Sedona

She's a real sprite, that Sedona, mincin' along in that coquettish way of hers; painted up; always lookin' for a good time; flashin' that smile and that "pleased t' meetcha" look.

But she's a lady, no mistakin' that, either. She's got class. Comes from the best people; you know . . . one of the old line. Knows the best folks; minds her manners. But she's no snob. No, sir. Not a bit stuffy nor lookin' down her nose at anythin'. Must be hard, when you have it all all that scenery; all that perfect weather not to start put-tin' on airs or doin' somethin' to botch it up. But she's not that sort.

She's got that optimism that seems to keep her young. It's like . . . well . . . she's not afraid to take a chance or to make a change. But then, she's not the kind to be flighty, either.

And there's somethin' else about her Grace. There's an air of grace, I guess you'd call it.

Sedona. The Lady of the Red Rocks.

With just a hint of the risqué and enough of a past to give her a little pizazz. But a lady she is. Full-bosomed, ripe, and at the same time retaining a youthful vigor, she draws the imagination to a way of life which has all but been forgotten.

There in Arizona's famous Red Rock Country, at the southern end of Oak Creek Canyon, she spreads her fancy skirts, paints her cheeks, and welcomes them all all the artists, writers, movie-makers and industrialists, retirees and schoolteachers, cowboys and tourists who find their way to her door. Whether they're among the 9000 permanent residents or the 2 million visitors passing through her hands each year, they speak with love and respect of the little town.

It's obvious, too, what brings them here. Take Richard Riley, for instance. "We drove through on our way to the Grand Canyon four years ago and stopped for about 15 minutes. Went on to the Canyon, then went home to Michigan, sold our house and came back to stay."

What brought him back, specifically?

"All this."

His nod included the vastness of the scene spread below the jeep he drives as part of John and Mary Ann Min-nick's Pink Jeep Tour force. This was the massive red sandstone buttes rising flat-topped and abruptly out of the red earth among the Arizona cypress, the cedars and ponderosas and manzanita. This was the autumn sun shining with a pale glare off the creek which wound its way beneath golden cottonwoods. And this was the mountain range and rim country stiffly risen immediately to the north. This was the Sedona landscape in all its subtle, explosive magnificence.

If you hold out your hand, cup it deeply, and then tilt it so it slants toward you, it will resemble nothing so much as a great, wrinkled bowl of the Canyon. Where the fingers join the palm, Sedona nestles quietly into the lower end of Oak Creek Canyon, slashed into the southern margin of the Colorado Plateau and merged into the northern reaches of the Verde River Valley. It has a pleasant country highway that makes a great tour of the valley then circles up and around the long meadows on the lower slopes of Mingus Mountain. Then it climbs sharply over a ridge and is gone into the tree-studded slopes of the country beyond, leaving the little, almost-hidden place, to its own devices.

About 15 years ago, Sedona was a small, unincorporated place with a population of 1200, retaining much the same pace and atmosphere as when it was founded in 1902. The days and the seasons moved along with an unhurried gait. In the past decade, the little town has grown in much the same way: it has retained the slow pace and the understated, quiet, Western atmosphere.

When Bob Bradshaw, photographer and writer, arrived from the Midwest in 1946, Sedona was "just a wide place in a pretty rough road.

"It had one grocery, a little post office and 300 population. The land wasn't worth anything. No water. No industry. There were ranches of all sizes and farmers with fruit and small truck crops. What little water there was had to be hauled up from the creek bottom."

But deep water wells went in in 1948, and by 1950, people began more and more frequently to find their way to Sedona. The way wasn't easy that was before the freeway went in over at Black Canyon, and the trip from Phoenix wound tediously through Wickenburg, Prescott, and Camp Verde.

Today the town is an intriguing mixture of tiny summer cottages set back among the cedars, well-groomed luxury homes which blend into their rocky promontories or hug the red earth with an eye to inconspicuous living, and starkly modern structures which at the same time hold well the Western flavor of the earlier buildings. Residents, visitors, and even those passing through sense a simple air, a down-to-earth hominess that contrasts with the elegance and polish of more urbanized locales.

But Sedona's tranquil mien gives little indication of the behind-the-scenes vitality and enthusiasm that bubble along and keep the town growing in its well-supervised manner.

You see, all the folks in Sedona feel that they have a personal responsibility(Right) Pink Jeep Tours has been providing direct, easy access to Sedona's backcountry for several years. Dick Canby(Below) Sedona at sunset. The town boasts little neon and noise; behind-

the-scenes vitality and enthusiasm keep the town alive and growing. J. Peter Mortimer (Bottom) Multi-million-dollar Poco Diablo Resort in Sedona commands a setting which offers all the amenities plus an inspiring view in all directions. Bob Bradshaw to keep things from getting out of hand. A few years ago, a small group of volunteers came together, adopted the slogan "Keep Sedona Beautiful" and set out to do just that. Their first selfappointed chores included picking up litter along the highways and in the picnic and camping areas, and suggesting a control of the size and design of business signs in town. Their influence has grown to become felt in every area of planning and zoning, through the presentation of awards each year for the best building and the finest examples of landscaping in town. Sedona is crosshatched by groups of volunteers doing hardcore civic work. Eighty percent of the population is made up of retired, fairly substantial people who have chosen this beautiful place as home and who have time for service work. They recognize the inevitability of growth; some predict 20,000 people in 20 years.

"There's no way to stop it." William Garland, whose sons now run Garland's Lodge, sipped at a cup of his wife Georgiana's coffee, scratched Bud's ears as the big Doberman lay down beside the office desk, and went on talking with an assured pride about his hometown."The best thing for the future and for the community is to direct that growth; to plan ahead. There's not an empty store in town, and you've seen how far down the valley West Sedona extends. We're all concerned that Sedona grows to the rich potential she has."

Oh, there are problems, even with all the individual and collective enthusiasm, hard work, and know-how. Sewage is a chief concern. Incorporation problems must be smoothed out. A law or two must be changed to allow incorporation over a county line because Sedona is bisected by the Yavapai and Coconino county line.

Every weekday morning, school buses carry children in different directions. Some secondary students make the 30-mile trip north through Oak Creek Canyon, up the switchbacks and through the snow, to Flagstaff high schools; the others, across the line in Yavapai County, attend school in the warmer environs of Cottonwood. Grade schools? There are two. Both in town; both in different counties.

Coconino and Red Rock (Yavapai) taxpayers' groups are strong entities for decision-making and the Sedona Chamber of Commerce has a solid voice in community affairs. Citizen volunteers act as watchdogs in areas of growth, and a nucleus of old-time businessmen have informal get-togethers when occasion warrants.

Bob Bradshaw, long-time Arizona Highways contributor, has served as liaison, stand-in, and movie extra for virtually every movie and television company that has selected the scenic Sedona Valley for shooting. Discovered by Hollywood in 1924, Red Rock Country has since served as the backdrop in a long list of movies and, more recently, TV commercials. Bob Bradshaw On the surface, Sedona sounds like any small town caught in the throes of growth and development. But there is another element which must be considered to understand the unique quality of the little place tucked away so quietly among the cedars and decorated with summer's blue lupine and Indian paintbrush. It is a mecca for working artists of every genre.

Hollywood discovered Red Rock Country in 1924, and since that time, a long list of movies has been ground out with the magnificent Arizona landscape serving as backdrop. The Rounders, 3:10 to Yuma, Broken Arrow, The Cowboy and the Redhead are mere samples of well-known Sedona-based titles. From the land of high-rise coastal condominiums and acres of commercial developments and controlled recreation, countless companies arrive to shoot television commercials among the great buttes and in the red dust along the banks of Oak Creek at the edge of town.

"I don't think we've missed a beer company or a cigarette commercial, yet," mumbled the taciturn Bob Bradshaw, who serves as liaison, stand-in, movie extra for every company that chooses the scenic valley for movie and television shooting.

Sedona boasts no brawl of neon or noise. Places intensely urban, cacophonous, swarming with jangled nerves and cluttered souls lie far beyond the imagination in this small Western place.

Life rests easily upon the land and the people, and a creative spirit touches those who observe the serene, almost pastoral quality of its stillness.

A fragile, luminescent moment touches day's end and highlights the extraordinary patience of things. A last flare of sunset rouges the red buttes an even deeper hue. Winter twilight comes early and steals along the erratic design of streets with a startling silence.

In this place where Nature's handiwork is an integral part of man's urbanization, it seems incongruous that a broad band of worldly sophistication would be woven through the entire fabric of daily living. But it is there as surely as the Art Barn will open for another season, or the Red Rock News will discuss Sedona Miller Schnebly's role in the naming of the little town, or the valley's proximity to some of the world's most exciting natural wonders will be ballyhooed again to each group of tourists stopping long enough for a chat.

Those in search of a place to exercise an artistic bent early found that the elegant solitude of Sedona lent another dimension to their creative lives, and a few decades ago, the area became an artists' colony. Writers, painters, sculptors daub, peck, and pound away in studios of every description, and the Sedona Art Center reaps the benefits of outstanding local shows, private classes, and seminars directed by the talented folks.

The Sedona Art Center, an artists' and craftsmen's guild, is the only cultural organization in the entire area, and as such, the responsibility is keenly felt. The Center offers experience in drama, music, painting, sculpture, ceramics, photography, stained glass, and quilting.

Lucy Banks and her husband moved to Sedona from New Jersey some eight years ago and since that time, Lucy has been a hard-working volunteer at what is commonly referred to as "The Barn."

"Soon after I arrived, I called Ann Ogden and asked if a nonmember might participate. She invited me to visit the Arts Center and from that time, I've been hooked." Lucy now is director of The Barn.

"I haven't wondered what to do with my time only how to use it best to help an organization I am convinced serves an overall cultural need in a somewhat isolated Sedona that is fast becoming a major arts center in the Southwest, U.S.A."

What began as the dream of sculptor Nassan Gobran in 1950, when he arrived from his native Egypt, has developed into a center whose influence is felt throughout the Southwest, through the efforts of a large group of volunteers giving lavishly of their time and talents.

From the surrealistic works of Max Ernst to the cowboy art of Jim Reynolds, Frank McCarthy, and Joe Beeler, Sedona can show the most prestigious of works.

At Oma and Lee Bird's Oak Creek Tavern in July, 1965, the Cowboy Artists of America was founded by George Phippen, Charlie Dye, John Hampton, Joe Beeler, and Fred Harmon.

Small music ensembles - from chamber music to jazz performances - keep the old apple-packing barn crowded; studios and classrooms, galleries and dance rehearsals insure interest and industry for all.

Now, don't get the idea that the Lady of the Red Rocks suddenly appeared full-grown, sporting plans for expansion and all dressed up in her 20th century finery. Ask Albert Thompson. His parents took squatters rights up at Indian Gardens in 1876, and Albert has seen a few things, all right.

For years; the Pink Jeep Tours has built and maintained backcountry trails for 22 years, and Lovey Munday has been a faithful driver for 9 of those years. The natives don't go away. They stay and extend a quiet welcome to the newcomers. "What is a Sedona?" asked Vic Walton in a column in a special edition of Red Rock News. It is a group of volunteers turning a hand to the running of their town, trying to preserve the old values of strength and integrity, while making plans for creative growth. There is something self-preserving about the charm and beauty of the area for it is a near-perfect retreat from the pressures and tensions of the world's great marketplaces.

But there are many places dripping with natural beauty and the quiet of the ages; many places with good golf courses, racquet clubs, garden and Elks clubs, parades and rodeos, art galleries and nature trails, carnivals and running events.

Sedona is more. It is a place of renewal.

Birds swarm, nesting in the pine and cedar forest along the creek banks and in the chaparral of the mountain slopes, and the land is loud with the cries of quail scuttling through the underbrush. Small animals and rattlesnakes come out from whatever dark recesses they have inhabited. A gentle restraint falls upon the inhabitants of the community in the Red Rocks and many a gaze wanders from the business at hand up toward the massive buttes rising at the edge of town.

Indeed, it lacks the sine qua non of any progressive, up-and-growing, selfrespecting American municipality: a business district filled with the glittering splendor of flashing bulbs and neon tubing.

So it is that when dusk gently flows over the ridge above the highest homes on the slopes and down through the streets, the town reflects the quiet and subdued attitudes of her people and retains the soft and lovely atmosphere with which she began.

During the course of two centuries, the men and women who explored, settled, and exploited the land left their marks on it in many ways. When Ellsworth Schnebly offered the name of his sister-in-law, Sedona, for the new post office in 1902, he said it stood as an example of high character as well as "rich inner fortitude that was both compassionate and sensitive."

Sedona is all that. But it also is vast, awesome, and filled with fantasy and stimulating thoughts of nature's magnificence. There is time to work and to reflect, to plan and to dream, to put a hand to the task and to sense the timelessness of the quiet moments that measure the greatness of man.