TUBAC-LITTLE TOWN WITH BIG HISTORY

TUBAC LITTLE TOWN WITH A BIG HISTORY

"My sons--my sons." These were the proud words of Mrs. Jim Lowe, aged Tubac resident, as she pointed at the pictures of three uniformed boys which hung on the wall of her adobe home in Arizona's first settlement.

"None of them live in Tubac now. One is in Tucson, another in Texas, another in California. My other sons and daughters-they are all gone too."

So it is that Tubac, once Arizona's largest town and rival of Tucson until the 1870's-a town that re-established itself four times after massacre or forced evacuation in the Indian wars-faces another crisis in its existence. The hamlet's problem today is no longer such a violent one. It is the difficulty faced by small country towns all over America-the young people are moving to the city in search of higher wages and more exciting life.

Bound by strong family ties inherited from their Mexican forbears, the young people of Tubac used to stay home. But the sons from many families went off to World War II and the Korean conflict. They saw much of the world before returning to the small town nestled between the desert hills. Tubac was home-but there wasn't much to do. So the young men went away to Tucson or Nogales or places more distant.

Tubac's population dwindled rapidly. Possibly it would be in danger danger of dying out altogether today were it not for the prospect of a new type of development.

Located just off the busy Tucson-Nogales highway, which connects with Mexico's West Coast highway, Tubac may soon bear the title of a southwestern arts and crafts center.

Ross Stefan, well-known illustrator of the western scene, has opened a gallery and plans to make his home in Tubac. Last summer brought the opening of several craft shops, reconstruction of the central plaza, and the beginning of what the developers hope is a great influx of tourists. Perhaps Tubac is not to disappear from the modern road map.

Tubac's history as a white settlement goes back more than 200 years. Spanish authorities in 1752 established a presidio-a soldier occupied fort-on the site of a Pima Indian village there. It was the first such permanent military base in what is now Arizona. To the presidio came the wives and children of soldiers along with the families of other frontiersmen attracted to the fresh Santa Cruz Valley by its agricultural and mining possibilities and the protection offered by the new garrison. But the little settlement was to face its first major crisis in less than twenty-five years. With the frontier pushing northward, the presidio was transferred to Tucson in 1776.

Shortly before this removal, however, Tubac was the scene of two notable events. Juan Bautista de Anza, a vigorous frontiersman born and raised on the deserts of northern New Spain, was commander of the presidio. Anza long dreamed of claiming a place for Pimeria Alta, as his Sonoran homeland was then called, by making it a trade route between New Spain and the isolated Čalifornia settlements.

Starting from Tubac in January 1774, Anza led a thirty-four man party across the desert, following closely the route that later became El Camino del Diablo-The Devil's Highway-to the Colorado River. He crossed the Colorado with the aid of the Yuma Indians and successfully proceeded to Mission San Gabriel, completing the first overland expedition to California.

Anza carried news of his journey to Mexico City. As a result, the early autumn of 1775 found a great caravan organizing at Tubac. About 250 colonists with hundreds of head of livestock gathered in the lonely Santa Cruz Valley outpost. There they prepared for the march to California where they were to settle on a great bay. The expedition departed in October and was led to its destination by Anza. The bay-side settlement established later became known as San Francisco.

The removal of the presidio was a matter of grave concern to Tubac, for it left the upper Santa Cruz Valley exposed to Apache raids. Petitions begging protection were sent Mexico City. Finally, after several fearful years, a garrison of Pima Indians trained as soldiers was provided. Tubac then settled down to several decades of relatively peaceful existence. But its history was barely beginning.

The Mexican Revolution caused Spanish officials to lose interest in risking their lives to protect the frontier against Indians. By the mid-1820's, Pimeria Alta was left to defend itself. The new Mexican government, unstable as it was, had no time to heed the troubles of scattered desert settlements 1500 miles to the north.

Close at hand, however, were the Apaches who paid a great deal of attention to the white man's activities. Lone prospectors or ranchers were driven to the towns. Traders were swept from the trails. Soon Tubac and Tucson were the only settlements left in Arizona, and so they continued to be during the remaining years of official but non-existent Mexican rule.

Sometimes in these years, though, another type of man besides the Apache wandered in from the hills. Tall and bearded, he was the North American mountain man. Ostensibly he was earning a living by trapping. But probably more often than not he simply sought to lead a wondrous life of freedom and adventure in advance of the frontier which trailed him across the continent.

An international boundary meant nothing to mountain men, especially when no authority was found behind it. They drifted into the valley of the Rio Grande, the Colorado, the Gila, finding here and there a Spanish settlement. Sometimes they would be greeted with suspicion but just as often it would be with friendship.

The mountain men heralded the approach of the nation of their birth. They themselves didn't care much on whose land they traveled. But they took back to the American outposts many tales of the vast dry and mountainous but river-fed lands of the southwest. These lands were said to belong to Mexico, but only the Apaches appeared to exercise any control over them. Certainly, it was reasoned, this territory was bound to become part of the United States.

Most of it soon did when the Mexican War brought the southwest into American hands. All of Arizona north of the Gila was part of the prize. Tubac remained under Mexican control until the completion of the Gadsden Purchase in 1854. It also remained in a vulnerable position with regard to the Apaches.

Nevertheless, when the great migrations to California began in 1849, Tubac achieved a new breath of life. Many overland pioneers followed a southern trail utilizing the Rio Grande and Gila River Valleys, crossing between the rivers via Guadalupe Pass in extreme southwestern New Mexico and the Santa Cruz Valley. Tubac was the first town encountered on this route after the long dry haul over the continental divide.

In October 1849, a wagon train from Missouri approached Tubac, looking forward to its arrival there and a stop of several days. There were wagons to be repaired, supplies to be obtained, oxen, cattle and horses to be turned out for feed and rest in the fields along the river.

Nearing the settlement, however, the emigrants saw no people nor animals. No smoke arose from the outdoor ovens. No white Mexican wash fluttered in the breeze. Sensing something wrong, the train approached cautious-ly. The truth soon became plainly visible. Gray charred ruins lay on all sides. The Apaches had struck, killing all inhabitants who had not fled, firing anything that would burn and driving off the livestock. The Missourians bur-ied the dead and stopped a few days anyway. Then they moved on to tell the world another tale from the history of the Apaches' defense of their ancient homeland.

Tubac was still deserted in 1854 when Charles Poston and Herman Ehrenberg arrived there. Poston was a business man-adventurer who probably made his biggest mark in history as Arizona's first publicity agent. Ehrenberg was a mining engineer. The two men lived in Tubac's empty houses while exploring old Spanish mines and prospecting for new mineral resources. Their search proved successful and Poston organized the Sonora Exploring & Mining Company with headquarters at Tubac to operate the rich silver mines they discovered.

Traders and manual laborers began to pour in from Mexico, mining officials and skilled laborers from the United States. Other mines opened. Before long a thousand or more people lived in or near Tubac. It soon ranked as Arizona's principal town. Improvements followed. The Weekly Arizonian, first newspaper published in the state, appeared in 1859. A branch line of the Butterfield Overland Stage made a weekly run from Tucson.

Poston, as manager of Tubac's leading business concern, was looked upon as an all-powerful father by most of the Mexican population, a role he evidently accepted with gusto. He acted as mayor, justice of the peace and resident priest, all under commission as a deputy clerk of Dona Ana County, New Mexico, to which Tubac then belonged.

"Tubac became a sort of Gretna Green for runaway couples from Sonora," Poston wrote in the Prescott Miner in 1875, "as the priest there charged them twenty-five dollars, and the Alcalde of Tubac [Poston] tied the knot gratis, and gave them a treat besides."

But difficulties arose. Poston's ceremonies were recognized by the civil government. A visiting vicar apostolic, however, announced to the community that they were not recognized by the Church. Many citizens were terrified to learn they were living in mortal sin. Poston saved the day by paying the worried husbands enough money to purchase Church sanctions for their questionable marriages. This solution is said to have cost the mining company almost a thousand dollars.

With silver bullion proving somewhat unwieldy as currency, Poston also printed paper money for his community. Small pasteboard bills, known as boletas, were paid to his company's employees. They circulated throughout the Tubac trading area. For the convenience of the illiterate Mexican laborers, the boletas were imprinted with different animals to represent various sums of money from twelve and a half cents to ten dollars. They were redeemable in silver at the company office.

Poston wrote that no one was lonely at Tubac because all were engaged in diverting worthwhile labor. Nor was anyone hungry. The table was well set with native game, vegetables from an irrigated garden and French wines obtained through Guaymas.

Dozens of graceful Sonoran senoritas flocked into the mining town as a result of northern Mexico's loss of male population through civil wars and migration.

"The Mexican women were not by any means use-less appendages in camp," said Poston. "They could keep house, cook some dainty dishes, wash clothes, sew, dance, and sing. Moreover, they were expert at cards, and divested many a miner of his week's wages over a game of monte.

"We had no law but love and no occupation but labor. No government, no taxes, no public debt, no poli-tics . . ."

"Tubac is a paradise compared with Tucson . . ." wrote Phocian Way, a gentleman who came to Tubac as agent of the Santa Rita Mining Company in 1858.

The Civil War, however, dealt a death blow to Tubac's golden age. Upon the start of the conflict, federal troops were ordered to return east. Watching the soldiers depart, the Apaches thought they finally had defeated the white man and driven him from the land.

Most residents left Tubac as soon as the army marched out of Arizona in 1861. However, about thirty decided to remain. This group soon found itself besieged by more than two hundred Apaches and had to send to Tucson for assistance. Re-enforcements quickly arrived to drive off the Indians. They also frightened away seventy-five Sonoran bandits who, upon hearing that the American government had broken up, approached from the south. But the situation was hopeless.

Author-traveler J. Ross Browne visited Tubac in 1864 with Charles Poston and described the scene in his book, Adventures in the Apache Country: ". harassed on both sides by Apaches and Mexicans, and without hope of future protection, the inhabitants of Tubac for the last time abandoned the town; and thus it has remained ever since, a melancholy spectacle of ruin and desolation."

Most of the evacuees went only to Tucson, however, so almost immediately upon the conclusion of hostilities in the east they were able to return to Tubac. Within a short time the little Santa Cruz settlement had regained a large part of its old population.

The mines, however, did not prosper again. The old operators lost too much upon the outbreak of the war and new ones failed to appear. Poston was busy with other matters-representing the newly organized territory of Arizona in Congress. Nevertheless, former residents proceeded to develop a considerable agricultural community. Briefly the area looked to have a bright future. But, by the end of the decade, the inhabitants were learning that the American government, even in peace time, was little better prepared to provide adequate protection against the Apaches than had been the Mexican.

Five times the Apaches raided Tubac in January 1869, killing or stealing horses and livestock, a pattern they followed all that year and the next. Citizens found the tax assessor charging them for animals that almost invariably were gone by the time the tax collector came around. And the collector still insisted on being paid.

Early in 1871, the last remaining Tubac families departed for Tucson.

This desertion lasted five years. Some of the persistent old timers returned again in 1876, but it was not a complete resettlement such as had occurred in 1865. Moreover, most of the settlers with foresight and business ability failed to come back this time.

However, people stayed and farmed. They even came back again after another partial evacuation in the

mid-1880's brought on by the final Apache uprisings led by Geronimo. This flight took away for good the town's doctor and hotel owner.

The coming of a branch line railroad from Tucson to Nogales brought some light for the future. But any possibility of development as a commercial center was lost with the rapid growth of Tucson and Nogales. Even the main highway which curved into the center of Tubac until 1930 was straightened in that year to bypass the town.

Finally came World War II and the consequent departure of the younger generation. What could keep the little town with the big history from disappearing along with its venerable older generation, the older members of which are still a living bridge between pioneer days and the atomic era?

Artist Dale Nichols came to Tubac in 1948 and established a school of art. But not even Veterans' Administration approval which provided him with students on the GI Bill brought success. Nichols closed his school.

Ross Stefan wanders about Tubac and says that he sees beauty wherever he looks. Ross's successful career as a painter would indicate that he knows of what he talks and that, given the opportunity, he can arrange things properly in Tubac so that the attractiveness can be made visible to the visitor. He should have a long future to work on his project. Though known as an artist for almost a decade, he is now only twenty-two.

On the bulletin board in his gallery, situated across the street from the Tubac church, Ross has posted a newspaper clipping telling of the thirty-three per cent increase in traffic during the past year between Tucson and Nogales. Much of this increase is contributed by visitors to Arizona who already have nearby attractions to inspect in the Tumacacori Mission and the Pete Kitchen Museum. Certainly the restoration of the state's oldest town planned by its youngest artist should fit well on the schedule of those travelers who find time to stop at the upper Santa Cruz Valley's early mission and its famous fortified ranch.

Yours sincerely

HOSPITAL IN SHOW LOW: The town of Show Low, Arizona owes you a debt of gratitude and the story I am about to relate may sound like a fairy tale to some, but it is true and a very touching tale of just how wonderful people can be. Because you print such an interesting magazine, two people chose Arizona as their vacation spot in the fall of 1956. Because they were not disappointed in what they saw, they liked Arizona and became more aware of it's beauty and looked beyond that beauty to see the needs of a country that was increasing in population so fast. Because your magazine (our magazine, I should say) taught them to look, they saw a sign in the White Mountains, just west of the Show Low town limits, and on that sign they read -site of the Show Low Community Hospital -and when they returned to their native Indiana, they remembered the sign, and they remembered that Arizona had been all that they expected it to be so they wrote the Postmaster of Show Low and asked if they could help in the erection of the Hospital for the community that looked so bustling and busy and yet so small to tackle such a tremendous job as building a hospital. Their letter was of course answered and today the Show Low Community Hospital is richer by the sum of $500.00, and a wonderful letter complimenting ARIZONA HIGHWAYS and describing the hardships encountered by their husband and father in bringing to pass a similar hospital project in their town of Martinsville, Indiana. So to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS goes our heartfelt thanks for bringing these wonderful people into Arizona and past our sign. Show Low Community Hospital Fund Julienne Schmidt, Treasurer Show Low, Arizona

ROADSIDE PARK AREAS: Your October number gave us a glorious promise of autumn aspen beauty, which was fully realized on our trip to the Grand Canyon, through the Kaibab Forest, on to Bryce Canyon, up to Cedar Breaks, where it was hailing on October 2, then to Zion Canyon, and home through Beatty and Mono Lake country. We went over Monitor Pass where golden aspen again thrilled us. One of the best incidents on our trip was finding the State Highway Picnic Grounds near The Gap on Highway 89. It was so hot -no shade anywhere-we were hungry and thirsty. When we found that picnic table under those poplars and the drinking fountain-all the conveniences, we blessed the State of Arizona for providing this life-saving place. Altogether we love Arizona. The roads were very well marked. The people were friendly. The rocks are fascinating. Another wonderful place we visited, which we read about in your magazine, is Oak Creek Canyon. And Jerome, after reading your article, meant much more to us. I remarked one day that ARIZONA HIGHWAYS ought to have a rock issue, and behold, the day after our safe arrival home, here came the November number with its glorious cover and splendid informative articles. It makes us want to return to Arizona. Joyce E. Lobner San Francisco, California. I want to thank you for your wonderful November issue. Also your wonderful highway system. I recently went on a short vacation with four of my children. We found your highway camp sites, pull outs and directions better than in any of the four states we visited. Mrs. Frank Day West Los Angeles, California

SAGA OF THE SALT: Thank you for Harry Vroman's wonderful presentation of the lakes and dams on the Salt River in your January issue. We spent several days in the area last winter and they were among the most enjoyable of our visit to your state. We found the scenery and the climate superb. Congratulations to Mr. Vroman for his fine photographs. Homer L. Vinson Detroit, Michigan

SANCTUARY Speak softly here: if needs must be: This quiet wood knows only sound Of warbling bird, wind-rustled tree, And nimble furries stirring round: Mild tones that lift the thought sky-high, Are swift and blithe: the human voice, On which too many may rely, Here, has scant reason to rejoiceSave that it may be still-and find In harmony so rarely known: Something to urge the searching mind To ponder well on Nature's own. GRACE MEREDITH DESERT WHIRLWINDS Alone in the desert dust-devils dance Across the flat heat of a gray expanse Of sage-brush, rabbit-brush and prickly-pear Where there's no shade to rest in anywhere. Alone in the desert, alone in the sun Which even covotes and cottontails shun, Dust-devils dance until too tired to stand, Then limply collapse in a heap of sand. ELIZABETH-ELLEN LONG FRONTIER TOWN The streets are paved, but there is still The feel of dust and heat of sun. Where once the stage coach made its stop Now Greyhound busses start their run, And tourists saunter down the walks Or wait beneath the taxi stand. Lean, weathered men collect in groups To talk of cattle and of land. The highway cuts the town in half And thus divides its very soul. Though swank motels have shouldered in, The cowboy still must play his role. BETTY ISLER FORSAKEN PUEBLOS Uncovered to the desert air, The ruined pueblos sit and stare All day at the wide turquoise sky. But after dark, when stars are high, The creeping shadows walk again As centuries ago, live men Had walked at night on these plateaus In pride an alien never knows. GRACE BARKER WILSON PALO VERDE IN SPRING A verdant maiden with spangled hair flings herself into a pool of spendthrift sunlight. PATRICIA BENTON BACK COVER "JET TRAIL-ABOVE FORTIFICATION HILL," by Carlos Elmer. In my infantry days, we used to call this "a target of opportunity." I had my camera and tripod set up for a picture of Fortification Hill, near Hoover Dam, when an F-86 jet streaked by, leaving his contrail mark in the sky. I quickly switched from the 6-inch lens to the wide-angle lens, from horizontal to vertical format, and managed to catch this trail and a part of Fortification Hill before the contrail was dissipated. This view of Fortification Hill is obtained from a dirt road marked "Kingman Wash" that leaves U.S. 93 about a mile south of Hoover Dam. It's a nice little side trip of a few miles past the Hill to the lake shore at Kingman Wash. 90 mm. Schneider Angulon wide-angle lens, f.16, 1.5th second. Polaroid filter to darken the sky and accentuate the clouds and contrail. 4 x 5 inch Burke & James Press Camera, Ektachrome film. OPPOSITE PAGE "GREEN FIELDS OF SPRING-ALONG THE BIG SANDY" by Carlos Elmer. This farm is found along the Big Sandy River, about 50 miles southeast of Kingman. I recall from boyhood days the truckloads of delicious corn and watermelons that came into Kingman from "down on the Sandy." Travel to that area was quite an adventure in those days, but the area is now being opened up by completion of U.S. 93 as a great new highway leading from Kingman to Congress Junction and the Salt River Valley beyond. 90 mm. Schneider Angulon wide-angle lens, f.18, 1.25th second. 4 x 5 inch Burke & James Press Camera, Ektachrome film.