Along the Way

The native Arizonan considered himself expert on the state's geography, including esoteric place-names. But when a Kentucky-born friend wanted help finding Salmon Well on a map, the native drew a blank.

It took several minutes to figure out that his friend had heard someone refer to the mining town of San Manuel.

In proper Spanish, the town's name is pronounced "Sahn Mahn-well," quickly, sounding like a single three-syllable word. A newcomer might even call it "San Man-you-ell."

Most of Arizona's intimidating names are Spanish, or Indian phrases as interpreted by Hispanics. Usage has eliminated Spanish accent marks and the tilde which makes "n" sound like "ny" as in cañon (canyon).

Knowledge of Spanish is only partially helpful. English-speaking tongues have difficulty with Spanish subtleties. When an Arizonan speaks of the town of El Mirage (properly El Mee-rajh), a newcomer might ask, "Elmer who?"

The reply would sound like "Elmer Odge."

Learning to pronounce "Mogollon" is something of an initiation for newcomers. The Mogollon Rim is a cliff that rises as much as 2,000 feet in the eastern section of Arizona, and it figures prominently in weather reports.

Richard A. Pinkerton, chairman of the Arizona State Geographic and Historic Names Board, said it is always apparent when a television newscaster is recently arrived in the state: "The first few times, they call it 'Mongolian,' or 'Mogul-yon."

The Spanish pronunciation, "Moeg-yone," tends to eliminate the middle syllable. The accepted pronunciation among Arizonans is "Mug-ee-yone," with the second "o" long and only the scantest of accents on the second syllable.

Pinkerton, a retired chief of the cartographic branch of the Arizona Department of Transportation, concedes that new arrivals need some latitude. Two-thirds of Arizonans were born elsewhere, and they have followed in the tracks of trapper James Ohio Pattie.

In 1825 and '26, Pattie explored the Gila (Hee-lah) River across the part of Mexico that would become Arizona. His ghost-written account, the first English description of the region, spelled the name of the river "Helay."

Don Bufkin, Arizona's foremost historic cartographer and vice chairman of the geographic names board, notes that Gila frequently is mispronounced "Guy-lah" or "Gill-ah."

The worst linguistic injustice falls upon Casa Grande, the name of both a city and a national monument. In Spanish it is a handsome, authoritative, rolling statement: "Kab-sah Grahn-day." Few Anglo tongues can handle that, so it emerges a hasty, unpoetic "Ka-suh Grand."

Bufkin said Anglos have trouble with the Spanish "ll" which sounds like "y," as in "tortilla (tore-tee-ya)." Rillito (Ree-yee-toe) Creek through Tucson is not only mispronounced but redundant: rillito means creek.

The "ll" frequently shows up in street names that affect the Spanish word "calle" (kie-yay) for street. Thus you might see Calle Ocotillo (Kie-yay Oh-ko-tea-yo) named for a shrub with whiplike branches.

Bufkin resides in Tucson, originally "Tewksone," a Spanish impression of an Indian word for "black bot-tom,"

WHERE THE HECK IS SALMON WELL? OR HOW DO YOU SAY SAN MANUEL?

describing the base of a nearby mountain. The commonly accepted pronunciation is "Too-sawn."

A hard "j" in Spanish is rarer than a fire sale at Nieman Marcus. That is why the southern Arizona mining town Ajo is "Ab-hoe." Newcomers tend to rhyme it with "Hey Joe."

Several of Arizona's geographic features use the name verde, Spanish for green. It is properly "vair-day," but in common Anglo usage it rhymes with "dirty."

Just when we have convinced you that Arizonans don't know how to use Spanish, we come to the "hu" which sounds like "w." We handle that one very well. You are most likely to encounter "Chiricahua." In cowboy dialect the southern Arizona mountains became the Cherry Cow-uhs, but the usual pronunciation is Cheery-kou-ah. Arizonans know that Huachuca is Wa-chew-ka, not Who-ah-chuck-uh.

Arizonans also do well with Agua Fria (Ah-wah Free-ah), the name of a usually dry river in the center of the state. The "gu" frequently translates as "w," as in saguaro (sah-wahr-oh). Several Arizona place-names end in "pai," which sounds like "pie:" Hualapai (here's the "w" sound again: Wall-ah-pie); Yavapai (Yah-vah-pie), Havasupai (Hab-va-sue-pie). These are the names of western Arizona Indian tribes.

One exception to the Spanish-Indian tradition is the city of Tempe, adjacent to Phoenix. It was named for the Vale of Tempe in Greece and residents pronounce it "Tem-pee." Newcomers frequently accent the first syllable. Another is Salome, a desert hamlet that should be pronounced "Sah-lo-may," but everyone who lives there calls it "Suh-loam."

There is one geographic pronunciation that defies even phonetics. The Mazatzal Mountains northeast of Phoenix should be pronounced "Mah-zaht-sahl." Try saying that quickly. Then maybe you'll understand why some Arizonans simply call the mountains "the Matt-uh-zals."

Native Americans have introduced a new challenge. They have begun to reinstate indigenous names, replacing those imposed on them by Spanish and Anglo interlopers.

The Hopi changed New Oraibi (Oh-rye-bee) to their own Kykotsmovi (Kee-cots-moe-vee). The Papago have resumed their own name for themselves, Tohono O'odham.

How is Tohono O'odham pronounced? You would ask. A member of the tribe said "Thawn-ob Ah-ah-dum" but snickered when an Anglo tried to repeat it. Knowledgeable non-Indians seem to have settled on "Toe-ob-no Obbb-dahm."

We hope these tips will make you more comfortable with Arizona names. Our phonetic pronunciations are not the final word, but an average of sounds Arizonans will recognize without arching their eyebrows.