CHRISTMAS AT WALNUT GROVE

A LITTLE CHRISTMAS CHEER COMES TO WALNUT GROVE TEXT BY BUDGE RUFFNER ILLUSTRATION BY PHIL BOATWRIGHT

There had been rejoicing along the Hassayampa in October of 1864 when a bill was introduced in the Territorial legislature to move the capital from Prescott to Walnut Grove. But the joy was brief; the bill failed by a narrow margin.

In 1871, 2nd Lt. David A. Lyle of the Wheeler survey party visited the Grove and reported its potential to no avail. Always optimistic, the ranchers along the river were encouraged when Lt. Alexander O. Brodie, later of the Rough Riders, and then governor, became part of the engineering team that began construction of a large earthen dam on the Hassayampa River in 1883. But fate intervened here, too.

On Washington's Birthday, 1890, the dam broke. More than 70 lives were lost and downstream property destroyed. The loss of life and lawsuits ended the possibility of prosperous industrial activity in the area. Intermittent droughts and political defeats added to the miseries. By the middle of November, 1931, the annual Christmas Eve party at the Walnut Grove schoolhouse appeared to be the only positive thing around. It certainly was on the mind of every man, woman, and child.

The one item for the party that was plentiful was the mistletoe clustered on the cottonwood trees along the river. This and a few piñon boughs gave a festive feeling to the occasion. When the school was built in 1879, it became the centerpiece of the community, and the party on Christmas Eve became a tradition. The women ordered the special extras for the celebration: the gifts and toys that Santa Claus would leave around their trees on Christmas morning, supplies for their ranches, and a modest amount of spirits to sweeten the eggnog and the cowboys.

Everything but the mistletoe, piñon, and spirits was ordered from the Bashford Burmister Company in Prescott. Ranch families had cattle accounts there, billed and paid at the time the cattle were sold in spring and fall. This arrangement made it possible to obtain what was needed for the holiday, even during the Depression. With one exception: in the early days of the Christmas party, the liquor for the eggnog was ordered from the Palace Bar.

When Congress passed the Volstead Act in 1919, the 18th Amendment of the Constitution forbade the sale of alcoholic beverages. Prohibition created a flourishing cottage industry in the hills and mountains of Yavapai County. All during the 1920s, Walnut Grove maintained the tradition of the Christmas party. Some years the eggnog was bland, but at times an accommodating bootlegger brightened the evening with a charitable contribution. However, by November, 1931, alcoholic beverages, legal or illegal, were nearly impossible to come by.

Still the families in the Grove began preparing for Christmas. Orders were sent to Bashford Burmister for fancy fixings and other items. But neither the Palace Bar nor the neighborhood bootlegger could supply the eggnog sweetener.

One of the ranchers, owner of the Cross Bar and a faithful supporter of the sheriff, called on him a few days before Christmas, knowing that the sheriff had impounded some of the better products of the local stills. He also was aware the lawman intended to run for office again the next year. The sheriff was not a devout subscriber to Prohibition, yet charged with enforcement of the law, he occasionally found it necessary to destroy illegal stills and impound the product.

The rancher informed the sheriff that Billy, a cowboy employed by the Cross Bar, would pick up the supplies in Prescott on December 24 and get them to the schoolhouse in time for the party. Then, cloaked in the most diplomatic language the old cowman could muster, he suggested that any liquid contribution the sheriff might see fit to supply would not be forgotten come election day. The sheriff shifted his chewing tobacco from one cheek to the other and nodded understandingly.

Early in the morning on December 24, Billy left for Prescott in the ranch pickup. Thirteen miles of dirt road took him to State Route 89, where he headed into the Bradshaws over the twists and turns that led into town. He stopped at the gas station, the saddle shop, then got a bowl of green-chile stew at Ramon's.

After loading the pickup in the alley behind the Bashford company store, he headed for the sheriff's office. Billy and the sheriff were not strangers. The sheriff was aware of Billy's periodic abandonment of duty triggered by drink. When Billy mentioned the "gift" he was to pick up, the sheriff shook his head. There was nothing here, he told Billy, except a sealed letter for the owner of the Cross Bar.

Several of the ranchers were standing around in front of the schoolhouse when the cowboy arrived about dark. He lowered the gate of the pickup, and the men helped unload the various boxes he had brought from town.

When the truck bed was almost empty, they asked Billy if the sheriff had sent anything back with him.

"Just this," said Billy, handing his boss the letter. Disappointed, and rapidly becoming angry, the old cowman opened the sheriff's letter and read it aloud to the men crowded around him:

"Dear Jim:

Rather than risk your party supplies, the kids' toys, your pickup, and a damn good cowboy, I have made other arrangements. In back of the schoolhouse, down toward the river, is a lone cottonwood. In the first fork of that tree you will find a small oak barrel. Merry Christmas."

The sheriff signed only his initials: G.C.R.

In the fall of 1932, George C. Ruffner, my uncle, won his final election. He died the following year.