The Men Who Moved the Mountains

At Danenhauer, comptroller of Greenlee County, was reminiscing about his boyhood in Clifton. Looking out of the courthouse window at the peaceful, tree-lined streets and flower-filled gardens of the neat houses, he shook his head."

It wasn't always like this," he said. "When I was just a kid, back around 1916, I remember walking up the street along Chase Creek one day. The street at one section was lined on both sides with saloons and dance halls and so on, and the crowd was so thick I had to walk in the middle of the street. It must have been payday.

"At any rate, all of a sudden two shots rang out so close together they sounded almost like one. Everybody dove for cover. I started to go one way; but lying there right in front of me was a dead man, still bleeding from the gunshot wound.

"Well, I didn't like that a bit, so I turned to run the other way. But by gosh, there was another dead man lying there too! They had fired at each other almost simultaneously, and both were dead!

"By this time, I really wanted to get out of there; but as soon as the shooting stopped, people poured back out into the street, and there I was, hemmed in by the crowd who wanted to see what was going on and who had got shot.

It took a certain breed of men to make this or any country's mines. A surprising number, far more than TV writers or western novelists would have you believe, were true gentlemen, with excellent educations, a taste for the finer things of life, and a real concern for their fellow man. They were men of vision, who could see far ahead the country's needs for metals, and to whom the challenge of moving mountains to supply those needs was irresistible. Such a man was James Colquhoun, and to his name could be appended a long list stretching from Clifton-Morenci's beginnings to the present.

Others were those legions who will for the most part always remain nameless in the pages of history. They were not gentlemen. They were the big muscled wanderers who were willing to do backbreaking labor during the day for whatever pleasures the night might bring. They were refugees from an offended society buying their escape from something in the isolation of a remote mining camp. They were the rebels against conformity proving their virility by pitting themselves against hard rock and rock-hard men. And they were the very poor and unskilled, seeking a modicum of security on the payroll of a big company where competition was not so keen as in a city.

But gentleman or tramp, they all were tough. Moving mountains calls for tough men. The toughness was not necessarily a matter of fast fists or a quick draw, although both were acceptable assets, of course. Rather it was a toughness of spirit to survive in a lawlesswilderness without the creature comforts; to hold a place among tough men; to face up to danger daily; to conceive impossible tasks and then to overcome insurmountable obstacles to accomplish it.

Colquhoun tells the story of one tough man, Judge Boleyn, who stood up to a gang of cutthroats and told them "in plain language what he thought of them, calling them murderers and thieves, and predicting for each a violent end. It was a powerful as well as a prophetic speech, and most of us expected the judge would pay the usual penalty. These men, however, were not wholly bad; they were simply misguided young men who might have done well had they been brought up amidst better surroundings. They admired the courage of the judge, and from then on he had nothing to fear from their hands.

James Colquhoun, whose brains quite literally did move mountains and who had the special toughness to conceive the impossible and overcome the insurmountable to carry through, could write of Kid Louis and his gang that they were simply misguided young men. A gentle as well as a tough man.

Kid Louis and his cutthroats, on the other hand, were the opposite kind of tough. Evidently they were every bit as bloodthirsty and mean as the worst western villain any script writer ever dreamed up. They are said to have robbed stagecoaches and trains, stolen horses and cattle, shot anybody who got in their way, and generally conducted a reign of terror in the area.

When Kid Louis and his boys entered John Hovey's saloon in the evening after a hard day's robbing, everybody was supposed to step aside. But occasionally somebody from the mines had drunk enough courage to resist; he would start to reach for his gun (standard apparel in those days); and a few minutes later, after the body had been removed, the evening's revelry would resume, minus one tough but foolhardy man. At one time, killings averaged one a day.

The justice of the peace in Clifton in those days was named Jim Sias, a blacksmith, better known as Nevada Jim, after the territory he had come from. Jim was a big man and powerful. As a peace officer he was effective in breaking up brawls, accomplished, usually, at the expense of several broken heads. But as a representative of the law he fell short. The only law he knew was that of his own fists. As Colquhoun appraised him, he was a good man, but his own strength was his weakness.

Of course, in the very early days, white men were not the only lawless element. Greenlee County was in the heart of Apache territory, and the Apaches with more than a little right on their side did not take kindly to the white man's invasion and expropriation of their homeland. Until several years after the Apache Wars ended in 1886 a smart prospector, no matter how tough he was, never roamed the hills except in company with enough other well-armed men to discourage an Indian attack.

One of the jobs hardest to fill in those days was that of teamster. Ore or copper pig was carted to the railhead by wagon, and supplies were brought into camp on the return trip. Insurance companies were not as ubiquitous then as they are today; so there is no actuarial report on the life expectancy of teamsters. Contemporary accounts, however, reliably state it was extremely short.

Many a teamster left Clifton with a load of copper and never was heard of again. Other teamsters coming after would find the wagon wreckage, usually even the copper, for which the Apaches had no use; but of where the driver had been taken to what Apache torture there was no evidence. More frequently, however, the Apache proved himself a better businessman. He would let the wagons hauling copper pass and wait until the return trip when they were laden with provisions for the camp.

It's hard to fathom why men undertook such work. The trip on which the first copper produced in the area had to be freighted in wagons was 1,200 miles, all the way to Kansas City! Even without menace of the Apaches, the searing hear of the vast desert, the biting cold of winter mountains, the thirst and dust and loneliness must have been nearly unbearable. Only a very tough man would undertake it.

I'll put my trust In the wings of birds. Through the seasons, They carry God's Words. E. Jay Ritter A twitter, a chirp, A gleam in the tree. A sunbeam said, "Good Morning," to me. "I'm starting now On my sunny way, I've things to do This very day. Must warm the sod Where the seeds are stored, Must dry the ground Where the rain has poured. My rays must enter In every place So all can have A happy face." The sun climbed up To the noon time high, Then slowly left For the western sky. While tripping down To the glowing west Kept warming hearts In chilly breasts. And as it pillowed Its tired head, It painted the sky All golden and red. - Sylvia P. Robertson Last evening it seemed like a Goddess of night; Aloof, till the dark coaxed its Charms to unfold. This morn in the bright glare of Daylight Behold! The wilted remains of A cereus white. Nearby on the desert At dawn's wakening ray The gold chaliced poppies, Tight closed 'gainst the night, Fling wide molten petals To catch the first light An aureate banner To greet the new day. Barbara Robinson Distant desert ranges Burnished by the sun Are blanketed by shadows Creeping one by one. Up the wrinkled ridges, Down each sloping side, Over cliff and canyon, Slowly shadows glide. Move like soft, blue blankets - Crawl like crumpled shrouds: Patterns on the mountains. Stencilled by the clouds. Catherine Manley

Yours Sincerely "GHOST" OF COAL CANYON:

Many people from Sedona have visited Coal Canyon since my article in the August issue, 1966, of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS appeared. All have seen the "ghost" and have been both amazed and enchanted.

Among those who have gone is Dr. H. H. Nininger, Sedona's world-renowned meteoriticist. When he returned, he said that in his opinion Coal Canyon is one of the most beautiful in the entire state. He had, he said, passed by it often without realizing that it was there.

He and Mrs. Nininger camped out at the canyon for two successive nights, and Dr. Nininger did considerable exploring. He came back with a theory as to the cause of the "ghost" phenomenon, which, for the sake of the record, I hope you will publish.

As those who read the article will recall, the "ghost" is a pinnacle which stands by itself, rising from the bottom of an arm of the canyon. At full moon it suddenly appears as the mobile figure of a ghostly gigantic woman, and as such both the Navajos and the Hopis have mystical beliefs about it. Some white observers have thought the phenomenon must be due to phosphorescence; but Dr. Nininger does not think this is so. The brightness of the pinnacle at night and the illusion of movement is brought about, he feels, because of the pinnacle's particular loca-tion.

Some white observers have thought the phenomenon must be due to phosphorescence; but Dr. Nininger does not think this is so. The brightness of the pinnacle at night and the illusion of movement is brought about, he feels, because of the pinnacle's particular location.

GOING TO SCHOOL:

... I wonder if you know how many ways a teacher uses ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. It decorates our bulletin boards (especially for projects like Arizona Government, which are wordy and need illustration). It trims our seasonal cork borders above the blackboard. It illustrates color work in Art. Its western photos enrich our study of Western history. Its scenic views partner with our Geography book in helping children visualize tableland and contour farming. It is even an aid in teaching religion because of its views of God's country and of the Great Divide. As for music - any ballad singer will tell you how a picture helps to realize the words. What better gift for Father's Day could any man want but his copy of that consistently superb publication ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. My first glimpse of it was in a book store in Moonah five years ago, and I purchased the two copies on display, then left my name and address so that I would be assured of my copy regularly. It always arrives two months later than the published date, and how the days seem to drag.

FATHER'S DAY GIFT:

What better gift for Father's Day could any man want but his copy of that consistently superb publication ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. My first glimpse of it was in a book store in Moonah five years ago, and I purchased the two copies on display, then left my name and address so that I would be assured of my copy regularly. It always arrives two months later than the published date, and how the days seem to drag.

In all my life I have never seen such beautiful color pictures, even to the rotting logs, stones and dirt. We never realize the beauty that surrounds us. I am most impressed by the cloud effects. I wish to express my gratitude to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS for two very special reasons; firstly, the assistance it has given me with details as to the ability to produce perfect pictures, and secondly, for the previews leading up to the purchase of two of the finest books I have ever had the pleasure of owning and reading. I refer to Ranch Wife and Brighty of the Grand Canyon.

My wife and children share my views, and eagerly look forward to more.

"NORTH OF METCALF" BY DARWIN VAN CAMPEN. Photo taken along the Coronado Trail about six miles north of Clifton near the site of old Metcalf. Nothing remains of the old mining camp which once claimed a population of five thousand. Mining dumps in the area are still fertile fields for the collector. 4x5 Linhof camera; Ektachrome; f.27 at 1/25th sec.; 127mm Ektar lens; September; bright sunlight; Weston Meter 300; ASA rating 64.

"AUTUMN'S GOLDEN PALETTE" BY DARWIN VAN CAMPEN. The Coronado Trail (U. S. 666) offers motorists one of Arizona's most pleasant drives. The highway, completely hard-surfaced, takes one through beautiful mountain high-forested country in Greenlee County. In early October, when the magic of the fall season turns the aspen groves to gold, the trip is particularly rewarding.