Apache County Arizona U.S.A.

AUTHOR OF "RANCH WIFE"

An anecdote about Mark Twain says that he looked at a man across a street and remarked to a friend, "See that man over there? I don't like him." "I didn't know you knew him," said the friend. "I don't know him," said Twain. "If I did, I'd like him." In this story, we'll cross the street now and then to meet the man and the place where he lives, Apache County, Arizona, U.S.A.

Apache County has four interstate and nine state highways running through it. It also has roads of sand, mud, gravel, clay and rock. The total area of the county is 7,151,360 acres, a lot of county to get acquainted with. Of this land, 63.42 percent is Navajo and Apache Indian Reservation. The Apache and Sitgreaves National Forests and the Petrified Forest National Park use up 7.64 percent of the land. 12.59 percent are state lands or public domain. Only 16.35 percent is privately owned. The main source of income is from livestock production, forest industries and tourism. Ranches and farms use 6,212,359 acres and of these, 10,918 are crop land. In 1966, Apache County ranchers raised 38,608 head of cattle; 108,447 head of sheep; and 9,470 horses and mules. About 42,000 people are spread out over Apache County. Two-thirds of them are Indians.

PREHISTORIC ERA OF THE COUNTY

In the southern part of the county is a natural barrier, the White Mountains. They are a continuation of the Mogollon Rim, which divides Arizona's arid south from the high plateau of the north. The first people to live in these mountains were Indians of the Mogollon culture. They lived along river valleys and survived by hunting, gathering wild foods and growing corn. The earliest sites have been dated about 300 A.D. and they consist of villages of small, round pit houses. The Mogollons made pottery which was usually plain buff, brown, or reddish in color. By 950 A.D. the Mogollon culture had absorbed so many outside influences that it was given a new name, Mimbres. Pit houses were replaced by above-the-ground communal houses and their pottery became more sophisticated. In the Twelfth Century, the Mimbres people left their villages, taking their belongings with them. Archaeologists do not know where these people went, but they were probably absorbed by other cultures. About the same time, small bands of Athabaskan Indians from the north had begun to drift into the Southwest. They were hunters and warriors, who survived by making seasonal raids on their enemies, particularly the people who farmed and lived in villages. In time, these Athabaskans divided into two distinct groups, Apaches, who settled in the mountainous regions of the Southwest, and Navajos, who lived in the high plateau country of rocky canyons and mesas.

CORONADO CAME THIS WAY IN 1540

The first white man to see Apache County was Francisco Vasquez de Coronado. In 1540 he left New Spain, as Mexico was called, to explore the northern wilderness. He was certain that he would find the legendary golden cities of Cibola and Gran Quivira. With about 300 soldiers, some of their women and children, several hundred Indians, and a large herd of horses, cattle and sheep, he left New Galicia, north of Mexico City. They marched across deserts, canyons and foothills, over barren mountains, then up the escarpment of the Mogollon Rim to what is now southern Apache County. He called these mountains Sierra Blanca, the White Mountains. The expedition proceeded, exploring, mapping, commenting on what it saw. Instead of glory and gold, the Spaniards found small villages of poor Indians. Coronado returned to New Spain in humiliation and defeat. The Spaniards did not return to colonize the Southwest for half a century. The route taken by Coronado is now U.S. 666, known as the "Coronado Trail." The Pueblo Indians received the first Spaniards in fear. The Navajos and Apaches watched and waited, seeing a use for the strange new animals. Spanish horses strayed north from Mexico into the mountains and plains, where they multiplied rapidly and changed the whole culture of Indians who learned to use them. By 1700, the Navajos and Apaches had become powerful, far-ranging groups of horsemen. So successfully did they dominate the Southwest, that Apaches and Navajos formed an absolute block to westward expansion in the territory they controlled until the mid-1800s.

APACHELAND

For 250 years, the White Mountain Apaches fought to keep their homeland. First were the Spaniards, who offered them the Cross in one hand; slavery in the other. The Apaches retaliated for the Spanish slave raids of the 1600s by raiding white settlements all over the Southwest, capturing women and children and killing those who defied them. When the Apache wars were over, and the mountains were surrounded by white settlements and forts, the Apaches remained aloof and bitter, but they had held their homeland, 1,664,872 acres of the most valuable country in the state. In their ceremonies and dances, Apache singers still tell of the beauty of the land. Mary Riley, an Apache Councilwoman, says: "The songs tell of the earth and the sky, the ocean and the rain and the lightning, about all the great mountains known to the Apaches . . . the Pinals, the Santa Ritas, the Superstitions, the White Mountains. Some of the words meaning was forgotten a long time ago.

The Apaches neither gave nor asked favors of their old enemies. Tribal leaders realized that they had to develop their own resources. The tribe began to build roads and lakes and campsites with money they received from fishing and hunting permits. Until the last few years, most of the reservation was wild and inaccessible except on foot or horseback. Now, roads to remote areas are open. Since 1967 over twenty-six lakes have been built. Two fish hatcheries, Alchesay and Williams Creek, supply trout for the lakes and streams. Hawley Lake, 8,500 feet high, has 500 homesites which are leased from the tribe, boat rentals, a store and service station, trailer park, campsites and riding stables. The Apaches have a word which means "Come into my home" . . . Hondah. It has become their byword. Tourists are welcome to the reservation. The Apaches ask only that those who come do not spoil the primitive beauty of their land. The White Mountains cover about 2,500 square miles, but the permanent population of the area is only about 6,000. The summer population grows each year with land developments and new recreation facilities. The soil is good, basically composed of cinders and basalt, because the mountains are volcanic in origin. The short growing season prohibits farming on a large scale.

The snowpack of the White Mountains spawns the rivers that give water to much of the desert. Apache County's southern boundary is marked by the course of the Black River on its way to join the White River. These two rivers, forming the Salt, fill reservoirs and irrigation ditches in the Salt River Valley. Six hundred and eighty miles of trout streams run through these mountains and almost fifty lakes are open the year around for fishing. The White Mountains are divided between Fort Apache Indian Reservation, the Apache National Forest, Sit greaves National Forest and private land. In the forest live mule deer, black-tail deer, elk, antelope, bear, javelina, wild turkey, lion, jaguar, bobcats, coyotes and many small animals. In addition to Arizona hunting and fishing licenses, special permits must be secured to hunt and fish on the Apache Reservation. Reservation permits for antelope cost $25; elk $30; bear $10; javelina $3; waterfowl and dove $2; rabbits and squirrels $3.

Before long, the White Mountains will be as well known for winter sports as they are for summer recreation. For several years, the Apaches have kept records of snowfall on Mount Ord. Even in dry years, 11,300-foot-high Ord had a fifty-threeinch snowpack. In June, the Apache Tribe will begin construction of a $2,000,000 ski and winter sports complex called Sunrise Park. It will be the largest winter resort in Arizona. The ski run will have a double-chair, 7,000-foot ski lift; a 1,700foot poma lift; two beginner lifts; good access roads, trails and warming huts. Sunrise Lake will rest at the foot of the moun tains, stocked with trout for summer and winter fishing. Near the lake, a fifty-room lodge with restaurant, cocktail lounge, a marina and store will be built. Completion is scheduled for the fall of 1970.

Recreation will become the biggest source of income for the tribe, but the cattle and lumber industries contribute, too. More than 20,000 head of good Hereford cattle graze on reservation lands. Commercial timber stands contain four billion board feet of lumber and the Apaches own and operate their own sawmill.

PONDEROSA WITH MISTLETOE IN ITS ARMS

From Whiteriver, the Apache capital, a road turns south and east, toward the Apache County line. You pass the quadrangle of buildings at Fort Apache where once the cavalry drilled. It is November, just before the heavy snows. Across from the old military cemetery at Fort Apache, the cornfields lie fading in the autumn sun. Whiteriver runs between umbrellas of cottonwoods. You follow the river to the settlement of Seven Mile, where wickiups stand beside new frame houses. Two women walk along the road, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, wind whipping their long black hair and calico camp dresses. To the north lie long blue mountains. On Seven Mile Hill, fat calves peer out from behind juniper and manzanita and Spanish dagger. At the top of the hill, another world begins. a sea of yellow grass, pale in the wintry light. Wind brushes thin clouds off the sky. Cattle, drifting back from fall roundup, are scattered to their winter places. In a small hollow is Chino Springs Stockman Station... a little white house, corrals, a tank, windmill, some holding pastures.

The country elevates. At Big Bonito Creek, a lone man stands on a rock, casting a fly into the foaming water. The pines begin, tall ponderosa with mistletoe on their branches. Oaks and junipers crowd beneath them. A young buck mule deer runs across the road and stirs the dry oak leaves beneath his hooves. The forest grows thicker. Tents are pitched beside the dark, cold water of Tonto Lake. Frozen wind blows off the week-old snow. Horses of elk hunters stand tied to pine saplings, blankets protecting their thin coats from the high cold.

MAVERICK WAS ONCE UPON A TIME

Following a narrow valley downhill, you come to a sign that says "Maverick Logging Camp, elevation 7,800." In the valley is the tough old town, lonesome as a picked carcass. Vandals have wrecked the place. The little red houses stand in rows . . . blind houses with boarded up windows. The only noise is the cold wind in the pines. Maverick means "an unbranded animal" and the town was just that. Most people who have heard of Maverick at all remember it being announced on the weather reports occasionally as the coldest spot in the United States. What most people don't know is that Maverick sits in the world's largest stand of virgin ponderosa pine. Once the White Mountains were covered with small sawmills. Now Southwest Forest Industries dominates the lumber industry. At one time or another, most of the working population of the mountains has been employed by Southwest. It is among the top fifteen lumber producers in the United States and among the top five in ponderosa pine production. In 1947, Southwest built Maverick. They estimated that the crop of mature trees in the area would last about twenty-five years if they cut forty to fifty million board feet a year. They put in fifty miles of good roads and ran a spur of the Apache Railroad from McNary to Maverick. The town was never meant to be permanent.

Maverick means "an unbranded animal" and the town was just that. Most people who have heard of Maverick at all remember it being announced on the weather reports occasionally as the coldest spot in the United States. What most people don't know is that Maverick sits in the world's largest stand of virgin ponderosa pine. Once the White Mountains were covered with small sawmills. Now Southwest Forest Industries dominates the lumber industry. At one time or another, most of the working population of the mountains has been employed by Southwest. It is among the top fifteen lumber producers in the United States and among the top five in ponderosa pine production. In 1947, Southwest built Maverick. They estimated that the crop of mature trees in the area would last about twenty-five years if they cut forty to fifty million board feet a year. They put in fifty miles of good roads and ran a spur of the Apache Railroad from McNary to Maverick. The town was never meant to be permanent.

In 1968, Southwest closed their logging operations at Maverick. A Country-Western song was written about it: Today my heart is heavy, As I take this train ride. It's the last train to Maverick For the White Mountain line. Today Maverick is dying, Because it's a company town, Kept alive by the hum of the sawmill, But today the mill's closing down. So the people must all move on, Say 'goodbye' to their town and their home, Today is a page in history, Today a ghost town is born.

Mrs. Ruby Lott was postmaster at Maverick for almost nine years. "There is no such thing as a postmistress," she says. Her husband, Hearl Lott, was assistant superintendent of Maverick. People used to gather at Ruby's post office when the mail came in every other day. Ruby Lott liked her work. She says, "You could always make somebody happy just by giving him a letter." They were there for the shut-down parties in the fall when snow stopped logging operations and they were there for the open-up parties in the spring when people danced all night and put their children to bed on the tables in the dining hall. The Lotts chipped in when townspeople bought a toboggan, went up the mountain after work at nights, built a bonfire, drank coffee, and took turns flying down the half-mile run. They were there when the only entertainment was the TV in the general store and everyone came with blankets to sit on the floor and watch the one channel.

Dovie and Chuck Earl came to Maverick right after they were married. Chuck hauled material to the town when it was being built. In the twelve years they lived in Maverick, Chuck worked on a loader, was a blade man, a truck driver and a timekeeper. They helped get wood for the schoolhouse in the fall and played baseball with everyone else at the school picnics in the spring.

One day when Chuck was loading logs on the train a halfmile out of Maverick, the loader turned over on him. When they got him out, his leg was crushed. They took him to the McNary hospital, one hour and twenty minutes away. Within ten minutes of the accident, half the town was at Dovie's door asking what they could do. She got to McNary as soon as she could. Chuck was on the stretcher, still conscious. "Are you going to lose the leg?" she asked. "Old Doc says he's going to keep it today," Chuck said.

Chuck had ten operations, but lost the leg. The only complaint Dovie remembers in his five months in the hospital was, "Sure wish I had a cold beer." When he recovered and went back to work, he had a lot of fun with his artificial leg. He drove into McNary once, called the clinic and said, "Say, can I see the doc? I just broke my leg." "Go to the emergency room and wait for the doctor," the nurse said. "I can't wait around all day," said Chuck. "I have to get back to work." The nurse frantically prepared the emergency room and Chuck came in holding his broken artificial leg.

PASTORALS

On the other side of Maverick, the road goes between the forests of aspen, blue spruce, white fir and ponderosa that fed the sawmill. Then down a long, steep hill into the open foothills where the pines come down to meet the plain, homely hills around Big Lake. In the foothills below Mount Baldy, snow patches lie shrinking in the sun. Bunch grass stands stiffly between malapai rock.

At the foot of Baldy is Sheep Crossing. In summer, lambs born in the Salt River Valley and their mothers climb all the way up the Mogollon Rim, walk across the wide forests, and come to the foot of Baldy to drink the mountain water andgraze on the green grass. The trail to the top of Baldy begins at Sheep Crossing. Near the 11,459-foot summit, the Little Colorado River is born. She sucks on the fresh runoff from melting snow and takes her first steps down the mountain.

The river grows swiftly, fed by other streams. She runs headlong into the Greer Lakes, which were built by men to hold her, still her, to give her some sense of duty and usefulness. Because of the permanent water supply of the Little Colorado, settlers came to the valley in 1879. At first, the place was called Lee Valley; later it was renamed Greer, after A. V. Greer, a Mormon from Texas. Little farms of oats, barley and rye were planted. In the summer, wild timothy hay and meadow grass were cut for fodder. E. W. Wiltbank built a small sawmill in the upper part of the valley. The Wiltbank family home became Molly Butler Lodge, the oldest dude ranch in Arizona. The permanent population of Greer is about 125. The summer population jumps to 5,000. Local fishermen claim that some of the biggest trout in Arizona are caught in the Greer Lakes.

TIMBERLAND AROUND McNARY-IN-THE-PINES

Just across the Apache County line on Arizona 73 is the lumber town of McNary. The houses, general store, clinic, hospital, are all painted brown. It is a company town. The smell of raw lumber and pine smoke cling to it.

About 1914, a Mr. McGaffey and his brother-in-law, L. C. Bennett, leased several thousand acres of forest from the Apaches with the intention of building a sawmill at a place called Cooley, the present site of McNary. In September, 1916, they shipped 160 horses and mules to Holbrook and hired a crew of Mexicans and Indians to lay track from Holbrook to Cooley. Tents that housed 150 men were set up in the middle of four mile grades. About seven miles of track was laid a month. J. R. Farwell was in charge of upgrade and rail laying. Every day, two tank wagons hauled water for the men and animals. They had nearly finished the railroad when the first storm hit. The crew boss quit for the winter, but Farwell, the manager, wouldn't give up. He took over, pushing the snow ahead of the rails with horses and a plow.

The expense of the railroad had been heavy. McGaffey and Bennett sold out to Tom and Rob Pollack. In 1917, a circle saw was brought in and construction of the town began. Sixty carpenters were hired to build fifty-six homes, a small hotel, commissary and school. Cooley's first deputy sheriff had just been appointed when he was called on to chase down a bank robber who had stolen $600 and locked Bill Hockenhall in the vault. The bank robber was on his way out of town when he met Johnny Earl and a cowboy. They called the robber to halt and when he ignored their warning, they shot him four times in the neck and chin. He was buried in the hills east of Cooley.

Pollack sold the mill in 1923 to James McNary, a wealthy lumberman from Louisiana. McNary imported 500 skilled laborers from Louisiana and changed the name of the town to McNary. The first mill manager, H. M. Ady, needed an experienced grader and he sent to Sunheimer, Louisiana, for a young man named Walsh Mack.

WALSH (BIG) MACK A FIRST CLASS CITIZEN

Walsh Mack was born in Baskin, Franklin Parish, Louisiana, in 1891. Because there were ten children in the family, he left home when he was eighteen and went to work, first in a livery stable, then a sawmill, then a steel foundry. The prospect of a good job in Arizona took him to Holbrook on the train. At eight a.m., January 17, 1924, he stood shivering on the station platform in Holbrook and "wished to hell" he'd never left home. "I would have gone back right then if I'd had any money," he says. He had no choice but to go on to McNary. The train went so slowly, he got off and walked along the tracks to pass the time.

Mr. Mack was the eighth colored man to work at McNary. He worked as a grader, a millwright, oiler and log scaler. In the early days, the mill had four little boilers, three rigs, three planing machines and no dry kilns or moulding plant. The clinic had three beds and one doctor. Schools were segregated. The negroes lived in the part of town called "Milltown" and the whites lived above the mill in "Hilltown."

Dolly Sells owned a little cafe in Milltown. Mr. Mack married her in 1934. They both worked hard, saved their money and bought three acres of land in Pinetop, seven miles west of McNary. What they hadn't planned on was local bigotry. When the word got around that Mr. Mack had bought property in Pinetop, he was fired from his job at the mill and Mrs. Mack lost her lease on the cafe. Local people underestimated Mr. Walsh Mack. Built like a heavyweight fighter, six feet, three inches tall, straight as a pine tree, with hands the size of bear paws, he dug in. He and Dolly moved to Pinetop and with the help of an old bachelor, built a small cafe. On Easter Sunday, as Mrs. Mack was getting dressed for a sunrise service, someone set fire to the cafe and it burned to the ground. Mr. Mack is a peaceful man, but he let it be known all over the mountain that the next time anyone tried to get rid of him, they'd be sorry. It was the last time he had trouble.

"As usual, I was out of money," said Mr. Mack. For $125.50 he bought some reject lumber and started to rebuild. They built a shack consisting of one room, one wall, a roof and a dirt floor. Their oven was a converted oil drum in which Mrs. Mack baked pies and bread. They sold hamburgers, chile, barbecued ribs and chicken gumbo. At first, they grossed between ten and twenty-five cents a day. Nine years later, the Macks had built a new grocery store, cafe and liquor store which brought in $200,000 a year. At seventy-seven, Mr. Mack is a tall, straight, active, well-dressed gentleman who runs the Pinetop Buffet. His eyes show humor, but the old defiance is still there.

FOREST FESTIVALS

On June 24, 1967, McNary celebrated its Fiftieth Anni-versary in old-time logging town style. Churches, civic organi-zations and businessmen put up booths in the city park. A "Lumberjack" and "Lumberjill" were crowned. They led the parade riding on top of a shined-up logging truck. Leavitt Attractions brought in a whole carnival. In the park, Apache ladies sold "Apache cheeseburgers" fry bread, hamburger and cheese. Mrs. Minnie Guenther, America's Mother of the Year for 1967, dedicated McNary Community Park. Loggers, millworkers, foremen, all competed in contests a greased pole climb, log walking, spike driving, match splitting, log throwing, tobacco spitting (judged for both distance and accuracy) and fire fighting, which consisted of dousing each other's cigars with forest fire water tanks. Local bands played. White Mountain Apaches performed a Crown Dance.

From Memorial Day to Labor Day, steam engines of the White Mountain Scenic Railway are stoked up in McNary to pull passenger cars of sightseers up the grade to Big Cienega. Clouds of black smoke spew forth from the engine as it winds through the forest on the old logging railroad which once went to Maverick. Every year, some green forest fire lookout reports this smoke to his ranger station. "Looks like a bad one! It's spreading fast. moving in an easterly direction!" The flat voice of the dispatcher comes over the radio, "You are looking at the White Mountain Scenic Railroad."

Big Cienega, at the foot of Mount Baldy, is broad, open and windy. In summer, it is a sea of green grass surrounded by forested hills. In winter, blizzards sweep across it. When the road has been cleared, skiers head for Big Cienega Ski Run. In January, 1958, a few people from the area combined efforts to build a ski run and lodge on land leased from the Apaches. Two years later, a non-profit organization called the White Mountain Ski and Winter Sports Club took over. They borrowed $100 from twenty local businessmen to build a poma lift. The run is operated by volunteers and is open weekends and holidays. Fees for renting skis, poles and boots are moderate. Qualified ski instructors and a ski patrol are on duty when the run is open.

WEST OF EAGAR A HEREFORD KINGDOM SPRINGERVILLE GATEWAY TO THE WHITE MOUNTAINS

The grass and water that attracted outlaws in the 1870s and 1880s are now producing some of the best purebred Here-fords in the country. Just west of Eagar is a ranch called the 26 Bar. The owners are absent except for a few days in the year. Jack Leforce, the manager, goes to Stanfield, Arizona, in the winter to take charge of the purebred herd when it is moved south. Marvin Meek, the herdsman, stays for the winter to run the ranch. He is a slim man with sharp hazel eyes. Except for his soft drawl, you wouldn't know that Meek had been raised in Virginia, because he looks as western as high-heeled boots. Under the direction of an Englishman, he began training border collies in 1941. He understands the worth of a good dog and knows how to train one. He has entered sheep dog trials and has made a movie showing his dogs at work. His collies were imported from Scotland. He is now in the process of training a pup named Meg to work with the older dogs.

Meek is responsible for the care and feeding of all the cattle at the ranch. Last year, 26 Bar Herefords took eleven of the twenty-one available blue ribbons at the California Exposition and they brought top prices at auctions. Meek is a dedicated man who likes what he does, although he says, “I guess I haven't led a very interesting life.” His boss is John Wayne, the film star.

John Wayne and his partner, Louis Johnson, own fourteen successful ranches which are part of a purebred Hereford oper-ation. Wayne's movie schedule keeps him traveling most of the time, but he tries to spend three or four days a year in Springerville. He looks as natural in Round Valley as a pair of Levis on a cowpuncher and, as one native remarked, “He don't put on airs.” In 1968, he agreed to start a local celebra-tion known as John Wayne Day, for the benefit of the White Mountain Community Hospital.

Wayne led off the parade on a paint horse. After the parade, everyone was invited out to the ranch to watch Marvin Meek put on an exhibition with his border collies. At noon, a bar-becue was held at the rodeo grounds. 3,000 people ate 1,100 pounds of barbecued beef. That afternoon, Wayne and his son John sat in the grandstand to watch local barrel racers and jackpot roping. With the barbecue, a banquet, and dance, the town gathered in $5,500 and John Wayne took his place among the folk heroes of Apache County, Ú.S.A.

East of Big Cienega, Arizona 73 comes down off the mountain into Round Valley. In the 1870s, Round Valley was settled by two disparate groups. Wagon trains of Mormon families came from Texas and Utah. Resourceful families such as the Udalls, Greers, Eagars, Crosbys and Wiltbanks, built homes, a school, irrigation ditches, and planted farms and orchards. Most of the Mormons settled at the town of Eagar.

Springerville, two miles north of Eagar, was the headquarters for horse thieves, cattle rustlers, stage robbers and gun men on the run from more populated areas. After the EarpClanton shoot-out in Tombstone, the survivors of the Clanton gang came to Apache County, which was ideally suited to their profession. Lawmen were busy elsewhere; Round Valley was a sea of gramma grass on which stolen horses and cattle could fatten after their brands had been "doctored"; the White Mountains contained countless hiding places. Among the more colorful residents of Round Valley were the Snider Gang, who killed nine of their own members during a dispute on a hill behind the Eagar cemetery. The Westbrooks murdered James Hall on the streets of Springerville because they "wanted to see if a bullet would go through a Mormon." A. F. Banta, an early day legislator, once said, "I am no angel and have seen most of the tough towns of the West, but Springerville was the worst of them all."

Springerville was named in a peculiarly Western manner. Henry Springer was one of the town's leading merchants. He made the mistake of giving a large load of seed oats on credit to some men who proceeded to go broke. Springer lost all his money in the venture. A few of the town wits, as a gesture of sympathy, decided to name the town "Springerville."

In time, outlaws were run out of the country, sent to prison, or otherwise disposed of. The Mormon settlement grew under the protection of lawmen and government troops who controlled the Apaches. Springerville became popular as an outfitting center for sportsmen who fished and hunted in the White Mountains.