The Past Lives at the Arizona Historical Society, 1884-1984

THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES THE 0. K. Short Order and Dyster Parlor THE PAST LIVES AT THE ARIZONA HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 1884-1984

March 20, 1880. The Southern Pacific Railroad has at last reached the small d desert town of Tucson, Arizona. Beside the tracks on a bunting-draped platform sit the top railroad officials and the town's distinguished citizens. Cannon boom; the military band from Fort Lowell enlivens the proceedings; and the oratory begins. It is time for tough old frontiersman William S. Oury to deliver the speech of the day, and he expresses deep sadness for all his pioneer friends throughout the Territory of Arizona. "Our mission is ended today," he says. "Our last request is that you kindly avoid trampling in the dust the few remaining monuments of the first American settlements in Arizona." For Oury and his fellow old-timers, pioneer days are over with the arrival of the iron horse. Today, looking back over a hundred years, Arizona in the early 1880s does not seem a particularly orderly and civilized place. The six-shooter is still judge and juryin many personal disputes. Thieves still roam the highways (the Black Canyon stage in the country north of Phoenix is robbed four times in 1884). Murder continues to outrage the peaceful citizens, and the peaceful citizens respond by lynching the suspected but unconvicted murderers. Law and order in dependable quantities have not yet come to Arizona Territory. The pioneers, however, are not thinking about the security of life and property. They are feeling overwhelmed by the rush of newcomers and fearful that the "hardships and vicissitudes" they endured are undervalued and about to be forgotten. They will need four more years after Bill Oury's speech to get organized, but on a chilly January evening in 1884, they take action. They found the Society of Arizona Pioneers, today's Arizona Historical Society, the oldest cultural institution in the state and still one of the more vigorous. The event is engineered by Kentuckian Charles D. Poston, the Territory's most ambitious and most frustrated promoter and politician, later known as the Father of Arizona. He discusses the idea of a pioneer society with his friends at various places, including the Congress Hall Saloon, and all agree now is the time. Using the clubroom of the Palace Hotel on Meyer Street in downtown Tucson as an office, Poston puts together a list of immigrants who arrived in Arizona before the railroad and sends out 500 invitations. His "call" reads in part: All those in favor of forming a Pioneer Association of historical and humanitarian purposes are requested to meet at the Palace Hotel, Tucson, on the last day of January, 1884, at 6 o'clock P.M.

The invitations bring an enthusiastic response. Over 100 pioneers send regrets, but 145 gather in the gaily decorated dining room of the Palace on the last day of January. Calm prevails until a committee presumes to fix the date of arrival which will define the true pioneer. Then all goodwill disappears. Some favor 1870 as the cut-off date; some vote for 1880, when the railroad arrived; Poston wants July 4, 1876, the centennial year. The final vote is taken at a second meeting, and 1870 wins. Frustrated and resentful, Poston demands that his name be stricken from the roll and stalks from the hall. About a hundred men who arrived after 1870 walk out with him. He never comes back into the fold, but in 1885 he graciously accepts honorary membership, and the society points to him as its founder.

What were those pioneers like? William S. Oury, the first president, was a good example. Virginia born, he had arrived in Arizona from California after service in the Mexican War and with the Texas Rangers. During the Civil War he sided with the South but made his peace with the Yankees afterward and joined them in managing the town and the Territory. Painful experience had made him a violent Indian hater, and in 1871 he had served as co-leader of a party of Papagos, Anglos, and Mexican-Americans which obliterated an Apache encampment, slaughtering mostly old men and women, in what came to be known as the Camp Grant Massacre. Oury was as uncompromising with his white enemies, having killed two of them in duels in Tucson. His fellow officers and his board of directors had had similar records and were men of similar character.The founders had a pretty clear idea of what sort of organization they wanted and why they wanted it. First, they yearned for a memorial to themselves-"to perpetuate the memory of those whose sagacity, energy, and enterprise induced themto settle in the wilderness." (Historical societies throughout the West were founded in the same spirit.) In the second place, they wanted a benevolent and protective society like the Odd Fellows and the Elks and the Eagles. The Grand Army of the Republic, to which many of them belonged, followed the same pattern. It was the way to go in 1884. They called each other Brother; they attended funerals en masse; they took care of widows and orphans. At public ceremonials such as Cinco de Mayo [Mexican Independence Day] and Memorial Day, they marched in formation, behind the flag and the society banner.Those old Indian fighters, miners, and merchants could not have imagined what their society would be like in a hundred years, and it was probably just as well that they could not see very far ahead. They had problems enough in those early times without worrying about the future.

Their great problem was the pioneers themselves. They hated coming to monthly meetings, for one thing, and often no business could be transacted for want of a quorum of seven members.

They also resisted paying dues. Several times prominent members were expelled or suspended until they paid up. There was no apparent cure for the disease, and for the first 50 years of its existence, the society had money problems.

To make matters worse, membership shrank year by year. The constitution stated firmly the 1870 admission date could not be changed, which meant that, in modern terms, the society was programmed to self-destruct when the last true pioneer passed on. It was something of a miracle it survived to undergo the transformations which came later.

One reason the society hung together and held out was the pioneers' love of parties. They refused to be bored by business meetings, but they turned out almost to a man for a good celebration.

One of the special events which brought the members together was organized in November, 1887, to honor the hero of the hour, General Nelson A. Miles, who claimed credit for capturing Geronimo and removing the hostile Apaches from Arizona in 1886. The citizens of Tucson, with the pioneer society in the lead, arranged a great parade and reception for him, climaxed by the presentation of a magnificent ceremonial sword.

The pioneers marched beside the carriages of the honored guests to Levin's Park, where a huge crowd had gathered. The emotional high point came when Judge William A. Barnes, the orator of the day, admonished the general as he pre-sented the sword: "You shall not draw it at the command of any despot. In your hand it shall flash in defense of liberty and to maintain upon earth government of the

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people, by the people, and for the people."

Nothing to equal this experience happened to the society for a long time, but lesser celebrations occurred occasionally. And there was always the annual meeting, held for the first half-century on December 29, the day in 1863 when the first Territorial officers set foot on Arizona soil. It was always a gala affair. Wives and daughters provided a sumptuous supper, and dancing continued into the small hours.

There was a sad side to these reunions. The pioneers grew too old to enjoy dancing. Every year a few more were missing. Every year it was harder to meet the bills. Time was running out for the society, but the day was saved when the members agreed to petition the legislature for help. Obligingly, in 1897, the lawmakers approved disincorporation and permitted reincorporation with a new name, a revised constitution, and Territorial support. For the first biennium the Arizona Pioneers Historical Society received $3000, but even with such substantial help from the legislature, finances were always a problem.

One good sign at the turn of the century was the growing importance of the pioneer women. They had always been indispensable-raising money, providing food for the great events, keeping things going. They did not get around to organizing, however, until 1902. Larcena Pennington Scott, a heroine of Arizona who had been left for dead by raiding Indians in 1860, was the first president of the auxiliary, which for a few years restored some of its former brilliance to the annual meeting. By 1910, however, the organization had ceased to function.

In other ways, however, the women were making great progress. In 1915 Lucy Fries was admitted to membership with Lev, her miner husband. The constitution expressly limited membership to men, but probablythe voting members present on June 15 had not read the constitution.

Their action set an important precedent. In the 1920s women were accepted frequently, and in the 1930s they moved up into the management. In 1930 Clara Fish Roberts became a member of the board of directors, and in 1936 Georgie Scott Forbes, daughter of the heroic Larcena, began the first of her two terms as president. The sexist barrier had been shattered, but the men waited until 1947 to amend the constitution and make it official.

Meanwhile, as the 1920s came up on the calendar, the society again began showing signs of rigor mortis. President Monte Mansfeld, the popular Tucson Ford dealer, began his term with high hopes of reviving the society, but after a few months in office, he had to admit defeat. New leadership seemed to him the only answer, and just before he stepped down near the end of 1925, he appeared with his fellow officers, hat in hand, on the doorstep of Mrs. Edith Stratton Kitt, a leader in local and state women's clubs. Monte asked her to take charge of the pioneer society. "If you refuse," he assured her, "we will have to shut up shop."

Fortunately Mrs. Kitt did not refuse, and the shop stayed open.

Edith Kitt was something of a pioneer herself. She had grown up on a ranch in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains when Apaches were still raiding, but she had gone to college and become a teacher. After marrying English-born Tucson businessman George Kitt, she joined the Tucson Woman's Club and soon became known as a leader who got things done, rising through the ranks to the presidency of the State Federation of Women's Clubs.

Petite and modest, she nevertheless had great presence and dignity and was almost irresistible as a persuader, organizer, and money raiser. She put the Arizona Pioneers

Historical Society back on its feet.

For 25 years she presided over the library and museum under the University of Arizona stadium, adding to the collections, recording the reminiscences of every pioneer she could corner, welcoming scholars from all over the country, and even from abroad. In time her acquisitions overflowed her facilities, and it became necessary for the society to find a new and larger home. A finance committee went to work, and a campaign got under way to get a legislative appropriation.

Leading the fight in the legislature was Dr. Robert W. Forbes, a drylands specialist who had brought drought-resistant olives, date palms, and alfalfa to Arizona. In 1940 he was serving in the lower house and led the push for a major appropriation. Thanks to him, $175,000 was allo-cated on condition that an equal sum be raised from private contributions. The goal was met through the extraordinary generosity of a number of wealthy people. The children of pioneer Tucson merchant Albert Steinfeld presented $75,000 in memory of their parents. Banker Frank Brophy added $15,000 in memory of his parents, and smaller contributions made up the total. The university contributed a nine-year lease on land at the corner of Park Avenue and Second Street, across from the campus, and the society's first real home was opened on January 25, 1955. The building is the heart of the complex known today as the Arizona Heritage Center.

Mrs. Kitt retired in 1947 and passed the torch to Eleanor B. Sloan of Phoenix, daughter of the last Territorial governor, Richard E. Sloan, who carried on successfully until 1959. Yndia Smalley Moore succeeded her and held office during the explosion of activity which began in the 1960s.

The new deal followed the arrival in the 1960s of a young and aggressive group of men and women, many of whom were students and disciples of John A. Carroll, co-winner of a Pulitzer Prize, who joined the History Department at the university in 1958 and set a great many young people to dreaming, researching, and writing. Among them was Californian Ray Brandes, on his way to a Ph.D. in history, who took charge of the pioneers' museum. He and his colleagues lectured, taught, prowled the state for library and museum materials, and stirred the venerable society into unaccustomed activity.

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In spite of abrasions and contusions, notable advances were made. Arizoniana, later the Journal of Arizona History, edited by Moore and Brandes, began publication in 1960. In 1965 Odie B. Faulk was brought in to give new impetus to the book-publishing program. The first Arizona Historical Convention was put together in 1960 by Carroll, Brandes, anthropologist Bernard L. Fontana, and Bert M. Fireman of the Arizona Historical Foundation, based at Arizona State University in Tempe. All these men were active in organizing the State Landmarks Commission and the Historical Sites Commission, dedicated to the preservation of Arizona's heritage.

The surge forward continued when Princeton graduate Sidney B. Brinckerhoff, museum curator, replaced Yndia Moore as director in 1968. He presided over the transformations which continued through the 1970s, and initiated most of them.

Symbolic of the forward movement was a change in name. In 1971 the Arizona Pioneers Historical Society became the Arizona Historical Society. Some of the members hated to see the pioneers left out of their creation, but the society had, in fact, moved far beyond them. Any interested person was now eligible to join, but some stayed out because they could not claim connection with any Arizona pioneer. The organization belonged to all the people of the state-not just to a special group.

Progress was real enough, but it created new problems. Everything expanded, beginning with the membership. More materials came to the archives; more additions to the museum; more researchers to the library. Almost as soon as the new building opened in 1955, it began to be inadequate. The result was new construction in 1963-an auditorium with full basement at the eastern end of the building.

The added space helped, but it was not enough, and in 1975 a new and spacious addition, enclosing the original building on the north and west, was dedicated. By 1980 the cycle had repeated itself and space was at a premium again. Plans were ready for adding a second story to the auditorium, but funds were lacking as a result of the nationwide recession. Hoping for better days, the society tightened its belt and made do with what it had.

Special achievements balanced the difficulties. One was the participation of Apache leaders in the affairs of the society. Edgar Perry, heading the White Mountain Apache Culture Center, became a director of the society in 1973. A century after the Camp Grant Massacre, the hatchet was finally buried. Bill Oury would not have believed it could happen.

There were other milestones. A postal history museum, organized by William Alexander in 1960 as part of the society's programs, grew up, moved into its own building, and in 1977 affiliated with the society.

A reenactment of the second Juan Bautista de Anza colonizing expedition to California in 1775 was staged, with society sponsorship, as part of the national bicentennial celebration.

In 1978 a department of education was created to carry the message of Arizona history to the state and to the nation.

Most significant of all was a massive effort to decentralize the society and improve its outreach. Two local societies -in Yuma and Phoenix-became chapters in the state organization, each with its own board of directors and its own museum. The Rio Colorado Chapter (Yuma) and the Central Arizona Chapter (Phoenix) joined the Rio Santa Cruz Chapter, headquartered in Tucson. The first president living outside Tucson, Harry Montgomery of Phoenix, was elected in 1968. He presided over a board with statewide membership. In 1984 plans are ready for creating new chapters and for building a major new museum in Phoenix. The Arizona society's collections (books, newspapers, maps, manuscripts, photographs, artifacts), the largest in existence, are coming closer to full use as the long-range program for taking the history of Arizona to the people of Arizona gathers speed.

If Charles Poston and Bill Oury could come back and see the forest which has sprung from the seed they planted, they would be surprised. One hopes they would be pleased.

(LEFT) The Central Arizona Museum of History, the Phoenix branch of the Arizona Historical Society, maintains a valuable collection of 20th century Southwestern memorabilia at 1242 North Central Avenue. Lou Pardo photo (BELOW) The Historical Society's fullcolor 22 by 28-inch collectible poster by artist Don McQuiston is available by mail from: Territorial Mercantile Company, 949 East Second Street, Tucson, AZ 85719; $14.50 plus $2.50 postage.

C. L. Sonnichsen started teaching at the University of Texas at El Paso in 1931 with a Harvard Ph.D. He retired after 40 years and came to Tucson to edit the Journal of Arizona History. He has written 22 books about the Southwest and is currently president of the Western History Association.

Additional Reading: Pioneer Heritage, by C. L. Sonnichsen, Arizona Historical Society, Tucson, Arizona, 1984. Early Arizona: Prehistory to Civil War, by Jay J. Wagoner, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, Arizona, 1975.

Arizona Territory: 1863-1912, by Jay J. Wagoner, University of Arizona Press, Tucson, Arizona, 1970.

Arizona, by Marshall Trimble, Doubleday & Company, Garden City, New York, 1977.