OUR HOLIDAY GIFT TO YOU

Text by Melanie Lee Johnston Historical Photographs by Carltons' Photographic

The postcard addressed to Mr. Union Thomas of Glazier, Texas, was postmarked June 21, 1908, from Ash Fork, Arizona. In a flourish of light and dark strokes drawn with an ink pen, the following was written: Don't know where I am going but am on my way. Pearly Surely there has never been a more efficient use of a postcard. In one serendipitous sentence, Pearly notifies his friend Union that he is alive and well and setting off on another adventure.

That would seem to be the purpose of a postcard: to dispatch to friends and family a brief bulletin that relates our arrivals at, opinions of, and departures from places they may never have seen for themselves.

Since Congress authorized the use of a "private mailing card" in 1898, Pearly and millions of other Arizona visitors have sent picture postcards to illustrate the high points of their vacations.

While modern-day travelers can record their favorite sights with 35mm cameras and video camcorders, the picture postcard was the only way turn-of-the-century tourists could show the folks back home the wonders they witnessed although not everyone found Arizona's major attractions to be so wonderful.

One discerning traveler shared this travel tip in an unsigned 1910 postcard: To anyone contemplating a visit to this Petrified Forest, would say that facilities are not suitable for ladies. At Adamana is a one story house called a hotel and team and wagon can be engaged for conveyance to the place. It's all right for a man.

With an average of just six square inches of space for a penned message, the postcard must have been an anomaly to people accustomed to sending longer, more detailed correspondence. But since early 20th-century travel itself could be tiresome, the prospect of filling such a small space was no doubt a relief to sojourners like the aunt who wrote to her nephew on July 23, 1935, B.A. (before air-conditioning): We passed through the desert all rightvery hot we put dry ice in the car, put paper over the windows. I never was so hot in my life.

A visit to the Grand Canyon, one Arizona landmark many people were familiar with but few had actually seen, was an event to be shared with everyone in one's address book. In 1919 Mr. George Phelps of Ithaca, New York, received a Grand Canyon postcard bearing this message:

Dear George:

The Grand Canyon is the most wonderful thing I ever saw. You could put our Ithaca Gorge in one of its side canyons and never even notice it. Arizona is a fine state, and you must have had a fine visit at Tempe.

Harris It cost only one cent to send a postcard back then, a time when simply writing a name and a town was enough to get a card to its destination.

While much has changed over the years, sifting through old postcards reveals that their predominant message is the same today as it was back when Pearly was embarking on a new frontier, namely: Having a great time. Wish you were here.

Still popular today,

picture postcards once played

an even bigger role. In the days

before everyone had a camera,

travelers depended upon them as a

means to share their trips with the

folks back home and as mementos of

their happy times. This "linen" card (LEFT)

printed on heavy textured rag stock is a

classic example of the "big letter" cards

that date from the 1940s. Other kinds

include "view" cards with scenery,

"novelty" cards with a humorous

bent, and "topical" cards that

showed everything from points of

interest to wildlife. Old postcards,

especially those depicting classic

Arizona scenes, have been

favorites of collectors for years.

No brush can paint, nor pencil trace, The charm and beauty of this place; Wonders that in this Canyon dwell, No tongue of man can ever tell.

Assembled in this chasm deep, Where lengthened shadows ever creep: Are mountains, hills, majestic, grand, Carved out by the Almighty's Hand.

Ten thousand landscapes merged in one, Reflect the glories of the sun; And colors in their brilliancy. Surpass the glow of sunset sec.

Spellbound! One views the depths below, Where tides of grandeur ebb and flow: In reverence and silent awe, One worships God as ne'er before.

When people travel in Arizona, they want to see the incredible scenic diversity bestowed upon this patch of the Southwest. Mountains, deserts with verdant flora or saharalike dunes, sylvan meadows, rolling ranchland, remote Indian country, rushing rivers, and even great caverns. Always they want to see the awesome wonder that inspired Arizona's other name: the Grand Canyon State. It's said that you can never see all of the great chasm since it changes season to season, day to day, moment to moment. Because of its vast and ephemeral nature, it's also said that the full experience of the Canyon cannot truly be captured in any photograph. But that never stopped the folks who make postcards. The Grand Canyon has long been one of their favorite subjects. All of the cards on this page were produced in the 1940s. The big letter card, reminiscent of today's bumper sticker, is still a popular style. The classic white-bordered card could be a view card or a novelty as it comes with a poem called "The Grand Canyon" by Henry Felton Huse. The topical card showing the South Rim's landmark El Tovar hotel was produced by Fred Harvey. Each shares a bit of the Canyon.

(OPPOSITE PAGE) Mount Hayden's summit basks in the warm glow (ABOVE) The Canyon in winter offers frosty solitude and vistas transformed by silent snows. A view from the South Rim encompasses snow-covered cliff rose in the foreground and Zoroaster Temple and Yaki Point in the distance. RANDY PRENTICE (FOLLOWING PANEL, PAGES 22 AND 23) The Colorado River wends through rugged canyons near Blacktail Rapids. From the Rim high above, the river is a delicate ribbon. At water level,

it is a statement of timeless power. EDWARD MCCAIN

Once foldout postcards with images on both sides of the panels debuted, it was convenient for travelers to send or keep for themselves a number of pictures reflecting many aspects of a special area of interest, creating a minialbum of photographs. Arizona's incredible variety, and especially its sprawling Indian country with its different landscapes, various cultures, and unique tribal histories, is a perfect subject for the foldouts.

(OPPOSITE PAGE) The Keyhole frames 250-million-year-old sculpted sandstone formations in Monument Valley, an ancient otherworld in Navajoland. JERRY SIEVE (RIGHT) Petrified sand dunes lie beyond a dead juniper in Paria Canyon, a wild land where Pueblo Indians hunted bighorn sheep seven centuries ago and which today challenges even experienced backpackers. JACK DYKINGA Any postcard celebrating the life and times of the frontier was sure to be a hit with the tourists who streamed into Arizona cowboy country, which stretches from the far north to the Mexican borderlands. These cards, top to bottom, are typical of the impressions sent back home by generations of travelers: a novelty card memorializing the cowboys' skill at bronc busting, a view card showing bustling Gurley Street in Prescott, a card that was mailed in 1960 at a cost of three cents; a view or transportation card showing the train crossing the trestle over Canyon Diablo near a town that was called the toughest hellhole in the state, and a novelty card showing a wrangler herding cattle from the back of a giant jackrabbit.

(ABOVE) Aspen trees in Lockett Meadow put on a gloriously golden performance come autumn. The meadow, which can be reached by passenger car, sits below the San Francisco Peaks in the Inner Basin, a U-shaped valley formed by the range. RANDY PRENTICE (FOLLOWING PANEL, PAGES 28 AND 29) Cholla cactus tower above Mexican poppies, lupine, and owl clover in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, in the southern part of the state next to the Papago reservation. JACK DYKINGA

In the desert, visitors may see treasures greater than gold, such as the very popular subjects on these postcards. Top to bottom, a novelty-view card includes a poem lauding the West; an early modern-era glossy card (circa 1945) boasts a photograph, instead of an artist's rendering, of a fishhook cactus; a topical card displays a Gila monster; and a novelty card depicts coyotes howling into the night.

Out Where the West Begit

Out where the handclasp's a little stron Out where the smile dwells a little lon That's where the West begins: Out where the sun is a little brighter. Where the snows that fall are a trifle white Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tig That's where the West begins.

Out where the skies are a trifle bluer. Out where friendship's a little truer, That's where the West begins: Where there's laughter in every streamlet flo Where there's more of reaping and lass of so That's where the West begins.

Out where the world is in the making. Where fewer hearts with despair are achingThat's where the West begins: Where there's more of singing and less of sigh Where there's more of giving and less of buyin And a man makes friends without half trying That's where the West begins.

T

Today and yesterday meld gracefully in Tucson, a busy metropolis that cherishes the rich cultural legacy left by its promenade of residents, from early-day Indians, Spaniards, Mexicans, and pioneers to today's enterprising urbanites. A veritable gold mine of attractions inspires still more postcards hailing the south-of-the-border ambience. From the top, the front and reverse of a novelty card, mailed from Mexico in 1943, shows an ebullience on the part of the artist and the writer, who says it all with just his name; a view card depicts Mission San Xavier del Bac, the "White Dove of the Desert"; a big letter card sends exuberant greetings; an aerial view card reveals some of the mountains that ring the city; a card mailed in 1956 for two cents shows the landmark Santa Rita Hotel; and a topical card captures the delight of a Mexican fiesta at a guest ranch.

(ABOVE) In what might seem a perfect example of the picture postcard of Arizona, many-armed giants in the Saguaro National Monument west of Tucson are silhouetted against another spectacular sunset. (FOLLOWING PANEL, PAGES 34 AND 35) Water from Anderson Dam tumbles through Sabino Canyon in the Santa Catalina Mountains, a popular recreation destination near Tucson. BOTH BY RANDY PRENTICE

MERRY CHRISTMAS

To ALL! was the meaning behind the message on special holiday postcards that made the annual writing and stamping task a bit easier. This card required a two-cent stamp when it was mailed the day before Christmas, 1926.

POSTCARDS ARE FROM THE COLLECTIONS OF ED MELL, VICKY SNOW, AND DOROTHY FISCHER ROSEBROOK