THE TRAIL OF GRAVES ALONG HIGHWAY 60

THE TRAIL OF GRAVES

The western end of what is now that splendid modern highway, U.S. 60 from Phoenix to the Colorado River, is an old, old trail.Like the old trails of the Orient and the Far East, Highway 60, too, is well-marked by the graves of the adventurers and pioneers who made their way across the desert wastes, before there were any tracks to follow.

Legions of unknowns, however, lie beneath the malapai, the ocotillos, and saguaros, their graves 'unmarked and their lives and deeds unsung in song or legend.

In that vast valley between the Harcuvar and Harquahala Mountains, on a trail where great herds were driven in pioneer days, are many lone graves, one of which might easily have been that of the cowboy who asked in his dying request that he be not buried in this lonesome valley where the coyotes howl o'er his grave.

On a gentle slope of the hill that overlooks the ruins of the ghost town of Ehrenberg and the Colorado River is the well-known Ehrenberg cemetery. Hundreds of graves here are unmarked, while the inscriptions on many wooden and stone headstones are barely visible and hard to decipher. Men were buried in this cemetery before the Civil War, many of them, no doubt, still wearing their boots.

One of the strangest of the older graves is found on the site of La Paz, once a booming mining camp of 5,000 souls, Buried in a strange and alien land, far from the sacred Mecca of all devout Mohammedans, lies the camel driver Hadjali.

Up the river near Ehrenberg. This grave bears only a date and the sign of a brand.

One of the oldest inhabitants of the district, a Mexican, says that in 1867 a stranger rode into the town of La Paz. He came from the East over the old trail, and his mount was a beautiful black horse that showed the breeding of a racer, as was a second horse, which carried his pack.

The stranger attracted no little attention, as it was not common for an outfit of this type to be seen in the rough mining camp. The newcomer seemed to have plenty of money, and he spent it freely. Naturally, he soon had plenty of friends to help him enjoy the hospitality of the saloons and other resorts of the camp.

Several weeks passed, and several other strangers rode into camp. Gunplay flared, and the generous stranger lay dead, a second late on the draw. The latest arrivals stated that they had come from the Lone Star State, and that they had been trailing their outlaw for months. The man, they said, had killed and robbed one of the ranchers in the cattle country. The horses were part of the loot.

As it was unethical in those parts of the West to ask a stranger his name or from whence he came, the friends he had made were at a loss as to how to mark his grave. They finally decided to bury him with his boots on, and to etch the headstone with the brand on his horse, J-C, and the year of his sudden death, 1867. The marked stone is still over the grave, and the inscription plainly visible.

Buried in a strange and alien land, far from the sacred Mecca of all devout Mohammedans, lies Philip Tedro, or Hadjali, the Greek-Arabian camel driv-er. Hi Jolly, as he was called by the soldiers and early-day desert rats, was buried at Quartzsite in 1903, at the age of 75. He was brought from Arabia in 1857 as one of several camel drivers imported by the American government to pilot the strange-looking beasts across the desert from El Paso to the Pacific Coast.

Jefferson Davis, then secre-tary of war, had conceived the idea of using camels on the American desert as beasts of burden and express carriers for the various Army posts over the Southwest. The camels were not exactly a suc-cess as they had been used to the sands of Arabia and the Levant, and the flint and quartz rocks of Arizona cut their feet. They were finally turned out to shift for them-selves, and year by year killed off by stockmen and the forc-es of nature.

Reports state that all of the Arabian drivers returned to their native lands but Hadjali, who spent a lonely life among strangers and infidel Chris-tians. Hadjali's mother was Greek, while his father was an Arab. Early in life he embraced the faith of Islam.

The copper plate over his grave was donated in 1927 by the New Cornelius Copper Company of Ajo, through the efforts of George W.P. Hunt, then governor of Arizona, and Quartzsite citizens. Plans are now under way to build a stone monument over the camel driver's grave, and to inset the copper inscription plate.

One of the best-preserved as well as most interesting of the graves along U.S. 60 is that of Henry Wickenburg at the town that bears his name. His final resting place is marked by a well-built concrete vault. The inset headstone bears the dates 1820-1905.

Most students of Arizona history are familiar with the life of Henry Wickenburg. As an old Indian fighter and prospector, he is supposed to have accidentally found the great Vulture mine while fleeing from Indians. Others say that he traded a mule to an Indian for the secret of the location of the Vulture.

Unfriendly Indians were not the only dangers Henry Wickenburg had to fear. Seven unmarked graves still exist near the old Wickenburg home as mute evidence of a terrific gun battle the doughty pioneer of the Hassayampa once had with a band of gold-hungry bandits.

The graves of the unlucky bandits lie near the entrance to Wickenburg's famous tunnel, which is 160 feet long. He built the tunnel as a hideout, to use when in trouble. The tunnel leads into the rear of his house.

Not far from Wickenburg, on the banks of the Hassayampa, is a grave in which the entire Barney Martin family is buried. They were murdered on July 22, 1886.

At Salome, “Where She

Old prospector friends brought their richest ore samples and nuggets, of which the eight-foot monument is built.

Danced,” is the grave of the man who is considered by many as the desert's best publicity agent. This man was Dick Wick Hall, who was born in 1877, and who died an untimely death in 1926, as the result of infected teeth.

Had Hall lived, he probably would have achieved a literary niche along with those other masters of basic American humor of the homespun variety, Mark Twain and Will Rogers. At the time of his death, The Saturday Evening Post had contracted to take his entire literary output.

Dick Wick Hall, aside from putting Salome on the map as “the healthiest spot in existence,” where a frog lived that had never had a bath, where golf was played in gopher holes, had more serious aims in view. The building of a modern highway from Phoenix to Los Angeles by Salome and Ehrenberg was his dream.

He also gave much of his time to the development of the mining district around Salome.

He was buried in the yard by his office, along the U.S. 60 roadside, at his request. Old-timers say that never in history have desert wildflowers blossomed as they did that spring in 1926.

Also at his request, not a tear was shed at the funeral.

The building of the Hall monument is a touching story in itself. Old prospector friends of Hall's from many miles around brought their richest ore samples and nuggets, of which the eight-foot monument is built.

A white cross as seen in the center of the tomb is made of crystal white quartz, richly flecked with gold.

A bronze tablet in the center of the monument is a replica of Hall's photograph.

Some of those old-timers who lie by the wayside have been buried a long; long time. We wonder, however, if they have really missed much.