Legends of the Lost

LEGENDS OF THE LOST The Hassayampa May Still Hold a 105-year-old Flood's Hidden Treasures

Before you read of the treasures buried in the sands of the Hassayampa River, you need to know that I have drunk the waters of that fabled stream.

The Hassayampa has a special place in the lore of Arizona. Legend says that anyone who drinks from the river will never tell the truth again. The legend spawned several bits of doggerel in the days of Arizona Terri-

tory. I like this verse:

You've heard about the Wondrous stream They call the Hassayamp. They say it turns a Truthful guy Into a lying scamp. And if you quaff its Waters once, It's sure to prove your bane. You'll ne'er forsake the Blasted stream Or tell the truth again.

Mind you, it isn't always easyto drink from the Hassayampa. The river begins in the Bradshaw Mountains south of Prescott, exits the mountains through Jesus Canyon a few miles north of the old mining town of Wickenburg, then meanders across the desert to flow into the Gila River southwest of Phoenix. "Flow" is a figurative term. For most of its 75-mile length, the Hassayampa is dry, or seems so. The stream actually goes underground, flowing sluggishly beneath the broad, sandy surface. In places the stream widens and looks like a misplaced beach. A whimsical sign on a bridge in the town of Wickenburg warns: No Fishing From Bridge.

But as with any of Arizona's seemingly dry rivers, the mellow, whimsical Hassayampa can become, sometimes unexpectedly, a raging torrent following a heavy rain or snowmelt on the watersheds above.

In the early days of Arizona Territory, from 1863 through 1890, a lot of gold mining occurred within spitting distance of the Hassayampa. Prospectors and miners were called "Hassayampers," and the term spread to include liars, high-rollers, and Arizonans who were proud of where they lived. (See Arizona Highways, December '94.) I sipped its waters in the Bradshaw Mountains between Walnut Grove and Wagoner. There the Hassayampa is a small clear creek meandering through the gentle hills. And it was there that began a well-documented story of missing treasures.

The ill-fated Walnut Grove Dam was actually nearer Wagoneroner than Walnut Grove. The earthen dam was built in 1886 and 1887 to provide water for sluicing gold downstream, a mining technique common to California but rarely used in Arizona. A diversion dam was built below in the foothills of the Bradshaws, and a construction and mining camp sprang up. From the diversion dam, water would be delivered to mining claims through wooden flumes.

The owners of the dam were New York entrepreneurs more interested in selling stock than in the details of dam-building. They fired one set of engineers during construction and hired others more willing to take risks. The dam was not founded on bedrock, and in midconstruction its engineers increased its height from 60 to 110 feet. A 900-acre lake formed behind the finished dam, and old photos exist showing sailboats skimming across it. Water was released through outlet pipes to the pond behind the downstream diversion dam.

In the spring of 1889, the dam was threatened by heavy rains and a logjam in the overflow spillway. Work was begun to enlarge the spillway.

The winter of 1889-90 was a wet one in central Arizona. The lake was already dangerously full in mid-February when a heavy storm moved in from California. The rains began February 18, and within a couple of days flash flooding was a problem over much of the Territory.

On the third day, the water behind Walnut Grove Dam rose an alarming 18 inches per hour. Superintendent Thomas H. Brown put 15 men to work trying to widen the spillway with dynamite.

Brown sent blacksmith Dan Burke downstream on horseback to warn people below that the dam might break. There are several theories about whyBurke didn't deliver the message. One story says that he stopped in a tent saloon where the customers laughed at his warning, so Burke stayed and drank with them.

It probably didn't matter much, anyhow. At 2 A.M. February 22, the Walnut Grove Dam burst with a terrible roar. A wall of water estimated at 100 feet high boomed down through Jesus Canyon. The few witnesses who survived the flood said the water was lighted by a weird fluorescence in an otherwise pitch-black and stormy night. The construction and mining camps were obliterated instantly. No one knows how many people were killed in those camps and the communities below, but at least 83 bodies were found. The wall of water roared on through the town of Wickenburg, heavily damaging the farm of founder Henry Wickenburg.

Twelve miles below Wickenburg, the water washed away the tiny community of Seymour, built too close to the channel of the Hassayampa. Why worry about a river that looked dry most of the time?

The flood damaged farms in the Buckeye area, west of Phoenix, before it finally rolled into the larger channel of the Gila River.

Rescuers from Phoenix and Prescott scoured the river for days, finding a few survivors and many bodies stripped of their clothes by the terrible force of the water. Years later skeletons were still found along the banks of the Hassayampa.

The Phoenix Daily Herald reported on what one search party found: "They say the Hassayampa is swept clean from the upper dam to its mouth. Its canyon walls are ground smooth. Debris of all kinds, animals, provisions, buildings and trees are scattered everywhere. For the first two miles the water wall must have been 100 feet high. Thirty bodies were seen by the party. Our Phoenix delegation met parties from Prescott, Congress and other localities, all united in the sad work of identifying the dead. In one grave six miles from Wickenburg, 18 victims sleep peacefully awaiting God's Judgment Day."

The roaring waters carried away at least two treasures, and buried them in the sands of the Hassayampa. As far as anyone knows, they are still there.

The first was the safe in the store operated by Pat Browl at the lower construction camp. Browl, who somehow survived the flood, said the safe had $7,500 in it, mostly gold and cash entrusted to him by miners. Presumably, the safe lies deep in the sandy bed of the Hassayampa.

Browl spent much of the rest of his life as a bartender at an establishment on Prescott's famous Whiskey Row, telling the story of the vanished safe to anyone who would listen. And plenty of folks are interested in the missing safe and its contents. The late Nel Cooper, who owned a ranch just above the damsite, told me that every time someone wrote about the missing safe, treasure hunters swarmed along the Hassayampa from Wagoner to Wickenburg.

The other missing treasure, or treasures, was from Seymour. A merchant identified only as Mother Conger was found naked and shivering in the trees alongside the Hassayampa. She told rescuers she had lost $1,500 in gold coins hidden in the ceiling of her store. And her safe was missing, but I find no reports of what it may have contained.

The Hassayampa still floods from time to time. Maybe some lucky treasure hunter will find that the latest torrent unearthed Pat Browl's safe or Mother Conger's gold coins.

Or maybe the stories are made up. Remember the reputation of the Hassayampa, posted in a Wickenburg museum: Hassayampa is its name, And the title to its fame Is a wondrous quality known Today from sea to sea. Those who drink its waters Bright, Red man, white man, Boor or knight, Girls or women, boys Or men, Never tell the truth again.