PETE KITCHEN RANCH AND MUSEUM

Col. Gil Procter slowly pulled himself up out of his chair to his full six feet four. Speaking slowly with a slight drawl, enthusiasm brightening his blue eyes, he mused, “Ever since I was five I wanted a white adobe house and a black horse.” It's been more than fifty-seven years since that day. He has traveled in many parts of the world, he's seen a lot of action, and had a number of black horses-now the white adobe house is a reality along with his Pete Kitchen Ranch and Museum project.

Busy U.S. Highway 89 bisects the old Pete Kitchen Ranch lands 57 miles south of Tucson, Arizona. Pete's stronghold, which is now the museum cannot be seen from this new high-speed highway unless you know exactly when and where to look. It stands to the east, partly hidden by cottonwoods, about 200 yards from the old road which Pete called “the road from Tucson, Tubac, Tumacacori, ToHell.” But 13 miles south of Tumacacori National Monument or 5 miles north of Nogales, Arizona, where the foothills nudge close to the highway is the entrance road and a sign. A graded lane leads a short distance through the rolling farmland to the museum, which is open to the public for a small fee (50¢) every day from ten to five o'clock except Mondays.

When you turn in at the Pete Kitchen sign and curve around a low hill, in the distance is the “white adobe house” which is now Procter's home. It adjoins the original sixty foot, twenty-four inch walled Pete Kitchen stronghold which is now a museum, housing some of the most interesting southwest and Spanish relics to be found. Forty years or so, before Col. Procter was born, Peter Kitchen drifted into Tucson from the gold fields of California. “Pete” as he was called by everyone who knew him, was born back east and raised in the Daniel Boone country of Kentucky and Tennessee. Pioneering was in his blood.

In his early twenties he left home, joined the army and served in the Mexican War. Later, after living in Texas for a short while, he drifted to Arkansas and finally to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. Thence he set out with the Mounted Rifles, as wagon master, headed for Oregon. He left the army at Ft. Vancouver on the Columbia River and stayed in Oregon until 1850 when he went to San Francisco. Four years later he was in the wild Arizona region.

The lush green of the fertile Santa Cruz Valley, and the abundance of wild game intrigued him. Now in his early thirties this hardy little pioneer settled down to carve out a home for himself on this last frontier. He lived briefly at Canoa. He built his first house and started stock raising. These were the days of the mining boom at Tubac, and the early western outposts of the army-Fort Buchanan and Fort Breckenridge. Kitchen secured a government contract to supply beef to the troops in Arizona. But back east trouble brewed. On April 12, 1861, the first shot of the Civil War was fired.

The Butterfield Stage was discontinued through the Southwest. Fort Buchanan was burned and Union troops destroyed supplies to keep them from falling into the hands of Confederates. The war blazed on and all troops were withdrawn to the battlefields of the east. The Apache descended in full force and the little outposts of the Southwest struggled, gasped and died.

With the signing of the peace, the military head-quarters in Arizona moved from Prescott to Tucson. Camp Crittendon was rebuilt near the site of old Fort Buchanan. People slowly began to come back. Kitchen strapped on his six shooters and returned with new hope, to settle down once again. This time at Potrero, near Calabasas. He raised corn, potatoes and cabbage. He acquired a herd of swine and began supplying lard, bacon, ham and produce to the settlements.

But it was not easy. In the WEEKLY ARIZONIAN of Jan. 31, 1869, we read that "News has just been brought here of the loss by Mr. Peter Kitchen, on the Potrero, of all of his stock by these red d--ls.", for on January 18, 1869, Indians captured Kitchen's entire herd, some 50 cattle and horses and killed 200 sheep near Tubac. Pete pulled in his belt another notch and built him-self a stronghold. A sentry paced its roof and his hands plowed and worked with loaded guns by their side. Yet June 17, 1871, the ARIZONA CITIZEN reports "Another mur-der by Indians was perpetrated on the upper Santa Cruz. This time the victim was a young son, about 11 years old, of Peter Kitchen. He was shot on the 8th inst. about 200 yards from his residence. Mr. Kitchen sent in a re-quest for ten soldier to stay with him until his crops are harvested, coupled with the assurance that, if this were granted him, he would never again ask military assistance in Arizona. Here is one of the boldest and truest friends of the Territory discouraged. It is no wonder."

But Pete was not discouraged. A month later almost to the day, "Peter Kitchen was in town this week. He reports a fine harvest of barley on the upper Santa Cruz. He had more than twenty acres of barley which yielded at the rate of 4,000 pounds or seventy bushel to the acre. This was on the rich bottom land reclaimed by drainage. Other land produces from that quantity to something like less than 30 bu. to the acre. He has planted some 70 acres in corn."

In the yellowing newspapers we read of his determination. ARIZONA CITIZEN June 6, 1872 "Personal... Our friend Pete Kitchen was in town this week from Potrero. He reports that his crops are excellent. He has about 20 acres of potatoes planted and has made this year about 14,000 pounds of No. 1 bacon and hams which he has sold at an average of .35 per pound. Also 5,000 pounds of lard sold at the same price. Mr. Kitchen's farm is located near the Sonora line, and at one of the most exposed points for Apache depredations in Arizona. TheApache had endeavored to take his place many times-one partner and all his neighbors have been murdered, and last summer his boy was killed within gun-shot of his door. Instead of being frightened or discouraged by these bold and numerous attacks he seems only more determined to stand his ground and take his chances. The Indians have learned to their sorrow that in him they have no insignificant foe. He never travels the same road twice, and he always sleeps with one eye open, therefore ambushes do not win on him worth a cent. He has been on the picket line now for over fourteen years and he has buried nearly all of his own acquaintances and should his luck continue he may be truly called the first and last of Arizona's pioneers.' His luck did last. He early learned, when forced out of the cattle business by the Indians, that it was more profitable to feed corn to hogs to make bacon and lard, than to sell it for any whatsoever price he could get. The result was, as clippings tell, "he always has on hand a few old Mexican dollars, while most of his neighbors who depend on the sale of grain are a few short all the time." His lard and bacon and hams became known to all settlements, even to Silver City and Fort Bayard. For seventeen years he held out, never once dislodged.

With the coming of the railroad in the early 80's, he sold his ranch for a sum reputed to be anywhere from $30,000 (considerable in those days) to $60,000, and built himself a home in Tucson. But Pete the fearless was also Pete the convivial, and Pete the generous. By the time he was seventy-two he himself said he was "living on the interest of what I owe."

When the famous Pete Kitchen died in 1895 at the age of seventy-seven, a three-year-old boy was listening to his father romancing about the early west. This little boy today is Col. Gil Procter. Early in his boyhood Procter developed a love of antiquities, especially of the Southwest. He says of himself, "I've always been a junk man." He trudged with his father to Indian ruins, gathering arrowheads and pottery.

His father, an Englishman, settled in California in 1885, and Gil and his brother Jim grew up in an atmosphere of horses and sport. His father was one of the organizers of the first polo team west of the Mississippi.

Col. Procter's formative school years centered around sports. Through his interest in tennis he met Miss Joan McCall, a tennis champion of California, who is now Mrs. Gil Procter, hostess at the famed Pete Kitchen ranch.

Procter's first visit to the border area that is now his home was in 1916 when he served with the Seventh Infantry, California National Guard, in the days of Pancho Villa. It was then began his dream to acquire the Pete Kitchen ranch. He listened to the tales of the early frontier days from the old timers who still remembered Kitchen. But dreams are dreams and Procter's life was still before him. His was destined to be a soldier's life of army post to army post, carrying him to the far corners of the world.

World War I found the Procters at San Diego, California. Now began their travels from Georgia to Hawaii. By 1929 Lt. Procter asked to be transferred to Nogales and he was returned there as Intelligence Officer with the 25th Infantry. He tried now in earnest for the Pete Kitchen ranch but it was not for sale. He bought the Jim Hathaway ranch near it. Not until thirteen years later could he add the Kitchen ranch to his holdings. Tours of duty again carried the Procters from Wyoming to Equador, where World War II caught up with them.

Stranger than fiction Procter, on his return, was sent to Nogales for a brief three month period to report on conditions on the border. The day he arrived he heard the Pete Kitchen ranch was for sale and he bought it.

VE day Procter and his son Gil celebrated the victory at Hitler's hideout at Berchtesgaden where the Colonel picked up a lock blown from Hitler's safe and his son acquired a corner of the fireplace mantle. These are today in the museum. Col. Procter retired from the army in 1946 and he and Mrs. Procter came to his “dream home” and set up residence. With them they brought their many possessions and antiquities which the “junk man” had been collecting all his life.

The Procters added on to the old Pete Kitchen stronghold and built themselves a “white adobe house.” They scoured the neighboring countryside for stories and relics. The long nurtured hobby became an avocation. The Procters followed clue after clue, gathering Southwestern lore. Friends came to see them and saw the little museum. They told others. Soon the Procters had to put up a sign which read “No Trespassing.” Meanwhile Procter located Pete Kitchen's two living neices. They showed him where Pete Kitchen's own “boot-hill” cemetery had been located, and contributed valuable his-toric information. The fame of the restoration of Kitch-en's stronghold spread and the traveling public could not be withheld.

In October, 1954, the Procters opened the museum. Viewing it was still by private appointment. The visitors' register grew and grew. Early in 1956 the Procters gave up and put up a directional sign. For the first four months of last year 925 interested visitors had been to Pete Kitch-en's ranch and museum.

A visit to the Procter's is a rare treat. The original Kitchen fields of "rich reclaimed bottom land" still wave with green fields of barley, oats and corn. Pete Kitchen's original well supplies water for the household. Col. Proc-ter will stand with you in the doorway of the stronghold and point to a rock (today painted white for better vis-ibility) and say, "You see that rock up there on the hill? Well, one day Pete was looking out of his stronghold and saw something move up there that didn't wear a hat. He took aim and fired. He heard a bloodcurdling yell and then silence, Kitchen had scored a bull's eye at 500 yards."

Does this tax your belief? Well, he is right. You can read it in pioneer files.

Walk down the slope to the bubbling swirling waterfall pouring out from 1200 to 1500 gallons a minute-the only one of its kind in this part of Arizona, and sit in meditation. Perhaps if you look around you will find prehistoric arrowheads. This was an oasis for travelers long before the Spanish with their clanking armor and the quiet Jesuits in their long black robes passed by.

Or step into the museum and gaze with wonder at the treasures the Procters have collected, relics of Indian days, handwritten Jesuit documents, three bronze Moorish stirrups brought by the Conquistadores. On the walls are fabulous Indian blankets, religious paintings and an original Apache medicine shirt, of which Col. Procter will tell you there are only known to be five in existence, one of which is in the Smithsonian Institution.

But above all don't make this an in-and-out again stop or you'll be sorry. Here is a visit to the "Old West" that will intrigue you for a whole day.