Roadside Rest

The Saga of the Corpse Called Sylvester Arizona's Widely Traveled Mummy

One of Arizona's all-time favorite tall tales goes like this: Following a fierce dust storm, a desert traveler spies a sombrero perched upon the gritty ground. In hope that he has found a treasure, he grabs the hat. But he is surprised to uncover the head of a living cowboy buried by the storm.

"I'll get a shovel and dig you out," says the Samaritan.

"Better go to town and borrow a tractor," says the cowboy. "I'm a-sittin' on my horse!"

Now comes brother Louis C. Lassabatere of Palm Desert, California, who relates a similar yarn, this one sworn to be true.

"During World War II, as a kid of 18, I was stationed at Yuma at a flight school operated by the Army Air Corps. We endured storms in which all the hot, dry sand in creation seemed to migrate into our tents. It was miserable sand in everything. During the spring and summer of 1944, storms repeatedly uncovered and reburied sections of the Old Plank Road that once carried cars across the dunes. During a lull, some buddies and I were hiking along the exposed redwood planks, looking for antique bottles.

"In the distance, I noticed an object that appeared to be a large wrinkled brown blanket. Turned out to be the carcass of a horse fallen on its side, and the body of a man, fully clothed, huddled against the horse. Apparently they were caught in a storm and perished."

The more remarkable, when Lou and his party alerted authorities, it was determined that the horseman and his steed had been dehydrated by the elements and were perfectly preserved as mummies, complete to saddle, tack, pistol, and personal effects. For years haunted by the memory, Lou recently has sought a copy of a local newspaper article that reported upon his discovery. "I only glanced at the original story and didn't think to save it," says Lou. "Young as I was, I was rather miffed that they didn't give me credit for the discovery."

So, an unfinished story. But we have another such tale, satisfyingly more settled: the saga of Sylvester, a fully documented and widely traveled Arizona mummy. Sylvester is not just a rumor or the subject of a yellowing press clipping. To some, Sylvester is so bad, he's awful. To others, he is so bad, he's wonderful. Good or bad, he's real.

After decades of moving throughout the United States, Sylvester has been granted a permanent home in Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe on the Seattle, Washington, waterfront. Proprietor Joe James and his family rate Sylvester as "our greatest single attraction."

Little is known of Sylvester as a living person. Two Arizona cowboys discovered the corpse in 1895 while riding across the alkali flats west of Gila Bend. A contemporary coroner attributed death to a bullet wound in the left side. In later times, scientists, including a modern county medical examiner and Smithsonian archaeologists, deduced that the victim was about 45 years old, was tall and fat, and was slain on a day of great heat and low humidity. Total dehydration was likely completed within 24 hours, leaving Sylvester preserved in every detail: hair, blue eyes, mustache, teeth, and nails. In the process, his weight shrank from 235 pounds to 135. His skin acquired a deep mahogany hue.

In Yuma, where he was first taken, efforts at identification failed. He was temporarily propped up in a secondhand store. But Sylvester was too big for Yuma. He was packed off to a carnival in Texas; put on display in a Midwestern sideshow; exhibited at Seattle's Alaska Yukon Exposition in 1909 and San Francisco's Panama-Pacific Exposition in 1915. Sylvester became a star. During the Great Depression, when Americans had few pennies to squander on freak shows, Sylvester all but disappeared. He was sold for $35 to a San Jose, California, physician. Of a macabre wit, the doctor had a false bottom built into his living room sofa, placed Sylvester in the compartment, and covered the vault with heavy plate glass stout enough to support its cushions and guests. When entertaining, the medical man thought it great fun to invite his guests to remove their cushions and see what they had been sitting on. Then, when the doc himself passed on to a more dignified resting place, his heirs hired out Sylvester for another round of carnival appearances. Barkers came up with myths: Sylvester was an alien smuggled across the border and double-crossed by his guides; Sylvester was in reality the remains of John Wilkes Booth; Sylvester was an Arizona cow-puncher who got drunk, passed out in the sun, and just died and dried. Maybe a publicity stunt, a feeble attempt was made by Arizonans to reopen the Sylvester murder case for, obviously, Sylvester didn't shoot himself, dig a hole, and pull the sand in on top. The investigation got nowhere. More than 40 years ago, the Seattle curiosity shop acquired Sylvester. Ever since, the mum-my has stood inside a glazed display case. Some viewers deem the incarceration to be cruel. Others approve of Sylvester's public exhibition and praise the James family for importing for him a companion mummy "Sylvia." She is described as Spanish, in her 30s, dating to the early 19th century. She was discovered in the moun-tains of Central America.

Thus the Saga of Sylvester continues. But as for Lou Lassabatere's long-lost discovery, that story remains unfinished for now.