive structures legitimate mining companies use for housing ore crushers and concentrators. Work had been abandoned on the building, for it had served its purpose during the visit of the easterners.

Carlos Strip to write articles describing the development there, I stopped at Geronimo and there I met Bill Duncan, who told me about the Spenazuma. We rode out to the camp together and looked things over. All of the bluster of a week before, when Doctor Flower entertained the easterners at the camp, was gone. There were a few men at work, but the superintendent was lounging in a hammock beneath a sycamore tree. We were informed that the property was not open to the inspection of strangers. At the store we bought some sardines and crackers and feasted sumptuously. The storekeeper, when I asked him to sell us some candles, looked us over critically and refused. They were kept in stock for the use of the miners, he said. Duncan winked at me and strolled over to the counter where he was still munching his lunch. "Talk to him, and I'll get them," he whispered. "Leisurely I went to the opposite counter where the storekeeper was standing and engaged him in conversation. Later when we left the store and mounted our horses, Duncan opened his shirt-front and displayed several candles. "So Bill Duncan stood guard while I entered the workings of the Spenazuma Mining Company. We visited four tunnels and three shafts, all of them representing but a few hundred feet of work, and none revealing ore of value. "But on the dumps there was rich ore which had not come out of the workings of the Spenazuma. Where did it come from? Duncan shook his head thoughtfully. "The framework of a building, its foundation the bare ground and the heaviest timbers but four by six inches, presented a ridiculous contrast to the massive structures legitimate mining companies use for housing ore crushers and concentrators. Work had been abandoned on the building, for it had served its purpose during the visit of the easterners.

"It was plain that the Spenazuma had been salted. To find out where the ore came from that was on the dumps was necessary before the story would be complete. Duncan said it resembled ore from the Henrietta In the San Carlos Strip or from the Marblehead in Aravaipa Canyon."

Smalley's search throughout the Strip soon revealed that claim owners in the Stanley Butte, Deer Creek and Aravaipa districts had sold ore to Doctor Flower which had been packed to the Spenazuma. Also, that ore from The Marblehead claims owned by L. L. Wight had been purchased by Flower and shipped direct to the offices of the Spenazuma Mining Company in New York City, where it was placed on display "for the delection of the more astute investors who wanted to see what they were buying."

In his anxiety to return to Geronimo and telegraph news of the fraud to the outside world, Smalley almost fell into a trap prepared by Alkali Al who had accompanied him on his hunt for the source of Flower's rich mineral.

"I'll git you the fastest horse on the range," promised Alkali, "and you can git to Geronimo quick."

Alkali neglected to tell Smalley he had stolen the horse from Mim Hinton and that persons caught riding Stolen horses were subject to a treatment that leaves them walking on air. Had it not been for Byrd Brooks, justice of peace at Geronimo, Smalley would have been returned to the Gila Valley to face charges of horse stealing. In his world of intrigue, Alkali evidently hoped Smalley would be shot or hung as a horse thief, and thus have served his master, Flower-for a sum, of course.

Back East the Spenazuma bubble burst with a bang, unable to withstand the prickings of Smalley's barbed dispatches. Frantically Flower fought to retain his golden prize with every possible means, even sending a lawyer to Arizona who offered Smalley $5,000 if only he wouldretract his stories and declare the mine was rich as represented.

Unable to bribe Smalley, the attorney next threatened the Arizona Republican with a libel suit. Harvey Lee, business manager of the Arizona publication, defied him to do so and no more was heard along this line. Even the governor of Arizona, N. O. Murphy, took a hand in the scrap against Flower by issuing an official proclamation warning eastern investors against the Spenazuma Mining Company.

Flower had one last fling at the mining swindle game in Arizona before calling it quits for good, and again his nemesis was Smalley. Before the Spenazuma expose was a month old, Flower had organized the Lone Pine Mining Company and located a camp on the west slope of the Graham Mountains.

Smalley visited this new "Celestia" camp with Dory Morris, an old-timer at Geronimo, and had the unhappy experience of being shot at.

"What do you mean shooting at me?" Smalley angrily demanded of a man who represented himself as the mine's superintendent. "Bullets kicking up around one is no fun."

"Oh, I was shooting at some rabbits," leered the superintendent, "hope I don't mistake you for one again."

Once again Smalley pitted his pen and truth against slick-talk and lies and this time forever ended Flower's Arizona activities. It is regrettable to disclose, however, that Flower continued his shady operations elsewhere until the time of his death. Operating under pseudo names he became one of the foremost swindlers in the annals of American crime history. Had he directed his talents in the proper path he could have been a marvelous insurance salesman or a top-flight executive.

His career of crime was once temporarily climaxed when he persuaded the widow of Theodore Hagerman, a wealthy New Yorker, to invest $1,000,000 in one of his schemes. A two-year term in Blackwell's Island failed to direct him to the right path for he was arrested on two later occasions, jumping bail bonds of $25,000 in each instance.

In 1916, the law nabbed Flower in Toronto ending a hunt that covered the whole of North America and part of South America. While out on bail awaiting trial, death came suddenly in a Hoboken theater.

The fake doctor's Arizona sojourn is now but a memory to the old-timers in the Gila Valley. Even the old town of Geronimo has all but disappeared. Flower's legacy to Arizona was a rubble of tin cans, some brick, a few holes in the ground and the old story of a man who might have been.

BACK COVER

"SUNSET NEAR NORTH END OF THE SUPERSTITIONS" BY HARRY VROMAN. B. & J. Press Camera; Meter 25X; 1 sec. f.20; Cooke 8½" lens; Ektachrome. Rarely will a breath-taking sunset scene last until the photographer finds a suitable foreground. This one held on real obligingly while we sped down from Canyon Lake, until, near old Goldfield ghost town at the north end of the Superstitions, this location was found.

ROADS:

Recently I spent a Sunday afternoon reviewing your issues of last year. Among the many fine features you presented, to me the most interesting were those dealing with your highways. I hope you will present soon "70" and "89" and that you will also run an article sometime on your highway system as it will be effected by our new federal road building program.

E. S. Trever, Miami, Florida

DECEMBER ISSUE:

... The nicest Christmas present I received this year was a year's subscription to your magazine. The first issue, your December issue, is delightful. I have been in graphic arts nearly all my life and I can honestly say I have never seen better color reproduction.

Tom R. Fremont, New York, N. Y.

Congratulations on your December maga-

OPPOSITE PAGE

"SHEEP BRIDGE OVER SALT RIVER NEAR SAGUARO LAKE" BY HARRY VROMAN. Made with Kodak Vigilant 620; Kodak Anastigmat lens; high speed Ektachrome. A few days after our first visit to this place thousands of sheep from the Chandler country crossed the Salt over this suspension bridge headed for summer pastures in the White Mountains. A six week journey, both in spring and autumn.

Yours sincerely

zine, twenty of which I bought at a local newsstand for Christmas cards. The double, threepage, and four page photographs are sensational. Framed, they would surely decorate a room.

Mrs. Edna Levelton, Birmingham, Alabama

ROCKS ON THE COVER:

I am an enthusiastic, dedicated and fervent "rock hound." The collecting of minerals, in my opinion, is the most wholesome, healthful and interesting hobby one could have. Therefore, imagine my pleasure when I pulled your November issue out of the envelope and saw that brilliant spread of mineral specimens on the cover. Mr. Flagg and Mr. Getsinger did a beautiful job for you. And you are to be congratulated for being so courageous as to put rocks on your cover.

TRIBUTE TO DIRT ROADS:

More and more appropriations for highways...!

I'm wondering if we shouldn't start a movement for the prevention of black-topped roads to every isolated, lovely, and/or interesting spot in Arizona and the Southwest. So often the inaccessibility of such a place is one of the things which preserves it for what it is; saves its special quality for the intrepid, for those to whom the effort is so vastly worth-while and part of the adventure; and, of a way of life. Not necessarily among these, but surely a matter for special consideration, is the project for new fast road to the San Francisco Peaks. I hope I may many times see the view from the crest of Mt. Humphrey before such a highway brings with it some of the undesirable by-products. A New Englander, I have for years lived in California, but Arizona shares my heart with it; and during most of my holidays and leisure time I am following the narrow, winding dirt roads to some new and wonderful beauty and adventure in your state. Let your cities spread and become so-called "great" if industrial expansion, etc., etc., is still the criterion for improvement, but save the rare beauty and very special gifts of the gods for a while from unnecessary exploitation and commercialization.

Jane Harrison, Hollywood, California

SANCTITY

The yucca blossom puts on her communion-dress and kneels in silent prayer at dawn . . .

PATRICIA BENTON

MOUNTAINS BEYOND THE DESERT

Reckon their distance, but beware Of unseen devils in the air, Mocking measures of the eye, While the passing miles deny Any movement but the race Of the whirling earth through space; While the place where mountains are Looks so near-yet stays so far!

S. OMAR BARKER

LAND FORGETTING

Forgotten land. or is it land, forgetting? Barren wastes of long forgotten seas whose crags glower in a futile effort to remember . . .

Where is the wild caress of wind tossed waves? Only the crumbling mountains answer; Time softened, they lie inert, watching the curious burrowing of little prairie dogs.

LORRAINE BABBITT

GAY MACABRE

Tumbleweeds swishing And bouncing along Dance to the tune of The wind's whistled song.

A. N. DAVIS

TO A DEAD BUTTERFLY

Fragile wings of gossamer folded like praying hands, Downy body, motionless, thread-thin legs collapsed, You lie, frail butterfly, upon the dusty road, The wind your funeral dirge, The flow'rs whom once you kissed your only mourners.