HOW APACHE LEAP GOT ITS NAME

FIRST PUBLISHED IN OCTOBER 1940 How Apache Leap Got Its Name

Text by JAMES M. BARNEY Illustration by GREG HARGREAVES That portion of present-day Arizona lying between the Gila River and the Mogollon Rim and east of the Verde River was, in olden days, one of the most dangerous regions in the entire Southwest. For years after Arizona's early settlement, only the most reckless and venture-some hunters and trappers dared to invade this veritable terra incognita the very heart of Apacheland where certain and sudden death lurked behind every rock and thicket.

In those years, this area was a rich and wonderful land, well-watered by clear, sparkling streams that flowed in wild abandon through its shady glens and valleys, and covered with a luxuriant growth of succulent grasses and shrubs and trees of many kinds. It was an ideal hunting ground for the Indian tribes that dwelt within its confines before the coming of the white man whose advent always presaged ruination for valley, stream, and woodland.

Here the Apache tribes had lived from A.D. 1500 or somewhat later, jealously guarding their pastoral paradise from intrusion and invasion. The Pinal Apaches, a fierce and warlike tribe, wandered back and forth in the Pinal range and adjacent mountains under the shadow of the Mogollon Rim; the Coyoteros had their pasture lands and rancherias; the Tonto Apaches possessed hunting and planting grounds in the sheltered and secluded Tonto Basin. These three Apache tribes displayed consistent Enmity toward the whites who trespassed upon their domain. But finally a small group of farmers settled on the south side of the Gila, some distance below its junction with the San Pedro, and commenced to till its rich bottomlands. In time the little farming community became of some importance and was named the Florence Settlement after a sister of Richard C. McCormick, second governor of Arizona Territory. Its location, however at the very threshold of Apacheria was unfavorable for safety and tranquility. The isolated settlement was exposed to continuous raids; stock was stolen and driven away, and many a traveler was assassinated along the lonely roads and trails.

When the Arizona Military District was created and Gen. George Stoneman assigned in July, 1870 to its command, he quickly realized that to cope successfully with the Apache menace and afford protection to the farmers along the bottomlands of the Gila, the San Pedro, and the Santa Cruz, it would be necessary to establish military posts in the very heart of Apacheland.

He located a camp on Queen Creek, called Picket Post, between the Gila River and the Pinal Mountains, where he stationed a small force of soldiers. The site of this post, or camp, was some 30 miles to the northeast of Florence, near the base of a rugged, massive mountain once called Tordillo Peak, but which, after the establishment of Picket Post, was given the name of Picket Post Butte. In the days when the camp at Picket Post was still occupied by soldiers, Tordillo Peak was often scaled by them for the purpose of sending heliograph signals to units scouting in the nearby mountains. In later years, the Picket Post location became the town of Pinal, where the stamp mill of the Silver King Mine reduced its rich ores. Then General Stoneman carved out a trail along the steep slopes of the Pinal Mountains to the summit of the range, where he established Camp Pinal. This trail is still known as Stoneman's Grade. But before General Stoneman could put into operation his plans for an offensive campaign against the Apaches, he was relieved of his command, resigning, shortly after, from the Army.

The gradual agricultural developments that took place along the fertile bottomlands of the Gila, San Pedro, and Santa Cruz rivers furnished the ever-watchful Apaches with fine opportunities for making raids. As time passed, their attacks became more and more persistent and destructive. Provoked and exasperated soldiers and settlers repeatedly pursued the marauders across the rolling desert country and up into their mountain strongholds without being able to inflict any punishment upon them. After reaching the mountains, the Indians generally disappeared completely - as if the very ground had swallowed them up. The ease with which the Apaches slipped away from their pursuers puzzled the soldiers and pioneers for many years.

A few miles east of Picket Post Butte at the upper end of the rolling desert valley of Queen Creek and close to the present-day mining camp of Superior rises another pile of rock called the Big Picacho. An impressive mass of rock whose steep walls have been gashed and eroded by time and the elements, it dominates the immediate landscape.

Unknown to soldiers and settlers alike, a band of Pinal Apaches had established an extensive rancheria on top of this great rampart, which they reached by a pathway known only to themselves. From this elevated position, the Indian lookouts had an extensive view of the surrounding country and could keep watch on the movements of troops and citizen outfits sent out to punish them. By means of smoke signals, they could also communicate to tribal allies the position, strength, and activities of those who would destroy them.

The Apaches, feeling perfectly safe in their mountain stronghold, had neglected to post lookouts on the trail to warn them of danger.

The location of this Apache village was suspected, however, from the fact that, now and then, a solitary Indian lookout would be seen perched upon the jagged cliffs of the Big Picacho, well out of harm's way, watching the activities at Picket Post. But all military attempts to make an effective attack upon the Indians proved futile. At length, emboldened by their forays, the Apaches raided a ranch near Florence and drove away a herd of cattle. The Florence settlers, after obtaining help from the friendly Pimas, organized a pursuing party and patiently followed the trail of the raiders for several days.

The war chief of the Pimas was Capt. John D. Walker, a native of Nauvoo, Illinois. He was himself descended from one of the Illinois tribes. After being discharged from Army service at the close of the Civil War, he settled among the Pimas at Sacaton and was adopted into the tribe. He soon mastered the Pima language and, to all intents and purposes, became an Indian and one of the big chiefs. Having studied medicine during his younger days, he also became the leading medicine man of the tribe, and had the reputation of not only being a good physician but a man of more than ordinary intelligence.

When the Arizona Volunteers were organized in 1865-66 for service against the Apaches, Walker raised Company B, composed entirely of Pima Indians. He was made the company's captain. It is said that he dressed in strictly Pima style, his costume consisting of nothing more than a breechclout, and that when engaged in battle with the Apaches he whooped and yelled like the other warriors and could not be distinguished from them.

After much tracking and trailing, the secret pathway leading to the Apache encampment was discovered. The Apaches, feeling perfectly safe in their mountain stronghold, had neglected to post lookouts on the trail to warn them of danger. This oversight enabled the settlers and their Pima allies to steal upon them by night and to post themselves advantageously among the rocks near the Apaches' rancheria, which was located only a short distance back from the brow of the precipitous bluff that overlooks the valley of Queen Creek. At daybreak the settlers and Pimas under Captain Walker made a sudden and determined attack upon the surprised Apaches, and wrought terrible havoc among them with their first volleys. Menaced upon three sides by continuous gunfire, the Apaches at first fired a few shots at their assailants, then - noting the hopelessness of their situation - threw down their weapons and, with raised hands in token At daybreak the settlers and Pimas under Captain Walker made a sudden and determined attack upon the surprised Apaches, and wrought terrible havoc among them with their first volleys. Menaced upon three sides by continuous gunfire, the Apaches at first fired a few shots at their assailants, then - noting the hopelessness of their situation - threw down their weapons and, with raised hands in token of surrender, advanced toward the attacking party. The latter, sensing their advantage and remembering the cruelties that these same Apaches had inflicted upon murdered comrades, refused to accept their surrender and continued to pour a murderous fire into them. Those found in the Indian rancheria included women and children, but in the excitement of battle, the attacking party paid little heed to the sex or age of their enemies.

When about two-thirds of the band had been killed or maimed by the hail of bullets fired at them, the remainder retreated in the only direction possible: toward the westerly edge of the mountain which, on that side, broke off abruptly into sheer cliffs, hundreds of feet high. Without a moment's hesitation, the fleeing Apaches threw themselves over the towering cliffs in the faint hope of escaping fatal injury. But the leap into space was too great, and all those who sought that avenue of escape, were crushed and broken on the rocks below. The entire Apache band some 75 in number was wiped out, and the surprise was so complete that few, if any, casualties were suffered by those making the attack.

The decisive result of this fight broke forever the power of the Pinal Apaches in that region. From that time, the Big Picacho has been known as Apache Leap a most appropriate name, perpetuating, as it does, a tragic incident in the early history of Arizona. For years after this bloody engagement, Apache skeletons could be seen wedged in the crevices of the cliffs over which they had leaped. Those who have been sufficiently curious and energetic to scale the rough and broken slopes of the big mountain reported finding bleaching bones and beads and arrowheads and other reminders of the conflict that took place on the top of Apache Leap.