Missing & Presumed Lost

The Early Years

A sampler of sixty years of Arizona Highways... Arizona Highways ARIZONA Welcomes You

It was 1925, and 192,000 out-ofstate automobiles were careening down Arizona's “better than average graded, graveled, and paved roads.” Arizona's highway publication debuted under the baton of Vincent J. Keating. Volume One, Number One cost ten cents and contained the magazine's first photo spread: surfaced highways between Yuma and the Hassayampa River. As part of Arizona Highways' Sixtieth Anniversary celebration, the magazine is reprinting this first issue as a Collector's Edition at $5.00 each. To order your copy, use the enclosed order form or write: Arizona Highways, 2039 West Lewis Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85009. For faster service, call our Customer Service at (602) 258-1000. (RIGHT) In 1938 the stylized drawings of George M. Avey began appearing in Highways. It was the start of a thirty-three year association with the magazine. Avey's name, however, did not appear on the masthead until May, 1946. In August of '46 he was named art editor. He retired in 1971.

A FRIENDLY GUIDE FOR THE TRAVELER IN THE LAND OF SUNSHINE AND SCENIC GRANDEUR In approaching running washes or typical Arizona rivers -Stop On The Bank. Don't take the word of anyone that the running wash or river can or cannot be crossed. If practical and not too dangerous, walk across the wash or river, thus feeling the bottom and determining the depth of the water, walking in a straight line and returning in a parallel to test the bottom under both sides of the car. You can readily tell from this simple test where the bottom is solid and whether the water is deep enough to flood your carburetor or generator or whether the fan blades will be in the water when crossing. If the water would flood the carburetor or generator - Stay On The Bank. If it would touch the fan, loosen the fan belt if possible so water would not be thrown on your distributor or ignition wires which would probably stall the engine. After the above tests prove favorable - Enter Water in Second Gear and Not Low Gear and Keep the Speed Below Eight Miles An Hour.

December, 1926 Vincent J. Keating, founding editor, Arizona Highways Magazine

There have been just three great programs of highway building within recorded history that by the major tests of area served and mileage completed may be classed together: That of the Roman Empire, beginning with Julius Caesar and extending to Constantine; That of France under the Emperor Napoleon; That of the United States during the past decade.

The Southwest has a fascination that appeals to the most prosaic. It is a colorful country, with flaming canyons alternating with deserts gray or prismatic; with the ruins of old historic, and even prehistoric, structures scattered here and there, mute reminders of pioneer days and of the even earlier times before civilization had touched this section of the country.... In the midst of this interesting region lie several national parks and an even greater number of national monuments. Of these the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, of which the most spectacular portion has been included in a national park... is the most stupendous; indeed, in the world it has no peer.

The year, 1539. A long line of Spanish noblemen, priests, and their retinue moved slowly over the desert. The glitter and gaiety of their ornamental dress, which had confounded the natives as they left a little village in the valley of Mexico, were now much subdued, for the natives and the desert Sun and sand had taken toll. Heavy metal embellishments and dozens of extra suits and dress had been dropped by the wayside to wondering dark-skins. The desert had spared neither footmen nor horsemen for the robes of the padres were more white than black, while the gay colors of Spanish caballero costumes were dulled and worn by exposure to Sun and storm. Thus these blue bloods of Spain moved onward, following the beckoning finger of wealth and fame. Some were worn in spirit and body as well as raiment; these wished to retrace their steps. The leader and his intimates, however, were prone to listen to the big black man who led them on against the more sensible heads. Quivera! Was there not a golden city ahead where each could quench his thirst for gold? Gold! Gold! Ever did these thoughts of instantaneous wealth at the end of a long journey encourage the weariest of feet.

Arizona Highways ARIZONA HIGHWAYS ARIZONA HIGHWAYS ARIZONA HIGHWAYS Arizona Highways Arizona Highways Arizona HIGHWAYS Arizona HIGHWAYS ARIZONA HIGHWAYS

This suggests to me that... those who hold public office should not be content merely to take the duties of their jobs as they find them and to carry them out according to precedent. Those who have had experience in operating the machine should be able to tell of its defects. I once heard of a public official who recommended that his job be abolished as useless. It would be a heartening and refreshing thing if there were a lot more like him. We heard a great deal during the late war about the challenge to democracy to learn that democracy was being challenged. But I think, too, that democracy is being challenged today just as forcibly if not as clamorously. The challenge is heard right here among us from all who complain about the inefficiency, the stupidity, and the expense of government. It may be read in the statistics of crime and seen in the ugliness of many of our communities. It is expressed in all the newspaper accounts of official graft and blundering. It is written on our tax rolls and even in the patriotic-seeming textbooks that our children study in the schools. It looms large on election day when voters see before them long lists of names of men and women of whom they have never heard to be voted upon as candidates for salaried offices of whose duties and functions the voter has but the haziest impression.

arizona sketch book

In the December issue, the first Arizona Sketch Book "...revealing the Arizona scene... through the works of Arizona's artists" featured Late Afternoon at the Little Daisy, by Lew E. Davis, oil on canvas, 14½ by 2412-inches. Courtesy Yares Gallery. Raymond Carlson took the helm of the magazine that year of 1938, beginning a tradition of quality scenic photography and noteworthy fine art.

We hear that the Board of Supervisors are going to do some more Road Work up here somewhere. Every Four or Five, or maybe Ten Years, when there is More Road Money than they can spend down around Yuma, they send up some of their Best Friends or Relatives to do Road Work. They go away off in the Brush Somewhere and Hide a lot of Little Sticks with Numbers On, for miles and miles and a month or so, until the road money is all gone then they go back home again or to Yuma. Then in Four or Five or maybe Ten Years some more Best Friends or Relatives come up here again and they go off out in the Brush Somewhere and Try to Find some of the Little Sticks the others hid Four or Five or maybe Ten Years before. The one that finds the Most Sticks with the Biggest Numbers On will probably be elected Supervisor or Highways Commissioner this time.

As surfacing and speed developed, we were confronted with the question of flattening curves, superelevation, centerline striping, metal guard rail, and other accessories that make for safe, fast driving. It is only natural, then, that the psychological hazards as well as those of physical nature should be removed. We widened our roads, took the kinks out of them, improved alignment, but until recently, gave little or no thought to the immediate roadside. We continued using borrow pits, narrow rights of way, permitted the erection of structures so close to the highway that they were an actual menace. We paid little or no attention to the esthetic value of a roadside. We allowed pole line owners to butcher trees of any and all description at will. We still blasted with reckless abandon through hill and countrysides, even in cases where it might have been avoided, and left unsightly, permanent scars of construction in our wake. Many of our borrow pits have become sources of erosion, as have our steep backslopes. We found topsoil stripped from the land, and natural plant life unable to reseed. Then somebody yawned, stretched a few times, and woke up. In fact, several people woke up.

Up through the sand dauntless verbenas bloom; The tassels of the ocotillo blaze; Saguaro, candles in a giant's room, Light the monotony of desert days. Nations shall die, and others shall be born; Heroes shall rise, and Christs be crucified; And still those peaks shall greet the sparkling morn; And still those crests defy the western tide. Deep peace rests here, when every day is done; Hope lives again with every new sunrise; Moonlight and starlight, noon, and setting sun Spread benediction on the Hualapais.

Our Land

Cataract Canyon is one of the most picturesque places of the entire region. Its color and configuration are unsurpassed in a locality primarily notable for such characteristics. Like the main Grand Canyon, it is, at the northern end or mouth, a double gorge about a mile wide and 2500 feet deep through upper rock formations and narrowing by shelves or steps inward to a five hundred foot gorge at the Colorado River junction.

Havasu Creek, a clear stream of rushing water, literally bursts from the canyon floor to wind for about two and a half miles down to the first of four great falls, namely, Navajo, Havasu, Mooney, and Beaver, where it plunges gracefully step by step to join the contrastingly muddy and menacing Colorado. The stream is heavily saturated with carbonate of lime, and we are told that this condition is responsible for the exceptionally beautiful blue-green coloration which is so impressive to the occasional visitor, who finds his way into this beauty spot. The lime content deposits in the form of extraordinary travertine curtains at the series of falls....

Cataract Canyon is peopled by the Havasupai Indians, less than 200 strong, a Yuman-speaking group first known to whites in 1776 when Padre Francisco Garcés found them. The Havasupais have lived so quietly and remotely in their inaccessible canyon home that even today comparatively little is known about them.

(ABOVE) Navajo Falls, in Havasupai Canyon, by Robert L. Zeriax, appeared in the December, 1941, issue featuring "Our Land... A Portfolio in Color." (BELOW) In January, 1940, a feature entitled "Neighborly Notes" pictured distinguished movie star Gary Cooper on the set near Tucson, during the making of the motion picture The Westerner for Samuel Goldwyn. (BELOW, RIGHT) Character actor Leo Carrillo gained fame as "Pancho" in the Cisco Kid movies, some of which were filmed in Arizona.

I long for the smell of the sagebrush land, For our rolling hills and your desert sand. I think and I think, and it gets my goat, And a sort of a lump comes into my throat. I put out the lights in some cheap hotel. And I grope in the dark for what some call Hell; I go back to my days of punching cattle, And I tire of people and their idle prattle. Of the things they'd do if they had the chance. But their fiddlers play and they never dance ... they never dance to Nature's tune! For they get no kick from the stars or Moon. They press a button night and day. And their wish is served on a silver tray. I want to go back where they ain't no crowds; Where the mountains kiss the hanging clouds; Where the blue sky bends to a turquoise sea. And the saguaro serves as my only tree; Where the coyote howls his hungry woes; Where you love your friends and respect your foes; Where the heat is hell hot, and you're short of breath. And the raven trails, and you flirt with death. Well, you keep your streets and buildings grand, And I'll take my cactus and sagebrush land.... Where the blues and the pinks and the purples blend. And I'll wait for God till he says, "The End!"

ARIZONIQUES

STRANGE FACTS OF ARIZONA, QUEEN STATE OF THE ROMANTIC WEST, WHERE MEN WERE FIGHTING AND DYING TO INTRODUCE CIVILIZATION INTO AMERICA A COUPLE OF HUNDRED YEARS BEFORE THOSE UPSTARTS, THE PILGRIM FATHERS, SET FOOT ON PLYMOUTH ROCK.

"Arizoniques" first appeared in May, 1938, edited by Raymond Carlson. Through the years much has changed, but in the late thirties, these Arizona items were intriguing to our readers many still are.

The Valley of the Sun area in the vicinity of Phoenix, where practically every known crop is produced, has a growing season of 300 days at the minimum.

With the enrollment of 750 students representing thirty-three different tribes, the United States Government Indian School in Phoenix is one of the largest of its kind in the United States.

The two Yaqui Indian settlements in Arizona near Tucson and Phoenix are the "only nation within a nation" and the only nation with a flag of its own permitted to exist within the United States. The United States has no jurisdiction over them, they being Mexican subjects.

The first diesel-powered tractor ever placed on the market was tested at the Goodyear cotton acreage at Litchfield Park near Phoenix.

Arizona is first in copper production in the United States and at peak has supplied one-fourth of the entire world copper production.

Pima long staple cotton, grown in Southern Arizona, is said to be the finest in the world.

Phoenix South Mountain Park, consisting of nearly 15,000 acres, is the largest municipal park in the United States.

The Ice Caves at the base of Sunset Crater and San Francisco Mountains, near Flagstaff which, a few feet below ground are filled with ice the year around, supplied saloons and other establishments in the eighties with their refrigeration needs.

It is estimated that the aged cottonwood trees which line the irrigation canals in Southern Arizona each consume approximately 400 gallons of water daily.

Bisbee is said to be the largest town in the United States without postal delivery service, it being out of reason for carriers to negotiate the dizzy slopes on which the town is built, and everyone goes to the Post Office for his mail.

The planet Pluto was discovered in 1931 from the Lowell Observatory, established at Flagstaff for the study of the planet Mars.

The four highest reclamation dams of their type in the world are located in Arizona Boulder Dam, highest wedge type; Roosevelt Dam, highest masonry type; Coolidge Dam, highest multiple-dome type; Bartlett Dam, highest multiple-arch type.

Kayenta, in northern Navajo County, is the farthest post office from a railroad in the United States.

Summer thunderstorms are so frequent on the Colorado Plateau of Northern Arizona that it is said Flagstaff is tied with Santa Fe, New Mexico, for second place among cities of the United States where thunder is heard.

The "deepest-down" ranch in the world is picturesquely located Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, being a vertical mile below the Rim, the trail to it being over seven miles long.

Flagstaff, the city in the pines of Coconino County, is one of the cooler summer cities in the United States having an average temperature of sixty-five degrees.

Compañía de María in Douglas is the only Novitiate in the United States. A training school for nuns, novices come from Old Mexico and Cuba as well as all parts of the United States.

The preferred spelling of the word "saguaro," Arizona's giant cactus, often spelled "sahuaro," was decided by a bill passed in the state legislature designating the proper spelling as saguaro.

"The Masque of the Yellow Moon" pageant, presented annually by the Phoenix Union High School and Junior College student body, portraying early history and legend, is the greatest of its kind in the country, over 3000 students participating in a flood-lighted spectacle of beauty and color.

Ross Santee drawings from "When the West was Young," April, 1940.

THE HIGHWAYS OF ARIZONA LEAD TO HEALTH AND HAPPINESS IN THE LAND OF SUN AND ENCHANTMENT.

You have in Arizona the greatest and most unique opportunity in America. You have here the succession of four or five cultures of civilization, one after another. You have a country greatly favored by Nature, where it has been possible for man to live and develop since the dawn of man. You should tell the world about it....

Probably you will need a number of great pageants, at various places in the state, each commemorating some important culture, some important event, some important civilization, all coordinated with the plans of your neighbor so that, by working together, you can attract to the Southwest in 1940-the four-hundredth anniversary of the Coronado Expedition the major portion of the 600,000 carloads of tourists who are annually traveling over the country, seeking diversion and entertainment....

It has struck me as a curious, and, to Arizona, a remarkably advantageous fact, that Coronado entered the territory of what is now the United States through Southern Arizona, and traveled northward at least a third of the state's length before his course led him into New Mexico.

This fact reminds me of the obligation this puts upon Arizona, not only to be a part as I know is your purpose in the Cuarto-centennial celebration of the Coronado Expedition that has been started by New Mexico; but that much of the charm, much of the initiative, much of the spirit of the revived life of this great historic figure, will depend upon the knowledge, the taste, the art understanding, that Arizona lends to this great undertaking.

January, 1937 Gutzon Borglum, sculptor

Ray Strang Painter of the West

The big Western deer are now as smart and wary as any animal that lives. If ability to survive is any criterion of intelligence, mule deer must be the smartest of all Western game, since they are increasing rapidly in spite of hard hunting, while elk are barely holding their own, and sheep are decreasing. In particularly favored localities, such as the Black Range of New Mexico, the Kaibab and Mogollon plateaus of Arizona, and parts of the Davis Mountains in Texas, they are now probably more numerous than they were when the white man first came to the West.

Mule deer are the finest game animals of the Rocky Mountain West, occupying in that section the position held by the Virginia white-tail in the East. If it were not for mules, most Western sportsmen without a great deal of leisure and money would have no big game at all.

This big, fine deer is found in every state of the West, from Washington to western Texas, from Montana to Southern California, Southern Arizona, and even the deserts of Mexico. In cold forests of spruce and fir and hot cactus studded deserts, they are equally at home....

The antlers of the old bucks are the glory of the species. Like those of the Columbian black-tail they are dichotomous, or evenly branched, in contrast to those of the white-tail, on which the points all spring from a main beam. They are massive, long of beam, and wide of spread, and a really good mule-deer head is one of the finest trophies in America.

October, 1937 Jack O'Connor, outdoor editor, firearms expert The guide spurred his horse and stepped on ahead. But he stopped abruptly at the paloverde tree.

"Say!" he shouted back, "It's a human skull!"

It was indeed a human skull. The head of an adult, white but not yet too bleached by sunshine and time, still a trifle new.

Solemnly, the men all inspected it. Attention was especially centered on a hole in the left temple....

"A break like that can be nothing but a bullet hole," said they.

Now of course you may be as skeptical as you like about Superstition Mountain, and smile in smirking cynicism at stories of its Lost Dutchman Mine. You can say that Paul Bunyan or his creator came down and functioned for a while in Southern Arizona, and let it go at that. But you will be jumping wildly at a conclusion.

Whatever your attitude in the matter, two significant facts - cold, bold facts cannot be overlooked in any study of the mountain:

14/Arizona Highways Magazine My Father was riding me on the saddle before him as we got near Miller Valley. "You help Lady Lee with her chores, hear? No ropin' hogs and creatin' hell like last time," he warned me. He left me at Lady Lee's when he'd get a day's work in the valley during a round up or something like that. I was turning eleven or twelve, I reckon. We lived in Prescott. Dad mostly got odd jobs or went hunting or hired up with the scouts or did a bit of placer mining, and he'd never know just what to do with me at such times. Not that there weren't a dozen families who'd have taken me in, but Dad liked to keep his eye on me, and I guess he was scared that a lot of these families who thought he wasn't bringing me up right would try to get me away from him or something. Anyhow, he'd only set me down for a day with any neighbor, from sunup to sunset, and then he'd call for me, and we'd go back to our cabin and set the beans on the stove. I never could eat much after one of these days he'd leave me with a neighbor to be taken care of because the women would feed me up to the teeth, figuring I must be starving with only a man to look after my upbringing and education. What's more, no matter if it was the middle of summer, they'd pile clothes on me, and give me stuff to wear and for bedding and all, so Dad would always have a heavier load to take home than he had when he set out with me in the morning. Sometimes I'd be fed so much I'd almost be sick jogging in the saddle on the way home. And Lady Lee was a great hand at feeding anybody who happened along to her homestead.

Lady Lee wasn't her right name. She was a Simmons, an Englishwoman who had married a Southerner, and after the Civil War her husband got some homestead rights under the new laws that were being passed, borrowed some money, and came West with her. All the West was being made by capital raised in the East for expansion out here, brand new clean towns were springing up... but about Lady Lee. Her name was Mary. I hear they called her "Lady" because of the way she spoke and held herself. Her husband had left her, and there she was homesteading by herself, feeding the hogs, manuring her garden, doin' the chores, helping at calving and such, and all the time carryin' herself and acting as if she was Lady Bountiful of Old World Manor with servants and lackeys within call. Lady Lee was 'round the back when we rode up. My father dumped me on the porch. When he hollered - she came around, and my father told her how I'd promised to help her This time and let the hogs alone and keep off ructions generally. She laughed and said I'd be a great help, and she was glad I'd came because this was her busy day. She looked very old to me, but I guess she wasn't much over forty and not very big. In fact she was kind of skinny. She had light blue eyes, a wide mouth with lips that weren't very big and her cheekbones showed up kind of clear. She tilted her head so she could look up at my father from under the big bonnet she wore and said something I didn't catch about her being busy for someone who was coming home. Then my father said something, and she gave a funny laugh, and my father rode away, and Lady Lee took me inside for something to eat.

Lioneers

BROKEN WAGON WHEEL that rots away beside the river, A sunken grave that dimples on the hill above the trail. The wind sweeps, the larks call, the prairie grasses quiver And sing a wistful roving song of hoof and wheel and sail. Pioneers! pioneers! you trailed on to glory. Across the circling deserts to the mountains blue and dim. New England was a story. The new home, the true home lay out beyond the rim. Your wagon trail is laid with steel, your tired dust is sleeping. Your spirit stalks the valleys where a restive nation teems. Your soul has never left them in their sowing and their reaping. The children of the outward trail, their eyes are full of dreams. Pioneers! Pioneers! Your children will not reckon The dangers on a misty trail no man has ever gone. They look beyond the sunset, where the better countries beckon, With old faith, with bold faith to find a wider dawn.

Sometimes even an old-timer in this Canyon Country will get lost, wander out on a neck of ridge between canyons, to where he can go neither forward nor up nor down. Maybe night will catch him there, suspended between stars above and black emptiness below. My trail has been something like that.

There is only one way to be lonelier than when lost in the canyons. It is to be a stranger in a big town.

The loneliness of the canyons is something you pull around yourself. You pull the universe around you like a blanket, and lie looking through the stars. The loneliness of the city is a ruthless personal act directed against you....

There is no Moon nor stars in the city. Not even a sky. Cities are the inventions of warped brains.... Whoever went singing into a city?

My mother went singing into the Canyon Country. She sat on the front seat of our wagon, beside Father - whose only sound was a recurrent tongue-click for the horses. That first sunset in Canyon Country on the Arizona Strip! Yellow blossoming and odorous, the cleome was a sea that billowed and lapped about the wagon-box, fingered the horses' hames, slid along their sides and bellies. We there were nine kids caught the pungent flowers in our hands. We forgot we were hungry. We looked at the cliffs towering in the ruddy light. The cliffs of Tumurru. They were beautiful and terrible and strange.

They threw back a trembling echo of mother's song. "Mark ye her bulwarks, consider her palaces. Cry out and shout, cry out and shout! Tell it to the generations following thee!"

Mother was a poetess.

MERCHANTS SINCE 1862

(ABOVE) In the May, 1939, issue, Highways paid tribute to the Goldwaters, pioneer Arizona merchants and supporters of public works and cultural institutions. (BELOW) Murals from the walls of Arizona Department of Library and Archives, by Jay Datus, appeared in Highways during the year 1944.

In 1879 John Taylor of the Mormon Church visioned that his people should go to the southeast and settle the valley of the San Juan. November of that year saw 250 men, women, and children depart from Cedar City in eighty-two wagons, accompanied by nearly a thousand head of cattle. Five weeks had been planned for the entire journey, but at the end of that time the party found itself on the plateau above Hole in the Rock, its travel having been impeded by the many canyons, deserts, and rivers they had to cross. As I stood there at the head of that narrow crack in the Earth's surface, I could well imagine the feelings those Mormons must have had when, after all the hardships of travel which they had already endured, they were confronted with this new one. The river they must cross lay a thousand feet below them, a mile away down a steep canyon whose entrance wasn't wide enough to allow the passage of the wagons. Following the amazing pioneer instinct of never admitting defeat and of never turning back, they pitched in to make a road down this canyon. Working with the zeal that has always been peculiar to the Mormons, they cut steps in the canyon's floor, widened the walls where need be, built a road where there was dirt enough to allow such construction, and even made a bridge at one point. All this work was done in the bitter cold of December and January. Finally, late in January of 1880, the first wagon made the descent down Hole in the Rock with the aid of twenty men holding it back and the animals in front straining to act as brakes instead of power. That successful day saw over twenty wagons taken down that trail built by the determination of people going someplace to do something....

I get homesick sometimes for the smell of burning mesquite wood. Many a time in the brush country, I have smelled out a Mexican jacal (cabin), hidden by darkness or the lay of the land, by the aroma of mesquite smoke going up its chimney. A friend of mine who often camps in the mesquite country always holds his hands in the smoke every little while during the breakfast period so they will smell of burning mesquite all the rest of the morning. "For hours afterward," he says, "I can enjoy the odor on my hands."

What an aroma the smoke gives to steak cooked over an open fire! If the mesquite burned down to coals, it will be well to add enough fuel to make smoke. Mesquite wood burning in a fireplace in winter time, in addition to supplying warmth and the light and cheerfulness emanating from all open fires, offers a bouquet - just detectable enough in a well-drawing chimney to gratify alert noses....

It is a pity for people to look out on the mesquite growing upon hundreds of millions of acres in the Southwest without being reminded of anything, without possessing in mind any interesting facts about this native growth. It comes as near being characteristic of the whole Southwest, including much of Mexico, as any species of plant life known to the region. It is as native as rattlesnakes and mockingbirds, as characteristic as northers, and as blended into life of the land as cornbread and tortillas. Men and other animals were making use of it untold generations before Columbus sailed; they are still making use of it.

I ask for no better monument over my grave than a good mesquite tree.

The rains have been falling so that the old year went, and the new year came to the accompaniment of the music of the rain... rain falling in slow downbeats over our desert and rangeland... welcome rain that has put an end to the drought of the past several years. In the high mountains, little streams form, flow into each other, grow in size as they join their fellows, and become broad rivers to roar downward into the lakes held by the dams. Here in quiet repose, the water that comes with the rains will be hoarded to be used in the valley lands by the thirsty fields when summer comes.... This spring will find the desert more fragrant and more beautiful than ever before. One does not have to be an old-timer to know that the rains of winter will mean a lush green carpet on the desert in the spring and that the wildflowers will grow luxuriantly. The cactus flowers, receiving added life from the rain that has drenched the desert floor, will bloom in more brilliant colors than they have for several years. The prospect of the coming spring in our land is one to excite the poet, the painter, the photographer, and the traveler.

We saw the Canyon from Desert View, now clear and bright in the sunlight with no storm filling the Canyon like vapor. We saw it from the spectacular point known as the Abyss, from Yaki Point and Hermits Rest. We stopped innumerable times and left the car and went to the Rim and looked and looked. It is like drinking beauty and space and time a heady and dangerous draught. There are no words with which to describe this grandeur. To see it is, at one and the same time, an intoxication and a religious experience. From each point the view changes, the shapes are different; they alter under light and shade. There are temples and towers and sheer terrifying cliffs. There are amphitheatres and plateaus; there are mountains, the tops sliced flat as by a knife. Across we saw the North Rim and the snowstorms over it - storms which did not reach us. At one point the sun glittered on the windows of the North Rim Lodge, closed in winter. Over there we knew were the tall forests of pine and aspen, the white-tailed squirrels, the fir and spruce. Higher than the South Rim, the North Rim towers, shrouded in snow and silence. Looking down from our side at the various points, we could see the Colorado River, yellow, beige, seeming so small and narrow yet often three hundred feet wide. We could see little lazy ripples which were in reality treacherous rapids, the waves reaching great heights. We could see the bright spring green of cottonwood trees and Phantom Ranch and the suspension bridge. Down there a mile below us if you went straight down, which it is to be hoped you wouldn't do-was the desert life again; the cacti now coming into full bloom, the lizards and reptiles, the flowers and trees. Down there it was warm, the Sun shone, and no snow ever falls.

(ABOVE) March, 1945, was one of many issues celebrating the dude ranch image of Arizona casual Old West hospitality, sunshine, and pretty ladies. Rusty Davies photo (BELOW) Esther Henderson's "Rainbow Over the Grand Canyon," from the December, 1945, issue. It was one of the first two-page color spreads to appear in Highways.