BY: Merrill Windsor,Gary Bennett,Jim Willoughby

THE CRYPTIC MESSAGE Emblazoned on the side of the unfortunate automobile at right tells us nothing about the cause of the vehicle's condition. The fault, however, may very well have lain with a treacherous road rather than with the driver or some mechanical failure. Five to six decades ago, in the period when this picture was taken, many rural roadways in Arizona were still quite primitive; but dedicated "locating engineers" and hardworking construction crews were already developing the foundations of what has become the state's extensive and impressive system of modern highways. It occurred to Dean Smith, a journalist-historian whose byline is familiar to the readers of this and numerous other Southwestern publications, that the creative pioneers of our highway network have contributed greatly to the progress of Arizona with very little public acknowledgment. Once he started researching the subject of those early-day builders, he found it an intriguing story. The resulting report, a well-deserved salute to resourceful and courageous men, begins on page 30.

All of the historical photographs used to illustrate the article, as well as the two on this page, came from the voluminous files of the late Norman G. Wallace. That name, too, should be familiar to veteran readers of this magazine. During a long career with the Arizona Highway Department, surveyor Wallace served as the department's official photographer and year by year documented much of its work in progress. He became a fine scenic photographer as well as a patient recorder of construction sites, equipment, and techniques. As a writer as well as photographer, he contributed many articles to Arizona Highways over several decades. In July, 1938, a Wallace photograph of Oak Creek Canyon became the magazine's first full-color cover.

Because of Arizona's varied and rugged terrain, the often difficult, sometimes staggering challenge of bridgebuilding went along with that of laying down highways. Today many of the older spans are obsolete, but staff members of the Arizona Department of Transportation, sensitive to the structures' historic, engineering, and architectural significance, have championed their inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places. Clayton B. Fraser, who may know more about the bridges of the western states than any other expert, tells us about some of them in a companion piece to the highways story entitled "Bridges of Yesteryear."

building went along with that of laying down highways. Today many of the older spans are obsolete, but staff members of the Arizona Department of Transportation, sensitive to the structures' historic, engineering, and architectural significance, have championed their inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places. Clayton B. Fraser, who may know more about the bridges of the western states than any other expert, tells us about some of them in a companion piece to the highways story entitled "Bridges of Yesteryear."

Arizonans walk as well as ride, of course many by choice as enthusiastic hikers. For nature lovers interested in tackling a 50-mile pathway through peaceful ponderosa forest, Bob Whitaker serves as a knowledgeable guide along the Highline Trail just below the Mogollon Rim.

Summer may seem an odd time for us to focus on sun-baked South Mountain Park in Phoenix, but to biologist John Alcock every season in that remarkable desert preserve offers its own rewards. In our lead article, "South Mountain: A Park for All Seasons," he explains what those special satisfactions are at this time of year.

Gary Bennett, Arizona Highways' art director and himself an accomplished painter, has been watching the progress of three artists whose work is innovative enough to qualify as representative of artistic trends in the New West. In this issue Ron McCoy interviews all three and introduces you to their work, their creative ideas, and some of their opinions.

Arizona's territorial history, always good for another colorful yarn, contributes to this issue's contents an amusing but sometimes sobering account: what it was like to try to teach school under the all but impossible conditions of the untamed frontier. Chips Muehl's research yielded anecdotes and quotations that should hold your interest as surely as they inspired the illustrative skills of Jim Willoughby.