Characters and Cronies

STRIP CHARACTERS, STRIP CRONIES

People are fascinating. Like wild animals, they leave signs of their passing: their personalities, their stories, their work, their influence on a community or land. In a half-century of writing about people, I have found none more intriguing than the people of the Arizona Strip.

Passing this way were the very early Cliff Dwellers followed by the Hopis, Paiutes, Utes, and Navajos; and then came the explorers, cartographers, pioneers, settlers, biologists, botanists, and writers, and perhaps the most colorful of all, Real American Cowboys. Each left his sign to arouse the curiosity of others.

Bullhide's Ranch House

A raw, wet snowstorm blew down off the Kaibab, obliterating track, trail, and roads in House Rock Valley. We were somewhere in a 44,000-acre triangle bounded on the south by the Grand Canyon and the Colorado River, on the north by the Vermilion Cliffs, and on the west by Kaibab Mountain. We were lost!

Humpy Dixon, heading up the skinners and quarterers of buffalo, said to Gus Evers, driving the Arizona Game and Fish Commission's truck, "Point her upgrade, Gus, and we'll run into a line fence. Turn right and follow it to Bullhide's Kane Ranch House."

In the cab, the three of us shivered from the deep cold. Gus, a veteran of Verdun in WW I, was a fatalist. Humpy, a mavericker out of Texas, had survived many a blue norther. But I, not only cold, was apprehensive!

What was I doing here, a churn-twisting farm boy out of Iowa?

In August of the previous year, I had been hired by Kenner Kartchner, director of the Arizona Game and Fish Commission, to set up a division of information and education. Now, six months later, I was in charge of the sale of buffalo at the annual culling of Arizona's buffalo herd, in a place I had never seen on a road map.

Meat rationing, beginning with World War II, may have been responsible for the large numbers of people at the hunt. Some 20 hunters had drawn permits. And each one was entitled to a quarter of the carcass, plus the head and the robe. The other three quarters were for sale: the hinds for 16 cents a pound and the fronts for 14 cents a pound.

Hunting buffalo in Arizona got its start in the early 1900s, when Charles J. (Buffalo) Jones, decided to do something about the huge cattle losses incurred throughout the West during the devastating blizzard of 1886-1887.

The tragedy sired the idea in Buffalo Jones' head to cross the surviving American bison with cattle.

Fortunately, a remnant of 1500 of an estimated 60 million bison, which had roamed the Western plains in the early 1800s, had survived, a portion of which were on the Charles Goodnight Ranch in Texas. Buffalo Jones acquired some, brought them to Greenland Point, on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and later moved them into House Rock Valley to crossbreed with cattle.

With the buffalo came Texas cowboys: Uncle Jimmy Owens, Charlie Lewis, Ernie Appling, and Bob Vaughn. I was to become well acquainted with the latter three before I hung my last quarter of buffalo.

And so there I was, a long way away from a typewriter, in the middle of House Rock Valley, on the Arizona Strip, where southern Utah laps over onto northern Arizona. I was lost in a blizzard blowing down out of the Kaibab and about to plunge off into the real world of cowboys and Indians, something I had only read about.

That first night, as our truck floundered through the deepening snow, the snorting engine and the men pounding the sides of the vehicle competed with Humpy for our attention.

"Charlie Lewis and I came off the Kaibab on a night like this. When we dropped the packs, he never said a word, but he give me his Dutch ovens an' he quit! He never rolled his bed out again!"

Humpy had been a brush popper in the Hill Country in Texas before coming to

North Rim, Grand Canyon

Severed from its more popular southern counterpart by 215 highway miles, the Grand Canyon's North Rim exists in peaceful isolation. Only 216,267 visitors made the trip last year, compared to 2,260,183 for the South Rim. At 8000 feet, the weather is cool, the air clear. And beyond the precipice looms that awesome fantasyland, the Grand Canyon.

(Clockwise, from below) A ranger-naturalist lectures to visitors at Cape Royal. Picturesque Grand Canyon Lodge. Greenland Lake in late June. Angel's Window, Cape Royal.

CHARACTERS & CRONIES

Text continued from page 2 Arizona. His horse had plunged after a brush-splitting maverick. Humpy failed to duck in time. A mesquite limb bigger than Humpy swept him out of the saddle and broke his back, leaving him with a hump. Hence his handle. I never did learn Humpy's front name.

I already knew Charlie Lewis by reputa-tion and some memorable correspondence.

Bill Connors, chairman of the Arizona Game and Fish Commission, had gasped in disbelief when he learned the department was paying the aged cowpuncher $25 a month to ride herd on Arizona's 200 buffalo and their annual calf crop.

"Raise him to $50 a month," commanded Bill. So, I wrote the commission order. The other two members voted the 100 percent salary increase.

And then Charlie Lewis wrote back.

A letter penciled on a piece of grade school tablet paper accompanied his $25 check, payable to the Arizona Game and Fish Commission. He had returned the raise! Two poignant sentences said. "I'm not worth any more. I'm too old."

Gus, following Humpy's direction to drive upgrade, soon ran into the line fence, a turn to the right and the lights of the ranch house.

Kane Ranch House, a two-room cabin built out of hewn logs, served as a headquarters for Royal B. Wooley's communal allotment, which he shared with Bob Vaughn, John Schoppmann, and other grazers of House Rock Valley. The front door was never locked; the latch string always hung out. When we arrived, the two-room cabin was crammed with men, a few women, and two Navajo families.

I stepped up on the porch to meet Floppy (for his big ears) Griffith coming out of the door. Floppy had been doing the cooking, but Wooley had just put him out to drift.

John Schoppmann had taken over the stove, building coffee, rolling biscuits, and flapping his lip. The taciturn Ernie Appling was cussing the dudes, as he served them John's cowboy steaks and heifers' delight. Before the night was over, we would be well acquainted. John had talent. He could make three kinds of gravy in one skillet: thick, thin, and lumpy.

As a friendly gesture, Mel Schoppmann, John's son, introduced me formally, with some adjectives, to the boss man of Kane Ranch.

"Mister Wooley," says Mel, "This is Charley Niehuis. He's repping the game department." Then Mel turned to me, "Charley, this is Bullhide!"

I shook hands with our host, an enormous graying man, who I learned later came from a long line of Utah and Arizona pioneers.

Mel explained what I was doing on the game department's truck, thankfully dressing it up a bit. Wooley's face broke into a wide, toothy grin.

"I'm glad to know you, Gut Wagon!" he said, and turned to the people cramming his cabin, "Folks, meet Gut Wagon Charley. He's with the game department. If any of you want to buy a quarter of buffalo, Gut Wagon here is your man."

Mister Wooley, apparently, had given me a handle-and put his stamp of approval on me. And since it had Bullhide's brand on it, it has stuck for more than 35 unforgettable years. (Wooley got his own handle from a cowpuncher named Adams, who broke wild horses. Adams rode so many gut-twisters, he had to belt his kidneys in place with a wide cowhide belt, which he wore hair-side out. He was known as Cowhide Adams. Since Cowhide worked for Wooley, the salutation Bullhide was soon applied to the big tough ramrod.) Bullhide set me down at the table and roared to Ernie, "Feed him!"

Ernie gave me a set-up, knife and fork and a cup of John's famous black coffee. John, himself, handed me a plateful of cowboy-fried steak, biscuits, and gravy. He also gave me a grin and passed out Alone, some of them came to the Strip to herd buffalo at the ranch in House Rock Valley, others to spend their lives building beef empires on the vast, empty miles of grazing land, or herding growing bands of tourists. Others just became cowboys and gave little thought to what tomorrow might bring, as long as there was blue sky, a horse to ride, and three decent meals a day (most times). Together, they are a composite of the men who tamed the Arizona Strip Country. They, like their land, are somewhat apart from the ordinary. (Center photo, from left) After 40 and more years on the Strip: Hualapai Johnny Nelson, Mel Schoppmann, Cowhide Adams, and Hades Church at Schoppmann's ranch in House Rock Valley.

the first one of his colorful expressions: "Stay right there, Gut Wagon," he said, "and I'll pad out those wrinkles in your belly." Well-oiled with whiskey, John wagged his tongue at both ends. He was at his best that night, letting his Western social commentary flow out over the skillets, pans, and plates of food. He kept the people at his table in an uproar.

Floppy Griffith, who had come inside again, was now sitting close to the warming fire built by the Navajos. He was eating boiled sheep meat out of a gallon pail which was sitting on a bed of coals.

The aging Charlie Lewis got crowded out of his easy chair. Then Bullhide put the rest of the Navajos outside, where they built a larger fire out of Bullhide's stove wood.

Since everybody was calling me Gut Wagon, I stayed as one of the select few who could call Bullhide by his first name, except the following morning. Then I said, Mister Wooley, like everybody else.

Among those left was Ol' Ben Wilmont, who had more wrinkles in his horns than anybody else. He also wore a gun, but nobody had ever seen him draw it.

CHARACTERS & CRONIES

Then Bullhide shooed us out, too, closed the door, and for the first time, pulled the latch string in. He'd had enough of everybody.

So, I picked up my Montana bedroll, carried it down to Humpy's tent, split my soogans three down, and went to bed. That ended the first day of the 1943 buffalo hunt and my first introduction to some of the memorable people of the Arizona Strip.

Tuffy Swope

Tuffy Swope impressed me. When he was drafted for WW II, the physician examining him said, "You got one shoulder lower than the other. Why?"

"I was riding a horse and got bucked off, knocked it down a few inches."

Then X-rays were taken, and they revealed some broken ribs that had healed. "What happened here?" asked the doctor. "I got bucked off, and my horse stepped on me."

Then when Tuffy was asked to walk and do deep knee bends, the doctor discovered Tuffy's feet did not track straight. "Yeah, that! Got bucked off, and my horse kicked me. Then the doctor leaned back and asked, "Did you ever ride one?"

Well, Tuffy had, even running horses in motion pictures. His mount would be tripped at full gallop to fall in camera range. The tripped horse would then turn tail over head, sending Tuffy flying. The stunt men hired to do the dangerous stunts had protested doing that kind of trick. So the motion picture company people asked Tuffy if he'd do it for $20 a fall. Surprised, Tuffy said, "Hell! All the time I thought they were doing it for fun!"

Characters and Cronies A Strip Country Cowboy Glossary

by Charles C. Niehuis BLUE NORTHER: Oklahoma and north Texas term for an extremely cold storm or blizzard blowing down out of the north.

BRUSH POPPER: Cowboy who specializes in punching or herding cattle in brushy, hardscrabble country. Such cowboys were recognizable in earlier days by the clothing they wore and by their gear. They usually wore heavy leather chaps for leg protection and their jackets were usually of heavy denim cloth. Their hats were narrower of brim than that of the northern cowboy. A brush popper was as streamlined as he could get.

BULLHIDE: The thick hide of a bull. Used as a nickname for a person who is aggressive, tough, and whose feelings are not easily hurt. The bossman or ramrod of an outfit.

CATTALO: The hybrid produced by crossing cattle with bison, or buffalo.

CHURN TWISTER: A farm boy who often has the job of making butter out of a churn full of cream. The four-paddle dasher, worked up and down, is turned a quarter of a turn, back and forth, with each downward stroke.

COWBOY COFFEE: Coffee made by a cowboy or cattleman is usually boiled in a big pot or kettle. There are a number of ways of making it. Most common is to drop handsful of freshly ground coffee into a pot, add water, and bring it to a rolling boil. It is then moved from the hot spot on the stove to a warm place and allowed to drop back to a simmer, or just stay hot.

GUT STRING: Slang term describing a lariat made of braided rawhide. A gut string lariat is longer than one made

CHARACTERS & CRONIES Charlie Lewis

A few years later, in 1948, I repped the Arizona Game and Fish Commission for the shooting of She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. Arizona's buffalo were to be used as a background for the film starring John Wayne.

The movie people were transported by chartered bus between House Rock Valley and Art Greene's Marble Canyon Lodge, where they stayed.

I preferred to go to Kane Ranch, where I could spend time with Charlie Lewis.

Charlie, who had turned down the $25a-month raise mentioned earlier, was a master of a disappearing Western art form: the preparation and braiding of rawhide.

Charlie and I spent an afternoon together. He showed me how a steer hide was selected, softened, and cut into a continuous quarter-inch-wide strip 50-feet long; how it was sized to a certain thickness,made pliable, stretched, and finally braided. Braided rawhide could be fashioned into bullwhips, lariats (gut string lassoes), bridles, halters, and quirts.

He formed the handles of the whips or quirts around a wooden stock. One end he'd finish with a Turk's head, a double Turk's head, a crown, a double crown, a rose, or whatever you wanted.

Charlie could braid a 12-foot-long bullwhip and taper it down to a three-eighthsinch wide tip ending in an 18-inch lash. Or, he could braid a 30 or 40-foot-long gut string and keep it an even three-eighths of an inch the entire length. The whips, the quirts, and the gut strings were samples of a rawhiders art developed to a high degree of skill.

Charlie was proud of his work. He asked a dollar for a quirt that had an accumulation of several days work in it. And he sold the whips and the rawhide lariats for a dollar a foot.

Out of three-strand hard twisted hemp, or in recent years, out of nylon. Early cowboys and Mexican vaqueros used the gut string.

GUT WAGON: A sturdy wagon that followed the men who hunted buffalo and antelope for the market, and to supply the builders of cross-country railroads.

JINGLE HORSES: Usually the first job a boy has on a cattle ranch. The chore of finding and gathering up the saddle and pack animals, one of which may be belled. "Ride out and jingle up them horses."

LINE FENCE: A fence that defines the boundary between two cattle companies or a private holding and state or federally owned land. If a line fence hasn't got a gate in it, it is an indication the owners don't do much visiting.

REPPED OR REPPED: Acting as a representative of a company, organization, or brand on somebody else's range.

SET UP A HORSE: Bringing a running horse to a sudden and sometimes sliding stop. You pull the reins up hard, the horse sets its front legs, and puts his hind feet under him.

SOOGANS: Blankets or quilts stacked on a ground cloth. This type of bed was used before air mattresses. A Montana bed roll was a stack of blankets or quilts of more than three. A cowboy rolled his bed when he quit or moved to ride with another outfit.

SPLITTING YOUR SOOGANS: The act of going to bed. You split your soogans one, two, or three down depending upon how cold it was. The ground cloth was also called a tarp or bed tarp. The canvas protected your bedding and personal belongings which were wrapped inside when you made a pack trip.

WRINKLES IN HIS HORNS: As a bull matures, or a bighorn sheep ages, the years of passage can be estimated by the rings in its horns, as rings in a tree trunk. The more wrinkles, the older the bearer is.

CHARACTERS & CRONIES

One of the few existing photographs of Uncle Jimmy Owens, right, renowned mountain lion hunter and guide on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Zane Grey based his novel The Last of the Plainsmen on Owens' life. U.S. Forest Service photo courtesy of Charles C. Niehuis

John Schoppmann

In all the years after the buffalo hunt, I never drove past House Rock Valley Store without stopping and spending a little time because John Schoppmann was usually there.

"Get off your feet, Gut Wagon; give 'em a rest," he'd say.

John did not make a pot of coffee; he built one! The big granite pot was always on the back of the kitchen stove. To make more, he just added coffee by the handful and some more water. When he could not pour two cupfuls out of the pot, he emptied the grounds and started over.

"I put a big handful in for the feller who likes it strong, a small one for my friends who like it thin. That way, everybody is happy."

The granite pot was never washed. It just grew in character.

As he poured me a cupful, he looked at the contents. It was black, oily, and hot.

"It looks like it was made in a drought year." He sipped his. "Maybe it should be freshened up? But it's good. It'll make your eyeballs stick in your head."

One day, he said, "I got up as early as my neighbors did this year. I wanted to brand my own calves, with my brand!"

His calves were round as barrels, leading John to say, "They're so fat this fall, they're leavin' grease in their tracks."

10/Arizona Highways Magazine

Hayden S. (Hades) Church

A foot of snow lay on the ground of the Moquitch Deer Hunting Camp run by Hades Church of Fredonia, Arizona, and Kanab, Utah. The storm blowing in promised to turn into a blizzard.

It was very late in the afternoon, and darkness was filling the canyon where the camp was located. The cook shack and various cabins were already throwing beams of yellow kerosene lamplight through the windows and onto the white snow.

Hades and I were near the corral, catching up the horses as the dude hunters brought them in. Some of the horses had been ridden hard and, in spite of the snow and chilling wind, they were steaming with sweat and all lathered up.

One fat man rode in and literally fell out of the saddle. When he turned his gray mare over to me, she was breathing heavily.

I untied the cinches and pulled the heavy saddle off. Then I took the saddle blanket off. It was warm and wet with lather. As cold as it was, lather also stood out on the mare's shoulders and flanks.

I grabbed a gunny sack and prepared to wipe her dry, as Hades walked up and slipped the bridle off and a halter on. Whether or not Hades did it for me or not, I do not know. But, he may have had a deep feeling for that spent mare, standing there with her head down, in the falling snow. Suddenly Hades threw his arms around her neck, his voice quivering, "Nellie," he said to the mare, "forgive me for renting you out to those dudes, but I got to make a living someway." He paused, then added, "I know I'll never get to Heaven."

With that he added a bigger handful of oats to the measure he had poured out, dumping it into the feed bag and lifting it up to put the loop over the mare's head.

Then he led her slowly to the corral, dropped the bar, and let her in where the other horses were standing and eating.

Marguerite

Howard Borneman, U.S. predatory animal hunter stationed on the Strip, and Slim Lathim, Arizona game ranger, were taking me and my son, David, down into North Canyon on horseback. The trail down into the canyon is steep and has many switchbacks. We had gone halfway, when Borneman, who was in the rear but didn't need a telephone to communicate, yelled down at Slim leading the procession.

"Hold it Slim. We've gotta tighten that back cinch on Marguerite."

My son's saddle was way up on the mule's neck. A mule does not have big withers like a horse, so a double cinch is used on a mule saddle (in addition to other straps) to keep it from sliding for-ward onto the mule's neck.

Slim dismounted and climbed back along the trail to make the adjustment.

Borneman, watching, yelled again, "Put it way back Slim, and cinch 'er up tight."

Saddle horses and mules are sensitive to having the back cinch too far back or pulled too tight. They sometimes start bucking.

Slim, aware of this, replied, "She might buck the kid off."

"Naw!" snorted Borneman, "Put it all the way back. You can get familiar with Marguerite!"

Now I wish I could conclude all of this. But I can't. Not yet anyway. I cut too much sign on that last buffalo hunt out of Bullhide's Kane Ranch in 1943.

Now I have to finish back-trailing Bob Vaughn, Jack Butler, Bullhide Wooley, Hades Church, Cowhide Adams, and John and Mel Schoppmann... some of the fascinating people of the Arizona Strip.

Charles C. Niehuis has published in Arizona Highways Magazine since 1938, and he's plied the trade of free-lance writer for more than 50 years. Niehuis lives in Penn Valley, California.

Virgin River Gorge

Interstate Highway 15 through the Virgin River Gorge in northwestern Arizona holds the title of “one of the most spectacular engineering feats in the rural interstate system” also one of the most expensive. Construction crews battled difficult terrain sheer walls and narrow twisting river channel constantly threatened by rock falls, quicksand, and flash floods. Seven bridges allow the four-lane superhighway to crisscross the Virgin River. One of the bridges, 1500 feet long, spans a bend so sharp it begins and ends on the same side of the channel. One fourmile-long segment of I-15 cost an incredible $4.4 million per mile a record for the most expensive section of rural highway (excluding tunnels) in the interstate system.