194110 Desert Magazine 1941 October

8/14/2019 194110 Desert Magazine 1941 October

1/50

M f * A G * A -

.


2/50

Desert Folks areFriendly . . .Bremerton, WashingtonGentlemen:"The Desert" is as refreshing as a desertbreeze. I feel I am entering vacationland everytime I lift the cover.In April , my husband and I drove east toDetroit, then south to Florida and returned bywa y of Texas, NewMexico, Arizona, Utah, etc.We found a copy of Desert to be an open pass-port through the country, and we met the

friendliest people in the world at Tucumcariand Winslow.As we drove from Albuquerque to Wins low1 read Betty Woo ds' article "Malpais F rontier"(April issue) and felt wewere receiving guideservice.1 believe your policy of "noobjectionable ad-vertising" contributes greatly to your success.D O R O T H Y N E L S O N Lesson in Navajo . . .Boulder City, NevadaDear Sir:In theAugust, 1941, issue of theDesert Mag-azine, there is a most interesting article, "Archin the Redrocks" by Richard Van Vallcen-burgh. This article, telling of his trip to theisolated, little traveled region where the"Tse gahwoots 'onih" or Perforated Rock isfound, ends on page 27 of that issue. On thesame page is the description by Jimmie Ellisonof Window Rock, Arizona, which was the sub-ject for theJune Landmark contest. Miss Ellisoncalls the "Hole-in-the-Rock" by the same name,both English and Indian, as the arch discov-ered by Mr. Valkenburgh.

My purpose in writing this letter is to ask youto straighten out the contradiction of these twoarticles. It has aroused my curiosity as to whichof the two formations is really the "Tse gah-woots 'onih ," and which of the authors is cor-rect. If you would do me the great favor ofcomparing these stories and letting me knowthe answer to my query either by letter or by anotice in the next issue of the Magazine, Iwould appreciate it very much.B E T T E M O R I T ZMiss Moritz: That is a very proper ques-tion. The answer is that tse gahwoots'onihin theNavajo language is a common noun,no t a place name, and applies to any hole-in-the-rock formation of the same generaltype as Window rock or Redrock arch orRainbow bridge. R.H. Fig Tree John's Uniiorm . . .

Coachella, CaliforniaDesert Magazine:In an article about Fig Tree John by NinaPaul Shumway and Leland Yost in your Janu-ary, 1941, issue it was stated that they did notknow where he obtained the army uniform theold fellow loved to wear, and which gave himsuch a picturesque appearance.The story told me by Tom and Tim McCoy,who drove stage from Yuma to San Bernardinoin the old days, is th is :Once in the late '80s Gen. Miles had hismilitary headquarters in Los Angeles. Some ofhis men, returning from Yuma, lost their wayand after much hardship reached Fig Tree 'sspring near present Fish springs. They werefamished for water and might have suffered ifth e old Indian had not allowed them to drinktheir fill. He kept them there overnight andsent them on their way. He expressed great ad-miration for their blue uniforms.Later when new uniforms were issued, thecaptain of the detail, who had taken a liking toold John, sent his discarded uniform to FigTree by messenger. The stovepipe hat was notpart of the uniform, but was correct eveningdress for that period, and wassent along instead

of the regulation cap more or less as a joke.J U N E A. W. McCARROLL

nRattlers Wanted . . .Randsburg, CaliforniaDear Sir:We read your magazine every month and en-joy it very much. Now I am looking for someinformation. Could you tell me of any onedownyour way who has live rattlesnakes for sale? Icatch lots of them up here but not the reallarge ones. I will appreciate any information.MRS. A. P. S N O O Ko Camino delDiablo .San Luis, Sonora, MexicoEditor, Desert Magazine:American newspaper reporters do not appearto have a very clear understanding about thehistorical old highway Camino del Diablo .Early in August seven Mexicans died ofthirst on the northern Sonora desert enroutefrom Sonoyta to San Luis. All the newspaperscarried front page stories saying the tragedyoccurred on Camino del Diablo . This is incor-rect. El Camino del Diablo is the old route fol-lowed by the Mexican gold-seekers from 1849through the California and Arizona gold rushdays. From Sonoyta the old trail is on theAmerican side of the boundary by way of Tulewell and Tinajas Altas to Yuma.

The road on which the Mexicans met deaththis summer is a military road built by Gen.Abelardo Rodriguez at the time of the last Mex-ican revolution. Gen.Rodriguez, who was thengovernor of theNorthern Distr ic t of Baja Cali-fornia, remained loyal to the central govern-ment, and built a road from San Luis east to-ward Nogales so he could send a military ex-pedition against the rebels in northern Sonora.This road, of course, is entirely on the Mexi-can side of the line. It roughly parallels theCamino del Diablo , but is many miles southof it betweeen San Luis and Sonoyta.Fo r the sake of accurate history, I just want-ed to put your American reporters right in thismatter. A L F R E D M I R A N D Oo e oClose toNature . . .San Jose, CaliforniaGentlemen:After reading a letter on the back of frontcover of the August issue of the Desert Maga-zine it seemed necessary to add a word or twoto that subscriber's letter from Utah. As hestates, "The articles byMarshal South areworththe price, etc." To simply add my whole heart-ed approval to that statement does notseem ade-quate to express my appreciation of those arti-cles by Mr. South and it is more than likelythat there are more readers like myself whohave put off writing a word in that respect.The first thing that happens when I open theD . M. is a search for Mr. Souths article andshould there ever come a t ime when he is unableto write an article please have himsimply state"why not." Such would amply reward thosewho fully appreciate his messages, which hetranslates from the Great Spirit, in words thatare understandable, to hungry souls who areunable to comprehend the blessings of Natu re .In our mad scramble for material gain we aremissing the wealth of beauty so aptly picturedby Mr. South. It is people like him,with theirspark of love, received from living in close har-mony with the Great Spirit, who enable us tosee, through their eyes, in their word pictures,what we long to be able to see.W m . C. C H A N D L E R

Enterprise that Flopped .Palmdale, CaliforniaMemo to Mr. Henderson:Everyone who writes about Joshua treesgives a different version of the notorious at-tempt to convert them into paper pulp, an en-terprise of several years ago that was reportedto have been backed by English capital, butprovidentially flopped.One story is that thestate cracked down with

a protective law before the exploiters got theirstart. Another is that they built a mill and senta shipload of pulp to England for processing,bu t it soured on the way and had to be thrownoverboard. A third is that having built the millthey found they had no water.Maybe youhave the facts. If not, there mustbe some readers of Desert Magazine whohavefirst-hand information. It seems to me it wouldbe worthwhile to get the truth and print andsettle the question. CARLYLE ELLISDesert Magazine will welcome any in-formation in answer to Mr. Ellis' question.

Mystery of theMazeDear Sir: Kansas City, MissouriAm just indulging in my yearly literary ef-fort, that of writing to the editor. That is oneof the things a year's subscription to a maga-zine entitles one, so to prevent it from expir-ing, will try to write a properly worded letter.Having missed the first years numbers, I donot know if you ever printed an article aboutthe so-called Indian Maze south of Needles onU. S. 66 or not.But having visited that curious place twotimes and analyzed it, as it were, I have come tothe conclusion that it is not an Indian maze atall. Tha t is it mayhave been made by Indiansbu t it wasn' intended to be a maze. Some onewho couldn't solve the thing called it that andthe rest of the public took it for granted. Butif you ever print anything about it, and I be-lieve a well illustrated article would be interest-ing, go up there and look it over with this ex-planation in your mind and see if I didn't comenear the solution of the curiosity.

Several small hill tops are covered with fur-rows, shallow, and ridges, notvery high. Theseshallow furrows run in parallel rows and do notattempt to form anything like a maze, but justrun across the hilltops in parallel lines. Theychange direction according to the topographyof theground, and I think an aerial view wouldlook like farms plowed in different directions.Even the little ravines are scored like the hill-tops. This couldn't have been an ancient Indiancorn patch because even barrel cactus seem tohave a time living on the waterless, sun-bakedplace.Here is what I think caused this maze. Indi-ans, or some one, found gem stones, maybeturquoise, on these hills and raked the surface

into rows of gravel searching for stones, ormaybe someone found gold in nuggets, andthey raked the surface of the ground to findmore. Thegravel raked up is nearly all coveredwith that sun varnish you told about not longago, and not being a rock-hound and knowingall about various minerals, I believe it wouldpay some rockhound to visit theplace and theymight find something good.Thank you for your patience Mr. Hendersonin reading this, and I promise to not bother youthis year, unless I think of something interest-ing. FREDERIC C. BUTLER

Dear F.C.B.: I've read and listened to ahundred theories regarding the mysteriousmaze, and haven't met one yet that seemedentirely plausible. I hope that at some fu-ture date Desert Magazine tt'ill beable topresent the right answer. Thanks for yoursuggestion. R.H.

THE DESERT MAGAZINE


3/50

D E S E R T

OCT. 4 Ceremonial dance at Nambe In-dian Pueblo, NewMexico.5 Deer season opens in Nevada.Continues through Oct. 20 inHumboldt county, through Nov.3 in Nye county.9-11 Annual convention of Utah StateConference of Social Workers,Newhouse hotel, Salt Lake City.W m. H. Callahan, Provo, chair-man.10-11 NewMexico and Mountain StatesHotelmen's convention, Albu-querque, N. M. J. B. Herndon,Albuquerque Hilton hotel, N. M.president.10-11 Arizona chapter, National Ass'n.of Postmasters, meets in Prescott.10-11 State conference of Daughters ofthe American Revolution at SilverCity, New Mexico.

11-12 Horse race meet, Las Vegas, Ne-vada. E. Cragin, El Portal Bldg.,chairman.11-12 Second annual Mojave Deser tGem and Mineral show, BeaconTavern, Barstow, California.12-13 Mountain States association, com-prised of chamber of commerceofficials from 7 S.W. states, meetsin Albuquerque. Roy H. Smith,Tucumcari, state president.12-26 Valley quail season for Nevada.Dates may vary in counties, mostof them allowing only a fewdays.Bag limit, 10.15-17 Nat iona l Reclamation associa-tion convention, Phoenix, Ari-zona.16-NOV. 15 Arizona deer season northof Gila river except where U. S.70 crosses river at Coolidge damit will follow the highway to Su-perior and return to the river overthe Superior-Kelvin road.17-18 Apache county fair, St. Johns,Arizona.18-19 Las Vegas, Nevada, horse racemeet.18-19 Fifth annual Gold Rush, Mojave,C aliforn ia. R o d e o , p a r a d e s ,Round-up dance, free barbecue.Sponsored by Exchange club,William Vail, chairman.22-25 New Mexico Educational asso-ciation convention, Albuquerque.23-26 Days of '49 celebration at Cool-idge, Arizona. Rodeo, carnival,dances. American Legion spon-sors.24-26 Annual Salton Sea boat races, in-board and outboard motors. C. A.Washburn, Indio, chairman.25-26 Sierra Club treks to Desert Cen-ter, California, for weekend ofhiking and campfire tales. "Des-ert Steve" Ragsdale, leader.31 Nevada's 77th Admission daycelebration, Carson City. FeaturesNevada I n d i a n s , h is torica l"Pageant of the Past." BernardC. Hartung, chairman.31-NOV. 6 Ogden Livestock show, Un-ion stockyards, Ogden, Utah.

OC TO BE R, 194 1

Volume 4 OCTOBER, 1941 Number 12COVER JOSHUA TREE, Photograph by Nicholas N. Kozloff,

San Bernardino, California.LETTERS C o m m e n t f r o m D e s e r t M a g a z i n e r e a d e r s . . . 2CALENDAR Current events on the Desert 3PHOTOGRAPHY Prize winning photographs in August 4LOST MINE Lost Dutch Oven Mine, by REXFORD BELLAMY . 5QUIZ A Test of your Desert knowledge 8LANDMARK Grapevine Canyon, by MRS. PERCY TRAIN . . 10ART OF LIVING D e s e r t R e f u g e , b y M A R S H A L S O U T H . . . . 1 1CACTI O p u n t i a r a m o s i s s i m a , by ROYM I L L E R . . . 13P E R S O N A L I T Y H e r m i t of I m p a s s a b l e C a n y o n

B y C H A R L E S K E L L Y 14POETRY Sun Worshipers, and other poems 16WILDLIFE Winged Visitors of the Desert

By FRANK BENE 17GHOST TOWNS Bonanza on Treasure Hill

By G. DALE HAMILTON 20TRAVELOG Chanting Rocks of El Cajon

By ROBERT J. SCHULZ 24PLACE NAMES Origin of names in the Southwest 26MINING Briefs from the Desert region 28NEWS Here and There on the Desert 29FICTION H a r d R o c k S h o r t y of D e a t h V a l l e y

B y L O NG A R R I S O N 3 0C O N T E S T M o n t h l y p r i z e c o n t e s t a n n o u n c e m e n t . . . . 3 3WEATHER Desert temperatures in August 33GEM CUTTING Anyone Can Cut Gem Stones

By WILLIAM T. BAXTER 34HOBBY Gems and Minerals

Edited by ARTHUR L. EATON 37CONTRIBUTORS Writers of the Desert 41BOOKS H a b i t o f E m p i r e , a n d o t h e r b o o k r e v i e w s . . . 4 2INDEX Complete Index to Volume 4, Desert Magazine . 43COMMENT J u s t B e t w e e n Y o u a n d M e , b y t h e E d i t o r . . . . 4 7

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing C ompany, 636State Street, El C entro, C alifornia. Entered as second class matter October 11, 19*7, atthe post office at El C entro, C alifornia, under the Act of March 3, 1879. T itle registeredN o. 358866 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1941 by the Desert PublishingC ompany. Perm ission to reproduce contents must be secured from the editor in writing.EA NDA LL HEN DERS ON , Editor. LUCILE HAR RIS, Associate Editor .Richard B. O lder, A dvertising R epresentative, 416 Wall St., Los Angeles, Calif. Phone TR 1501Manuscripts and photographs submitted must be accompanied by full return post-age. The Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscriptsor photographs although due care will be exercised for their safety. Subscribers shouldsend notice of change of address to the circulation department by the fifth of the monthpreceding issue. S UB SC R I P T I O N R A T E SOne year, including gold-embossed loose leaf binder $3.00Two years, including binders for both years 5.00Y ou maydeduct 50c each for binders if not desired.C anadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extra.

A ddress correspondence to Desert Magazine, 636 State St., El C entro, C alifornia.3


4/50

GatkeSialBy ALBERTA G. MACHENReno, Nevada

First prize winner in Desert Maga-zine's August photographic contestis this photo of a gorge near Panaca,Nevada, named in 1894 for the spireand tower formations rising from thedepths of the gorge, the tops of whichare just visible at lower right. Takenwith a Kcdak 620 Jr., Series III. LensKodak Anastigmat f6.3, lens stop f32;1/50 sec. Eastman Super XX film,Eastman color filter.

By G. E. KIRKPATRICKSan Diego, CaliforniaWinner of the second prize inthe regular monthly contest isthis photo of a group of palms atThousand Palms Oasis in Coa-chella valley. Camera was a31/4x41/4 Graflex. Aropan film,K 2 filter, at f 16, 1/100 sec. Time

about 6:30 a. m.

Special Me.iit .The following photos werejudged to have special merit:"Desert Silhouette," by F. Clif-ford Hanchette, Monrovia, Cali-fornia."Nolina Blossoms," by DorisC. Prisstley, Pomona, California."Night Falls on the Mojave,"by Ricky Tanzi, Los Angeles,California.

T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


5/50

Tom Schofield neither denies nor affirms that his famous old mine has been redis-covered. "There are minerals enough here for everybo dy," he remarks.

L o s t D u t c h O v e n M i n eit ve&n

By REXFORD BELLAMY^ / OR nearly half a century the searchfor the Lost Dutch Oven mine inthe Mojave desert has not ceased.Searchers have come from many points inthe United States, foreign countries too,scores of them every year.The lure is kept fresh by a continuallyrepeated story of unmeasured riches, aniron Dutch oven filled with "virgingold," an old abandoned minediscov-eredthen lost again.Each time the story of Thomas Scho-field's discovery of the Lost Dutch Oven

appears in print a new influx of lost-mine-searchers streams into the auto camps atDanby, Chambless, Amboy, Essex andother towns along Highway 66 in Califor-nia. No doubt some of them are out therenow. The writer recently talked to onewho said he had been looking for the oldmine for nearly three months.Is there any truth in this alluring tale?Was any such mine ever discovered?" N o , " many weary discouraged search-

ers will mutter to themselves. "No, it's afake. And a cruel one at that."But others tell a different story.

Was the legendary Lost DutchO ven m ine of the Mo jave desertin the C lipper moun tains or theO ld Wom an mountains? TomSchofield, who first told the storyof finding the rich gold, reportedit w as in the C lippers. But henever went back to itand nowa new generation of mining menhave relocated a valuable de-posit which answers the descrip-tion of the old Dutch O venexcept that it is in the O ldWoman range 20 miles to thesouth. Tom Schofield probablyknows the answer, but he won'ttell. You ca n read this story a nddraw your own conclusions.

"The old mine has been found, and isnow being worked." This is the calm as-surance given by Clifford Gillespie whoholds the lease on the claims. He does notmake the statement boastfully. He admitsfrankly that when he leased the propertyhe had not even read the story of the lostDutch Oven.

Gillespie is a mining mannot a pros-pector. He first became interested in themine one day when he stopped at Danby,California, as he was returning to LosAngeles from claims near Needles.That day at Danby a mining man toldGillespie about a prospector who had re-cently taken out high grade gold ore from

his claim near by. Gillespie went out toinvestigate and found the prospector hadlocated a rich vein. He made extended ex-ploration. This and surveys made for himby Los Angeles mining engineers indicat-ed that the entire, rugged region was richenough in gold deposits to warrant de-velopment.Gillespie learned that the gold ore out-croppings were covered by claims. Even-tually he leased them. One claim coveredan old mine shaft that had been workedpreviously. He sublet some of the leasesbut kept the one covering the old mine forhis own operations. His crew is now blast-

ing a cross-cut tunnel below the old mineshaft. Some of the richest ore tests as highas $500 a ton."At first there was no reason to suspectI had leased the Lost Dutch Oven mine,"explains Mr. Gillespie, "because my leasesare all in the Old Woman mountainsabout 10 m iles south of D anby. Tom Scho-field's lost mine was supposed to be 10miles north of Danby in the Clippermountains. But I was curious enough toread the story."Many versions of the Lost Dutch Ovenmine story have been published since

1 8 9 4 . The following is a composite of sev-eral:All these stories describe the same nar-

O C T O B E R , 1 9 4 1


6/50

Clifford GHlespie holding gold refined from the ore from his tunnel under the LostDutch Oven mine. These ingots are "sponge" gold ready for the mint.row, rock-cleft canyon and other land-marks. All are highly colored by their au-thors, this one no more nor less than therest.All versions of the story state that inJune, 1894, Thomas Schofield traveled200 miles out of the Mojave into Los An-geles. His pockets were f illed with pannedgold and gold ore for assaying. The assayproved his samples to be so fabulouslyrich in gold that the few who learned ofhis f ind became greatly excited.Young Schofield said he had been drill-ing a tunnel in the Clipper mountains insearch of a f low of underground water forthe Santa Fe railroad. In 1894, Danby(like many a desert railroad siding eventoday) had no water supply of its own.

Tom Schofield was experienced indrilling and blasting tunnels in the solidrock. But being a born gold-prospector hespent every spare hour scouring the moun-tains for out-croppings of ore. One dayhe followed tracks of mountain sheep intoa gulch he previously had not explored.He was surprised to see faint traces of anold trail. He followed it to a spring thattrickled from a wall of rock to form a poolat its base.Back-tracking over the trail he tracedit with great difficulty over three lowhills, the hogback of two ranges, and theninto another canyon.By this time he was thoroughly puzzled.He had explored these mountains for along period without ever seeing a human

being. No one at Danby had even men-tioned other prospectors in the region. Butthis evidently was a trail made by men, al- '(hough it had not been used recently.Finally it appeared to end in a blankwall. But desert trails do not end that wayso he carefully retraced his steps and dis-covered faint traces of a path that led up asteep hillside.Here he came to solid rock and the trailwas no longer visible. His curiosity im-pelled him to go on toward two uprightrocks, a cleft in the side of the mountain.The passageway between them was barelywide enou gh for a pack anim al to gothrough.Beyond he picked up the trail again. Itled toward a black mass of rock, like animmense boulder. I t was a conspicuouslandmark. The route skir ted around it.He stopped suddenly and shouted againand again, but received no answer exceptthe echoes.There before him was an old camp.Tent poles were still standing, with shredsof canvas flapping in the breeze. A bedof boughs was covered with a tatteredblanket. A small pile of railroad ties layat one side, some of them split into laggingfor timbering a mine.Nearby were mining tools, drills , axes,picks, shovels, a heavy hammer, all rustedfrom the weather and disuse. Still restingover its fireplace of blackened boulderswas a rather large iron Dutch oven, suchas miners used to bake their sourdoughbread, fry their bacon, and sometimes for

roasting out high grade ore. Tom scrutin-ized everything carefully but could findno clues to the owners, nor why, nor whenthey had left.A distinct trail led on from the aban-doned camp. Tom followed it up themountainside. Perilously close to sheerdrops of hundreds of feet, the crudelymade trail led him over loose slippingrocks to a shaft on the steep slope, un-doubtedly the mine belonging to the own-ers of the abandoned camp.Eagerly Tom set to work to see whetherthis shaft was a dead hole or a once-in-a-lifetime strike. Crushing some of the orehe panned out r ich f indings of gold. Therock most heavily impregnated with goldwas of a bluish quartz formation, a sul-phide, so the assayer described it later. Ashe worked feverishly the sun went downwith its usual desert suddenness, so he wasforced to spend the night at the old de-serted mine. Sleep was out of the questionwith that wealth of gold-bearing ore as abed. And Tom Schofield now consideredit all his own.At daybreak he made further explora-tion of his treasure house. The shaft, henoted, was well timbered at its top with

split railroad ties, the windlass stillr igged with its rope and bucket. He low-ered the bucket and estimated the depth ofT HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


7/50


8/50

Now there is a cool spring near the en-trance of the rock-cleft canyon. It is usedby theminers whohave sublet one of Clif-ford Gillespie's claims a few yards away.Winding upward, we sighted the old-timetrail with the great, black boulder-likemass beyond.On foot we followed the old trail,rounded the big black rock, came upon anold abandoned campsite. Smoke-stainedboulders formed a fireplace. Other boul-ders were arranged in a rectangle that may

have been around a tent. We found tail-ings from past gold pannings, an ancientrusted camp stove, all there in evidence ofpioneer gold prospectors' camp life.From the abandoned campsite weclimbed the old trail along the perilouslysteep canyon side, up to the weatherbeatenwindlass over the old mine that is still tim-bered with split railroad ties just as youngSchofield says he found it nearly 50 yearsago. With the story in hand, we had fol-lowed the ancient trail, checked the fixed

T R U E O R F A L S E Here are 20 new headaches for the desertfans who like to find out how dumborsmartthey are regarding information ofthe Southwest. The subjects include geography, history, bctany, geology, Indiansand the general lore of the desert. It is no test for a one-track mind. Try it any-way, and if you don't know all the answers you w;ll at least learn some new factsabout the most interesting area inUnited States. If you get 10 correct answers youknow more than the average person. If you score 15 you are in a class with thedesert rats. No one but a super-student of the Southwest would answer more than15 correctly. Answers are on page 32.1According togeologists there are three general types of rocks: igneous, sede-mentary and metamorphic. Sandstone belongs to the igneous group.True False2Navajo Indians were breaking and riding wild horses before the white mandiscovered America. Tru e False3It is easier to drive your car over sandy roads when they are wet than whendry. True False4If the government builds a new dam at Bullshead canyon that will be thesixth dam in the Colorado river below Grand Canyon. T rue False5Datura is thename of awild desert plant with narcotic properties.True False6The state university of Arizona is at Phoenix. True False7According tohistory, the Pima Indians often joined forces with the Apachesagainst the white man. True False8The Bright A ngel trail crossing of theColorado river isbelow Navajo bridge.True False9Furnace Creek Inn in Death Valley is operated by Death Valley Scotty.True False

True- False.0Elephant Butte dam is in Arizona.11Sailing vessels from San Francisco once navigated the Colorado river as faras Yuma. True False12Woodpeckers often drill holes and build their nests in Saguaro cacti.True False13Kaiparowitz is the name of a plateau in Utah. True False14It is against the law to usedead ironwood for campfires on the desert.True False15Chuckawalla wells was awatering place on the old Bradshaw road from SanBernardino to La Paz. True False16The Santa Fe railroad follows the approximate route of the old Santa Fe trailto Los Angeles. True False17Carlsbad caverns are maintained and supervised by the U. S. Park service.True False18The ghost mining camp of Rhyolite is in Nevada. True False19Historian who has contributed most to present day knowledge of Juan Bau-tista de Anza and his historic treks to California in 1775 and 1776 is Her-bert E. Bolton. True False20Indian service agency for the Hualpai Indians is at Walpi.True False

landmarks, all pointin g conclusively to thefact that here was the Lost Dutch Ovenmine.Can it be true that the stuff Schofieldfound assayed as rich in gold as the storystates?"Certainly," is the answer from pros-pectors and mining men. They explain itthis way: The old-time operators of themine concentrated, or high-graded theirore. Some of this ran as high as $500 aton, as is known from Gillespie's presentoperations. So they hand-picked chunks ofthis rich stuff, chipped out the softer blu-ish sulphide from the hard quartz, thenpounded or ground the stuff. Thus, afterpanning or spooning it, they obtained aconcentrate that could run as much as sev-eral thousand dollars a ton.Why did those old-timers go to somuchtrouble? Because of the almost inaccessiblelocation of their mine, it was not prac-ticable toconsider hauling out the untreat-

ed ore even though it averaged high ingold. But they could pack out compara-tively small quantities of the rich concen-trates and make the labor worthwhile, atleast until they could finance roads andmining machinery.But what about that Dutch oven filledwith pure virgin gold? That is easily ex-plained, mining men tell us. Dutch ovenswere part of the camp outfits of the oldsour-dough prospectors, used for bakingand roasting over an open campfire. Pres-ent dayprospectors use them too.They aremade of heavy cast iron, with an over-hanging lid, so that the oven can even be

entirely embedded in hot coals. Prospec-tors found out they could use their Dutchovens as crude smelters, especially fortreating sulphide ore like that which camefrom this oldmine. The hand-picked, pul-verized sulphide ore was put into theDutch oven, and roasted over a hot fire,made hotter maybe with bellows. Thusthe sulphur was burned out, leaving goldmingled with fine stuff to be panned outto still purer gold.Just why the old-timers never returnedto their mine will never be known. May-be those who took part in some barroom

brawl could tell. Many things could havehappened.Why was Tom Schofield unable to re-locate the old mine himself? He is a vet-eran prospector who knows this part ofthe desert like a book. What does he sayabout the mine which Gillespie believesto be the Lost Dutch Ovennow actuallybeing worked?Tom is non-committal. He never givesdirect answers to questions about the lostmine. He talks freely, but never discusseslocation, nor details, except to say that theamount of gold he took from the Dutchoven has been greatly exaggerated in there-telling of the story. He doesn't try tomislead anyone, he just rambles on aboutthe great mineral wealth of that area.

T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


9/50

"I get letters from all over the country,"old Tom told us. "And foreign countriestoo," he added in his evident enjoymentof living in the glamour of a mystery neversolved."There's everything out there," Tomsaid with a sweeping wave of a wrinkledhand. "Manganese, tungsten, quicksilver,

all the things the government needs forwar materials. They are all here." Slowlyhe continued: "Enough for everybody,"as though he thought, because he has pros-

Camp of present operators of the oldmine, which is located on the moun-tainside in the background. A roadstill must be built to the shaft beforeore can be removed in quantities."Someone will find it," he asserts. "Itmay be you. Maybe it'll be me."I'm 80 years old," Tom told us andhis leather-brown desert-seared face looksevery year of that plus many more. Someof his Mojave friends say he has livedwell over 90 years instead of a mere fourscore. Somehow Tom Schofield brings upvague remembrances of some character outof a book read long ago or more recent fic-tional personalities of the stage or screen.Just how hard has dreamy old TomSchofield looked in the Clipper mountainsfor his lost mine? In fact, did he ever ac-tually state he found it there or did hemerely say he was employed to try to findwater in the Clippers when he took it uponhimself to prospect for gold? No onebut he knows the answers.It is known, according to mining men,that the Clippers are not the sort of placefor finding rich gold deposits. It is wellknown that searchers, estimated to totalthousands, have combed the Clipperssince 1894 without finding any resem-blance to the landmarks of the story, letalone the old mine itself, and many ofthese searchers were experienced


10/50

G R A P E V I N E C A N Y O N Winner of Desert Magazine 'sAugust Landmark con tes t wasM r s . Percy Train of Genoa, Ne-vada . She iden t i f ied the accompanying p ic tu re as Grapev ine canyon insouthern Nevada, and her excellent description of the petroglyphs anddirections for reaching them are published on this page.By M RS. PERCY TRAINr HE photograph of one of the fin-est exhibits of petroglyphs ap-pearing in the August, 1941, issueof Desert Magazine under the caption"Art of the Ancient Indians," was takenat Grapevine canyon, Sackaton spring,southeastern slope of the Newberrymountains near the Colorado river, south-eastern Clark county, Nevada.This isolated canyon is approximately40 miles southeast of Searchlight, Nevada,one of many stretching from the Newberrymountains eastward to the Colorado river.

Close to the mouth, or entrance to the can-yon, a small permanent spring occurs andthis cold water supply is as welcome tothe desert traveler today as it must havebeen to the vanished Indians whose writ-ings have been so wonderfully preserved.The huge exposure of rock is today highabove the present canyon floor, and it islikely when the writings were made atthis pleasant camping spot the canyonfloor was much higher. Even today weknow of gulches being cut 100 feet deeperas a result of a heavy cloudburst.We visited the southern tip of Nevadain early April, 1938. We were botanistsconducting a plant survey of Nevada forthe U. S. bureau of plant industry atWashington, and our work takes us on the

little used roads and trails, through moun-tain and desert not traveled by many. Onething we learned years ago: No matterhow well informed and able a "desertman" one thinks he is, never leave forunfamiliar country without securing allavailable road and water conditions fromthe nearest community or camp. We leftSearchlight with a sketch map drawn onwrapping paper and it was not far fromhand for a week as our botanical collect-ing proceeded. I will admit we were hap-py to find R. B. Porter at home at his mineand he acted as guide to Grapevine can-yon. From his direction we found theroad to the abandoned experimental datefarm and on south to Needles.

Grapevine canyon receives its namefrom a healthy and vigorous stand of Vilisarizonka (wild grape) found growing upin the canyon at the head of the spring andabove the Indian rock writings. The min-ute I saw the pitchfork glyph with theman's hand on the handle, I knew I hadtaken my photograph (which you willfind enclosed as proof) from the samespot as the one in the Desert Magazine.There were many other petroglyphs allaround the entrance to this canyon, indi-cating it had been a favorite watering

place or hunting base for those long agotribesmen. If the weather was bad therewere spots where overhanging ledges af-forded shelter, no doubt wild game inabundance came to this spring.One cannot view petroglyphs in vari-ous parts of Nevada without realizing thateach locality seems to have a type of de-

sign peculiar and distinctive, these atGrapevine canyon being quite differentfrom those found in the Valley of Firenear Overton, Nevada, or on Irish moun-tain near Hiko, west of Caliente, Nevada.In this canyon I found a single slab of vol-canic rock across whose black surfacescampered five perfect mountain goats ina row. Often one or two appear, but the an-cient artist must have told the story of agood hunting ground, for he depicted fiveand my photograph was given to the mu-seum at Boulder City, Nevada.Directions: Searchlight, Nevada south-east to Hiko spring, 30 miles; Hiko spring

to R. B. Porter mine, 7 miles; Porter'smine to Grapevine canyon, 8 miles. Total,45 miles.Grapevine canyon may also be reachedby going north from Needles, California,through the old abandoned experimentaldate farm, thence north and a little east toHiko spring.Directions: Needles to experimentaldate farm, southern tip of Nevada, ap-proximately 30 miles; experimental datefarm to Hiko spring, 13 miles.Warning: Water and gas should becarefully checked and sketch map direc-

tions secured from Searchlight or Needlesresidents who have been there as the can-yon is not easy to find.10 T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


11/50


12/50

racing, a bare-skinned sprite, after me into the dawn, "Hurree!Hurree!"A nd there was need of hurry. For ominous big drops werealready plunking in wide-spaced intervals upon the iron roof.Far aloft we could hear that weird, sinister rushing soundlike the churning of a great windwhich is the advance mes-sage of released rain masses already plunging downward to-wards a thirsty earth. Rider was dashing here and there, clos-ing shutters, dragging dry firewood into the kitchen and settingthe innumerable pots, pans, pails and jars that are his own per-sonal water-catching outfit, beneath the run-off and drip pointof every inclined flat surface not connected with the main gut-ter system. We all worked fast. But I had barely tossed out thelast bit of cactus joint and given the clean metal gutter a finalwipe with the damp cloth when the deluge struck in a blindingwhite fury. Junipers, rocks, ocotillos and tall podded mesca'sblotted suddenly in a sheet of falling water. Rider and I reachedshelter in a spume of stinging drops that seemed to tingle withthe electricity of the forked fire that of a sudden split the s'cyoverhead with a deafening crash. Rudyard bolted in at our heelslike a little drenched duck, water pouring from his tangledbrown curls. Then itrained!

The storm lasted half a day, with the first furywhen thewater fell in solid curtains, succeeded by scattered and dwind-ling showers. The day previous Rider and I had collected abundle of yucca leaves, with which to put a new seat in one ofour chairs. A lucky circumstance, for now there was an indoorjob all ready to hand. So, while Tanya sat in the window seatexplaining the rain in complicated baby-talk to wide-eyed littleVictoria, I and my two eager assistants hunted up awls and be-gan to shred the long green bayonet-like leaves into quarterinch strips. The big leaves shred readily, following the lines ofthe fibers that run from butt to tip. When the leaves are freshcut these strips are very pliant and braid or twist easily; but ifthey are dry they quickly can be gotten to the right condition bysoaking in water. When we had accumulated what looked likea sufficiency of stripsin spite of Rudyard's "assistance," for hehas rather elastic ideas at present on what constitutes a quarter-inch widthRider brought the forlorn chair that needed fixing.It was in a bad way, never having recovered from the time whenRudyard invented a dramatic game called "Beeg fire on Bwoad-way. Peoples jumping into net." He had used the cane-bottomed chair as the "net", jumping lustily into it from theheight of a box set upon the table. The drama had been sup-pressed quite suddenly by unimaginative grown-up "police."But not in time to help the chair much.Well, what is one chair seat, anyway, in the scheme of things.Kingdoms, we have been told, have crumbled for the want ofa horseshoe nail. And heaven alone knows how many automo-bile classics have been lost to unprogressive speed drivers whoneglected to use "whoozawizz" spark plugs. So why worryabout a chair seat? I cut out the old torn bottom and began tobraid in the new one. We have found that braiding, after themanner of the South Sea islanders with their coconut fiber, isthe best treatment for yucca.It is a fairly long job to braid the seat into a regular sizedchair, braiding as one goes and lacing the completed cord backand forth, basket fashion. So by the time the rain was over andthe children were racing up and down through the puddles inthe hot sunlight that had broken through the scattering cloudsthe chair was about finished. Not a brilliant example of weav-ing, perhaps, but something that would serve well enough. Iclipped the last strand end, set the chair by the table and wentout to sniff the fragrance of the damp, rejoicing, sun-sparkleddesert. Tanya and Victoria w ere already out, sitting on the damprock step beside the "lake" watching Rider and Rudyard sailingtheir long-stored boats. Over the crests of the clean-washed jun-iper trees winged, like migrating fairies, a wide scattered driftof gauzy-winged flying ants. "Plush bugs," as Rider calls thebright many-legged, fluffily scarlet little round insects whichappear mysteriously after warm weather rains, were alreadyambling about underfoot.

It is true enough, as Kipling said, that "Smells are strongerthan sounds or sights to make your heartstrings crack . . ." Butof all the scents that can stir up haunting memories and sheerdelight for the human nostrils I know of none half so potentas the fragrance of the desert after rain. It is something toodeep and subtle for description. If you know it you know whatI mean. And if you have never lifted your head and drunk inthe winey, aromatic fragrance that wells from the grateful earthand stretching leagues of wasteland after a heavy shower, youhave missed somethingmissed one of the greatest and mostmysterious thrills that the wilderness holds. To stand in themidst of a sunlit, rain-washed silence and drink deep of thisprayer of thanks, welling up like incense from plant and shrubarid rock and spiney thorn to the Great Giver of all Mercy, is amomenta sacred moment. O ne stands awed, listening to one'sown humble heartbeats. Thus stood our dusky brothers, the"savages" of the dim, fled yesterdays. With them the GreatSpirit was something real not an empty thing, blurred in atinsel mockery of Sunday clothes and stereotyped ritual andhollow words.

But rain at Yaquitepec means not only water in the storagecisterns. It means mud. Mud is a valuable thing. So long we havebeen without it. Or, having it, have had it in little dabsasmuch, maybe, as one can obtain from a pint of wash water, orfrom the frugally saved unused portions of a brew of tea. Suchdabs take a tedious time in making a showing upon an adobewallthough we can point to considerable areas of the mudwalls of Yaquitepec that were built in just such piecemealfashion.But now is one of our widely spaced periods of abundancewhen we revel in mud. There is mud upon my hands as I write,and mud upon my feet. Dried mud that has been imperfectlyscraped off. Rider, still working at outdoor jobs, is pleasinglydecorated all over with wet, clayey signs of toil. Rudyard hasmud in his hair. Purposely put there, we discovered later, as aresult of his having remembered a story told some time ago bya visitor to the effect that the Apaches plastered their headswith mud as a hair tonic. Even Victoria has had her innings. For

seizing an opportunity, she crawled off her rug and into a gooeybatch of adobe which I had just trampled to the right consis-tency. In the ensuing cleansing operations, to the accompani-ment of lusty yells, Tanya got well mudded too. So that makesit unanimous.But a lot of new wall has gone up, built with a shovel and atrowel and the plain bare hands, and in breathless hasteracingagainst the swift scaking away of the surface water in the openpools, from which we take it. In some of the pools that havebeen previously well trampled by our bare feetafter themanner of the old buffalo wallows on the plainsthere is stillwater stand.ng. So for a day or so yet there will be mudandwall building. Then again operations will stop. Thus, in suchfits and starts, goes our building. Woefully primitive, of course.But we are shamelessly unashamed of the method. And it is

likewise quite true that the house isn't finished as yet. Nor arewe anxious to have it so. "Finished" is an ominous word, rem-iniscent, somehow, of the pracdee of sending elegant youngladies and young gentlemen to an elegant "finishing school."Too many things, now, in this era's progressive set-up, arc re-garded as "finished." And a lot of them frequently are. UPWARDBieak the trail a little higher.Push along and try.There's no limit to desire.Save the sky.And when eventide is dimmingOthers hope,You will have new vistas rimming.And new scope. Tanya South

12 T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


13/50

By ROY MILLER'ERENNIAL, succulent plants,various in habit, mostly veryspiny" so begins the originaldescription of the cactus family. For everyrule there is an exception, so right here in

our Southwest desert we have the onlyspecies in the entire cactus family whichis not succulent, Opuntia ramosissima.Growing as it does with a woody trunkand branches covered with rough bark, itis often mistaken for some sort of desertbrush or shrub but on close inspection itwill be found to be a true cactus. Only theouter tips with new growth show anysigns of succulence and then not m ore thanis often found in the new growth of anyshrub or tree.Common names sometimes given to thisplant are "lead pencil cactus," "darningneedle" and "lady-finger." The branchesare marked throughout their length withsmall heart-shaped tubercles which areflat and crowded closely together. Theareoles are at the top of each tubercle andare a tiny deep slit filled with glochidswhich can be seen only by cutting orbreaking the stern, as they do not growlong enough to reach the surface. Near thetip of the branches each aerole usually hasone long yellow spine, often reddish atthe base and covered with a loose paper-like sheath. Occasionally plants will befound which are completely spineless.Th is is not a different species, as is some-times believed, because spiny plants oftenhave branches on them that are entirelyspineless.The flowers bloom at the tips of thebranches, usually appearing during May.They are smallless than an inch in di-ameteropening out flat, and nearly al-ways have a pale greenish-yellow color.Near Lost Palm canyon I once found a fewplants with old rose colored flowersadecided improvement, I would say, if na-ture could be induced to paint all ramosis-sima flowers this color. The fruit soonfollows the flowers and is oval or eggshaped up to an inch long, and covered

with white wool and bristles.Opuntia ramosissima can be found scat-tered over nearly all of the desert country

of Southern California and ranges intowestern Arizona and southern Nevada.Throughout this territory its only barrierseems to be extremes in altitude. The larg-est and best plants are found at from 2,000to 5,000 feet, while only stunted plants ornone at all will be found at very low orvery high altitudes.Opuntia ramosissima is a difficult plantto establish in cultivation. Due to its non-succulent nature, cuttings should not be

treated like any other species of cactus butmay be put immediately into wet sand orsoil for rooting, with little danger of rotor infection. I have even seen cuttingsrooted in water! Perhaps the best way tohandle this species would be to treat cut-tings the same as rose bush. Any method isforedoomed to a low percentage of root-ings but plants once established grow formany years.

Southwest Cactus Growers, at theirJuly 9 meeting in Los Angeles elected thefollowing officers for the coming year:John Akers, president; Homer Rush, vice-president; Mamie Abercrombie, secretary;Hubert Mcnmonier, treasurer. E. S. Tay-lor, Wm. O. Bright and George Olin com-pose the executive board, and temporaryappointments went to Mrs. Hazel Miller,magazines; Mrs. Ethel Rush, newspapers;

Mrs. Walter Runyon, librarian.

A typical plant of L ead Pencil cacti-s from the Ord m ountain region.OCTOBER, 1 94 1 13


14/50

The Hermit of Impassab le Canyon . His g reeting was jarfrom cordial, but ivhen w e o ffered him a cigar he thawedout a little.

" [7 F I'D known you fellows were coming, I'd have gone\J and hid in the timber." That was the greeting we re-ceived from the Hermit of Impassable Canyon afterwe had spent two weary hours climbing to his almost inacces-sible mountain retreat. And he didn't say it with a smilehewas deadly serious.We were a party of eight under the leadership of Dr. Rus-sell G. Frazier, making a voyage in small wooden boats throughthe roaring Middle Fork of Salmon river in Idaho. Old-timershad told us it couldn't be done, and they were 98 percent cor-rect. We had dragged the boats over miles of granite boulders,lowered them over innumerable falls, turned over uncountedtimes, punched the bottoms out on hidden rocks, and snapped12 oars. Weary and battered we entered Impassable canyon, anarrow slit cut by the river through the towering peaks of Ida-ho's immense primitive area, the wildest spot in the UnitedStates.Half way through the canyon we saw traces of old placerworkings and stopped to investigate. On the bank, hidden byrocks and brush was a grub cache bearing a penciled sign, "Ev-erything in this cache is poisoned." From the workings a verydim trail zig-zagged up the steep canyon wall.This was too much for our curiosity, so we started climbing.The trail, we soon found, was so steep that ladders had beenfixed in several different places to make the ascent possible. Weclimbed 2,000 feet before reaching the mountain top, then fol-lowed a trail through yellow pine another mile before discover-ing a small log cabin and a beautiful garden in a little valley

Here is the story of a man who wanted to go sofar away from civi l izat ion that no one would everf ind h imand he nea r ly succeeded. Pe rhaps i t i snot a l i fe that you and I would want to l ive , and yeti t has i ts compensat ions. At least he has found con-tentment.

tjetmlt

anuonBy CHARLES KELLY

watered by a mountain stream. Signs on the garden fence andover the cabin door warned us that everything inside had beenpoisoned.Smoke issuing from the chimney indicated the owner wasnot far away. W e found him asleep in his bunk. Startled, hestepped outside into a circle of eight very rough looking indi-viduals. His greeting was far from cordial. We told him wehad come down the Middle Fork in boats, but he knew that wasimpossible. W ere we prospectors? No . Were we hunters? Againno. Then what were we doing in his little empire? Our answerthat we were just looking at the scenery was, to his mind, silly.

When we started photographing the old man and his cabinhe was annoyed, but did not openly object. We offered himcigarettes and he refused. But when one of the party produceda cigar he seemed to thaw out a little. Later, when he was pre-sented with a full box of cigars he forgot his suspicions and toldus part of his storybut only after we had promised not to usehis name.The Hermit, as I shall call him, was 16 years old. He wasborn in Iowa, but had joined the gold rush to the Klondike in1898. Returning, he found his sweetheart married to anotherman. He put his gold dust in a bank which promptly failed.

Broke and disillusioned, having lost his faith in both men andwomen, he started in search of the most inaccessible spot in theUnited States. And that is where we found him.He could not have done better. His hermitage, in 1900, was40 miles from a trail and 60 miles from a postoffice. He builta log cabin, bought a variety of seeds, planted a garden andmade himself independent of the world. The cabin, about 10by 12 feet, was built partly into the hillside, making it warm inthe winter. There was a fireplace in one end in which the fireseldom w ent out, a door on leather hinges, and a small windowwithout glass. Near the fireplace was a small table and a chair;in one corner a bunk about four feet square partly filled withdry grass. A shelf contained a few tin dishes and some ancientdog-eared magazines. Under the bunk were a few traps, and a

cake of soap in a washpan half-filled with dust. The cabin,roofed with shakes, was shaded by a beautiful spruce. Nearbywas a large dead pine, cut into lengths for firewood. An axe, a14 T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


15/50

saw, a home-made w heelbarrow an d some garden tools complet-ed his outfit."Do you have many visitors?" we asked by way of openingconversation."When I first came here," the old man replied, "I didn'tsee anyone for sometimes two or three years at a stretch. Butnow-a-days hunters or prospectors drop in almost every month.It's a durned nuisance."The Hermit volunteered no information, but answered ourdirect questions as briefly as possible. We learned that he raisesall his own food in his garden , drying m uch of it for winter use.He has a three years' supply of corn, eating only corn bread andgrinding the meal in a coffee mill. He has bought no new seedsince 1900, but his potatoes were the largest and finest we eversaw. He is not bothered with insect pests and plant diseases.One bear, killed in the late fall, furnishes a year's supply of fat,while deer, mountain sheep and moun tain goats supply his tablewith meat during the winter. He eats no meat in summer. Fromdeer hides he makes his winter clothing, including shoes.Du ring the spring an d summer he cultivates his garden. Afterthe crops are harvested he pans a little gold from the river.Many tons of granite boulders must be moved to obtain a cubicyard of sand, and the flour gold is so fine much is lost in pan-

ning. An ounce, at present prices, is enough to cover all his out-side expenses for a year. His total expenditure is less than eightcents a day, which covers ammunition, salt, tea, a pair of over-alls and a shirt for summer wear. He packs all his supplies onhis own back from the nearest store, now 30 miles away. Henever calls at the postofficehe doesn't w rite any letters norexpect any mail."Do you ever attend movie shows when you go out?'' one ofthe boys asked."I did once, about 20 years ago," the Hermit replied, "butthe dying-calf expressions of the actors made me sick.""W hy don't you have a radio? " another asked."I've heard 'em in town," he replied, "but I'd much ratherlisten to the coyotes howl.""Why don't you keep a dog for company?""I had a dog once, but I had to carry him up and down thetrail and I got tired of it. I had a cat, too, but it got lonesomeand ran away.""How do you spend the long winters up here," asked Dr.Frazier by way of keeping the conversation going."Sleep most of the time," he replied. "Cook one meal a dayand then go back to bed. Sleep about 22 hours a day." Herewas proof that human beings can actually hibernate.The Hermit reluctantly accompanied us back down the trailto our camp on the river, where we gave him various articlesfrom our supplies, including empty containers, a shovel, nails,wire, and all the salt we could spare. Thinking to entertain him,Dr. Frazier talked for an hour on the new developments ofsciencetalking pictures, television, aeronautics, medicine andsurgerybut the Hermit fell asleep. He did ask us who was

president of the United States and was surprised when we saidRoosevelt. He had heard Teddy was dead. What difference didit make, anyway, to one who does not vote, pays no taxes, is noton relief and never heard of old age pensions? Why should heworry about domestic political squabbles or European wars?Around his neck the Hermit wore a buckskin thong on whichwas hung a heavy .45 Colt revolver. We asked him why hecarried it."Some people think I carry this for fear of being robbed ofmy gold dust. I haven't any buried gold; I only pan what I need,about an ounce a year. Why wear myself out accumulating some-thing I can never use? Some day, going up or down this trail, Imight fall and break a leg. When I do this old .45 will comemighty handy."The Hermit ate supper with us, sat around our campfire un-til 10 o'clock and refusing our invitation to stay all night,climbed back up the mountain over a trail which had been diffi-

He pans a little gold about an oun ce a year and that isenough to buy the necessities of life.cult for us in daylight. We thought we had seen the last ofhim, but as we were pushing off next morning he suddenly ap-peared again, dripping with sweat after running down themoun tain. He had forgotten to thank us for the salt!

We left him with regret, knowing we had only gotten ahint of a story he did not wish to tell. But we realized, as wediscussed him around our campfires, that he had evolved aphilosophy in some respects superior to ours. Dependent en-tirely upon his own efforts he looked upon the modern theoryof a government controlled Utopia as the most sublime folly.He had, for the past 40 years, ceased pursuing that mirage werail happiness, and had found what is even more precious . . .contentment.

N E W C O L O R A DO R IVE R DA M A T B UL L S HE A DC A N Y O N T O C R E A T E 66-M IL E L AKESale of electrical energy is expected to repay the entire$41,200,000 cost of the new Colorado river dam authorizedby congress to be constructed at Bullshead canyon 67 milesdownstream from Boulder dam.According to figures given out by the Reclamation bureau,the new Davis dam, named in honor of Arthur Powell Davis,former director of Reclamation, will be 338 feet high and1,350 feet long. Power plant will have a capacity of 180,000kilow atts. It will create a reservoir w ith a capacity of1,940,000 acre feet, and the water will extend upstream to the

tailrace of Boulder dam. Work is scheduled to be underwaybefore the end of 1941.O C T O B E R , 1 9 4 1 15


16/50

DES E R T GL O R YBy H. S. BOTSFORDLos Angeles, California

I wonder if you may have knownThe glory of a desert night,W he n all the stars that ever shoneMake up its pageantry of light.Silence at first, a brooding peaceWhich settles o'er the fevered sandsAnd from the hot day brings release,Like laying on of cooling hands.A quiet, as if the tortured lifeThat battles through the sun-scourgeddays,Now sleeps, exhausted by the strifeAnd struggle of the desert ways.Then softly, lest it mar the calm,But grateful for these shadowed hours,The desert breathes a murmured psalmIn praise of nightfall's healin" powers.While overhead, where one star's beamShows in the city's duller sky,A hundred stars with brighter gleamWithin a seeming hand-breadth l ie .I'm sorry if you have not seenThe glory or a desert nightThe peace, the stars, the silver sheenOf sand beneath the full-moon's light.

I N D I A N I N A N E A S T E R N C I T YB y F R A N K M C C U L L O U G HFern ley, Nev ada

I want to go back to my own land, where theDesert dreams in the sun,And all I ask is a broncho horse, and a trailto ride him on,And a gray land, and sage brush smell, andwhite clouds flying,And a clean wind from the high peaks wherea summer day is dying.I want to go back to my own land, where I knowthe stars as friends,When purple haze on the hills has gone, andnight with the twilight blends.And all I ask is a white trail, and camp whenday is done,Where a canyon runs from the desert's edge,and is lost in the setting sun.I want to go b?.ck to my own land, to theeasy carefree days,For I'm sick of the sounds of the city's streets.and I'm sick of the city's ways.And all I ask when the trail 's done, andtime has turned the pageIs a chance to sleep through the long, long nightamidst moon-silvered sage.

UT O P IAB y O W E N S O N N EWalla Wal la , Wash ing ton

Bequeath to me the Desert 's magic v iews:When twilight 's purple shadows seem toflowAcross the sands, and sunset's afterglowBecomes a tapestry of brilliant hues;Where wake of day 's re treat bestirs the MuseOf brush and pen; where myriad charmsbestowA mental peace. Appease the urge to knowThese rarities that urban haunts refuse.No other grant will serve. I do not seekFor wealth appraisable in terms of gold.Instead, restore the color to my cheek;Relieve my spirit of the galling holdOf waning health; inspire my voice to speakIn youthful terms, although in years I 'm old.

BunB y L E O N I F . H U N T E RPomona, CaliforniaLike the chuckawalla,The tortoise and horned toad,And the lazy lizardsBasking near the road,I too, feel the languorThat enthralls each oneAnd join the desert denizens asA worshiper of the sun. Y E A R N I N G

B y J U N E H O U S T O NMiami, F loridaO, to see just once againA peaceful star-lit night,A long warm day, a bright blue skyAnd other desert sights.

O, to see the cowboys rideOr watch them rope a steer,Then sit around a campfire brightTheir songs and stories hear.I long for things that can not be,And while I 'm far awayA wealth of vivid memoriesAre with me night and day.o CELESTIAL ARTIST'S MASTERPIECE

B Y E L M O P R O C T O RYermo, CaliforniaWhy does the artist portray the nude?For Beauty's sake.Why did God leave Mojave's mountains bare?For Beiuity's sake.All who admire Beauty, unadorned,In Godly undraped nakedness,By progress undeformed,By men still undefiled,With ecstacy will viewMojave naked wild .CREED O F THE DESERT

B y J U N E L E M E R T P A X T O NYucca Valley, CaliforniaOld grizzly cactus, with whiskers greyLooks o'er the valley at close of day.Much thinking he does, but says not a lot,For he is quite wise, this old patriot.

THE MUDSWALLOW'S RETURNT O P A R KE R DA MB y C H A R LES F . TH O M A S , JR .Parker Dam, California

Joy there is in your returning,As in darting curves you swing.Home from some far off sojourning,Winged harbinger of spring.Is the stuccoed home deserted

Ready for your tenancy?Or must labor be exerted,Payment for your vagrancy?Did the winter's strange transitionIn your questing let you beWith your cousins from the MissionCapistrano, near the sea?Are the fledglings, who, first flyingWinged their way from last year'snests,With you here and this year tryingNature's arts and strange bequests?Busy flights through days unceasing,Mark the hours as they speed by;'Til the summer's tasks releasingYou to vanish in the sky.

FLUTES O F THE DESERTBy SARAH D. U LMF.RTucumcari , New Mexico

I like to lie in the nighttimeWhen darkness envelopes the plain,Discern the flutes of the desertIn muted far-spilling refrain.They filter into my dreaming . . .Unconscious I sense the rich strain,That mellowed drifts me to waking,Like soft-padding patter of rain.I love the flutes of the desertTheir music comes winging from afar.It rides the night through the silence,Borne straight from the path of a star.For years my slumber they've broideredThe loveliest strains that there are.Oh, grant the flutes of the desertMay play as I 'm crossing The Bar.

CLOUD OF THE DESERTBy MARIF. Z ETTER B ER G J E L L I F F EClaremont, California

I am a cloud. My place is here.Over the desert I swing with pride.Before the hot sun and wind I ride;To the warm plain give coolness and cheer.I bring the rain through a mist of grey.I herald peace of a sunlit day.My shadow dips over the primrose flower.(Soft as velvet its petals are.)I fold the plume of the lupine's blue.I hide the cactus from moon and star.Oh, I am a cloud that anchored liesWithin the depths of the desert skies.SUNRISE

B Y L E L I A W R I G H T B O L D TNiland, CaliforniaFeeble words cannot describeThe rising of the morning sunIn desert skies;The blending of the fiery goldMakes lace against the blue,W hic h vies with cornflowersThat years ago I knew.While little puffs of pure ceriseAll marching in a row,Seem hitched to streamers fromthe sun,W ith silver mist aglow.



17/50

One would hardly expect the grim desert to be a happy huntingground for anything as small and delicate as a hummingbird, andyet 15 or 16 spec ies of hum mer s com e to the Southw est for b reed ingor as migra nts or visitors from a cros s the bord er. Despite its shy a ndgraceful manner, the hummingbird is a rugged individualistasyou will learn from this intimate story of the bird and its habits,written by a man who has studied them for many years.

winged viritoii wthe *Pe5ettBy FRANK BENE

f ) STACATTO snort, like thatf / emitted by one rudely awakenedfrom a snoring sleep, broke intothe monotonous gurgling of the canyonstream, here in the Huachuca mountainsof southern Arizona. It signaled the ap-proach of the male Rivoli, one of the twolargest hummingbirds visiting the South-west. As was his habit, he came to feedfrom the long-spurred columbine thatlined the canyon brook. Each time hecame I attempted to take his portraitpoised before a columbine while suckingits hidden sweets. But the snap of theGraflex would send him darting off likean arrow from a bow.

Of the eight species of hummingbirdsthat frequent the canyons of the Huachu-cas, none, save perhaps the broad-bill, isso strikingly handsome as the male Rivoli.His emerald green gorget or throat patch,deep purple cap, and moss green upper-parts each flash in turn according to theangle light strikes the iridescent parts.The Rivoli is almost as long as theArizona blue-throat, who shared with himthe profusion of columbine along the

brook. Both species measure five to fiveand one-half inches, almost twice as longas the smallest visitor, the calliope.No less striking in plumage is thebroad-bill, about three-fourths of an inchshorter than the Rivoli. It has a peacockblue gorget that changes hue and is theonly United States hummer whose bill isnot black, but carmine, a more pro-nounced mark of identification than thebill by which it is named.Little is known of this bird's visitingstatus, except that occasionally he is found

in southern Arizona mountains. I failedto see it in the Huachucas in A pril of 1940and in May of 1941, but in August of

Hum mingbirds will not stand close confinement, but they may becom e quitefriendly w hen a bottle of syrup is the reward. This is a black-chinned hummer.1940 I found one, unaccompanied by afemale, feeding from the flowers of ayellow milkweed of which it was veryfond, but which rufous, Costa, black-chinned, Rivoli, and blue-throated hum-mers conspicuously ignored.

These together with the white-eared ofsouthern Arizona and the Texas birdsRieffer, buff-bellied, Lucifer, and Texasvariety of the blue-throatedare the rar-est of our Southwestern hummers. Theyare but a few of the prolific family ofhummingbirds, comprising some 600species found nowhere except in theAmericas and their islands. Mostly trop-ical, they abound in the region of the equa-

tor, their numbers diminishing as they re-cede from the equatorial line. Northwardtheir distribution thins out to 13 speciesthat breed regularly in the United States.Here the greatest concentration of speciesoccurs in the Southwest where 15 or 16kinds visit as regular breeders, migrants,or strays from over the Mexican border.The typical, sun-loving hummer of thedesert Southwest is the Costa, who likethe black-chinned, may be found nestingearly in spring in irrigated gardens andorchards of the Lower Sonoran zone.

Later, when most flowers of the desert andgarden go out of bloom and the tempera-ture rises above the century point, theseO C T O B E R , 1 9 4 1 17


18/50

-

Another picture of the female black-chinned hummer probing the blossom oj asucculent introduced from South Africa.birds move to cooler climes where f low-ers come into bloom. In the Salt River val-ley of central Arizona the black-chinnedadults depart in June, leaving behindthem their f ledglings. Rufous, broad-bill,and Costa hummers I 've seen in August inthe Huachucas where three months earlierthey were absent. This phenomenon ischaracteristic of hummers that raise theirfirst brood at the low levels in the South-west and accounts for the sudden disap-pearance of a species from a locality wherea few months earlier they were numerous.These feathered visitors to the UnitedStates winter in Central America and inspring and summer some species breed asfar north as Canada. Anna hummers maybe found wintering in Southern Califor-nia. Individuals of this species and of Al-len hummers sometimes stray intoSouthern Arizona from California. Inspring the rufous and calliope are numer-ous in the orange orchards of SouthernCalifornia, en route to their breedinggrounds to the north, the rufous travelingas far as 61 degrees latitude in Alaska. Ru-fous, calliope, and ruby-throated arefound breeding in the Canadian zone of

spruce, fir, and aspen. The broad-tail isanother hardy Canadian zone breeder,rearing her brood high in the Rockieswhere the warmth of the summer lingersfor so brief a period that the young of be-lated mothers may succumb to the rapidlyadvancing cold.As a family the hummingbirds areeasily distinguished from other birds.Their long bills, small size, their peculiaraffinity for flowers, the characteristichumming sound which gives them their

family name immediately set them apartfrom other birds. However, these verytraits often lead the casual observer to mis-take them for the sphinxor humming-bird-moth, especially at nightfall when themoths come out to feed.With the exception of the big threeblue-throated, Rivoli, and broad-billedhummers of the United States are theshortest and lightest of North Americanbirds. The average hummer the size of ablack-chinned, weighs about three grams,about as much as a penny. A three-cent

stamp is sufficient to send the equivalentof 10 hummers by weight in first classmail to any part of the United States.

It would be difficult to find a moreskillful avian pilot than the hummer; cer-tainly none can outclass it in maneuvera-bility at close quarte rs. Da rting fromflower to flower, the hummer extricatesitself from a maze of paths, flying back-ward or forward, upward or downward,and sideward with precision and ease, onwings that beat from 55 to 75 times a sec-und. In straight flight this expert pilotshoots toward its favorite perch, surelyheaded for a disastrous crash, but the nextmoment it stops dead and lands daintily.And when he decides to take off, a pairof thin long-bladed powerful wings cata-pult him from his perch, as though shotfrom a rocket.Strongly individualistic, these feath-ered sprites form loose pairs and main-tain isolated territories upon their arrivalon the breeding grounds. Soon after herarrival from winter quarters, the female

selects her nest site in a female localityand guards it against poaching hummerswith all the pugnacity at her command.The male stakes out his claim in a neigh-boring locality which he defends with thesame emotional vigor as does his mate.Mating is usually consummated on a "lek"or courting ground, located in close prox-imity to the territories of the sexes. Initia-tive in pairing may be made by either sex,though judging by the frequency withwhich females visit the lek, at least dur-ing the early stage of courtship, I am in-clined to believe that the female does themost "drumming."The courtship display of the black-chinned illustrates the sort of ardor char-acteristic of the male members of thishot-blooded clan. The female's arrival onthe lek is the signal for the prospectivemale mate to break into a series of pendu-lum swings, three to eight feet in length,close to the female quietly settled on alow perch. As he swings from side to sidehis feathers emit a sound like that pro-duced by a bow being sawed across thestrings of a cello. Then, rising to 50 to 100feet, the male swoops down in a breath-taking dive that carries him upward at theother side of the V-like arc. At the lowestpoint of this whirlwind dive a shrill whist-ling is heard, caused by the spreading ofthe tail feathers. It is incredible so muchnoise can come from so puny a bird. Atthe pinnacle of the arc the wooer pausesin a vertical posture long enough to showoff his flashing gorget to full advantage.Following a half dozen such dives hedrops into the same sort of pendulumswing that opened his nuptial display.

As suddenly as it began so suddenlythis mating blitzkrieg ends. I t is now upto the female to accept or reject his ad-vances. If she accepts him, the female

18 T H E D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


19/50

makes known her acceptance by remain-ing on her perch.Hummingbirds have a curious predilec-tion for nesting in odd places. A black-chinned I know built her nest on the rem-nants of what appeared like four old onesattached to a piece of rope, underneaththe porch ceiling of a house located twoblocks from the state capitol in Phoenix.F. C. Williard found nesting in Ramsaycanyon in the Huachucas a blue-throatedwho persistently built her nest on thecrook of the handle of an old lard pailsuspended from a hook. Thirty years laterI found a blue-throated that had attachedits nest to a joist underneath the floor of averanda that bridged the canyon stream. Isuspect the two nails to which the nestwas secured might have been the same

Male b lack-chinned humm er jeedingfrom a shrimp plant, a gard en hybridof the hummingbird floiver whichgrows wild on the desert.ones en which the lard pail had been hungat one time.The nest of a small hummer is aboutthe size of a golf ball with a sectionsliced off. It is just large en ough to ac-commodate two nestlings when fullygrown. A master builder, mother hummerpacks, molds and trowels the nest mate-rial with feet, breast, and bill, respective-ly, using for the interior downy materiallike the pappus of seeds and feathers. Theexterior is stuccoed with tiny leaves ormoss. These are held together and securedto a slender, usually pendent, twig bymeans of silk stolen from the homes ofunwary spiders.

Two white eggs, the size of a commonbean, are laid by the hummer. A fortnightof devoted incubation rewards motherhummer with chicks that looks like acouple of bugs. But their growth is phe-nomenal, for by the twelfth day they havequadrupled in size. By the end of the thirdweek they leave the nest, and four weeksfrom the time of hatching they are readyfor an independent existence.Hummers of the United States are asfond of insect meats as of sweets. At twi-light when the air teems with gnats, thehummer snatches them between feedingsfrom floral sweets. An expert flycatcher,this feathered mite is as adept in catchingits aerial game as it is in weaving aboutflowers in search of nectar. A zigzag flightin pursuit of the winged insect, then thecatch, and down the bird's crop goes thetiny speck which a moment before danced

fitThis male Rivoli is shown retreatingfrom a yellow Columbine in theHuachuca mountains as he hears theclick of the camera.

about in exhuberant innocence. Tinybeetles and spiders are also consumed andthese are gleaned from vines, shrubs andtrees.Where plants are sprayed with poisonto rid them of insect infestation there isthe danger of exposing hummingbirdsrnd other insect-feeding birds to the toxicsprays. I have seen two m ale black-chinnedhummers fall victims to such poison be-cause they happened to feed on poisonedorange blossoms in the neighborhood.Once it becomes attracted to syrup orhoney feeders hidden in beds of flowers,the hummer becomes quite tame; but itcan not stand confinement in a cage. It isapt to pine away, in tragic contrast to the

tireless vigor it displays in its naturalhabitat.Among garden flowers most attractiveto hummers are those that have large,tubular corollas or spurs. Some of thesea-e columbine, honeysuckle, nasturtium,shrimp plant (Belperone guttata), pent-stemon, petunia, lantana, butterfly bush(Budlleia), jasmine, larkspur, tree tobac-co (Nicotiana glauca), fuchsia, trumpet-creeper (Tecoma), and garden balsam(Impatiens). Double varieties of theseflowers are usually worthless to these birdsbecause the excess petals tend to hide thenectary. Also, exceedingly irregular flow-ers like the sweet pea and snapdragon havenectaries inaccessible to all but tiny insects.

O C T O B E R , 1 9 4 1 19


20/50

R. A. Dean w ent to Ham ilton in the e arly days as a schoolmaster. The school finally closed for lack of pupils, butDean remained to dig for silver in the bills. He believesthe old camp will come back sooner or later.

Cs ARLY in I860 when Al Leathers was a blacksmith forf w one of the mining companies operating in the vicinityof Austin, Nevada, he woke one night to find Indian Jimin the kitchen of his shanty gulping the last mouthful of a potof boiled beans. The Indian might have stolen anything elseand not have been so harshly treated. As it was, he suddenlyfound himself outside the shanty, bruised of body and his feel-ings hurt.Indian Jim returned a few days later with a peace offeringa chunk of silver ore. Leathers accepted the offering, meltedthe silver, hammered it into a good-luck charm and wore it on

a string about his neck.Years passed. Then one day Leathers mentioned the inci-dent to a man named Murphy, who had more imagination thanAl. They went in search of the Indian. Finally located, he wasinduced to show them where he had found the piece of silver.It was then January, 1868. The high Nevada plateaus andmountains were swept by wintry blasts and snow was pileddeep everywhere. The Indian led them to a round-topped peakthat reared its snow-capped summit high into the brittle bluesky.The party floundered through the snow drifts up the steepmountainside. Reaching the top, they blinked unbelievinglyeverywhere they looked outcroppings of rock poked throughthe snow gleaming with rich veins of silver.Indian Jim had led them to one of the greatest silver bon-anzas in the history of western mining. It was a treasure hill.W ord soon leaked out. At first the m ining fraternity received

Silver ore that yielded $27,000 to the ton; $3,200,-000 from a pit 70 by 40 feet and only 28 feet deep;a sol id horn of s i lver that weighed 40 tonstheseare the tales that brought 20,000 fortune-hunters tothe Treasure Hi l l bonanza in Nevada in the daysfollowing the Civil war. But the silver pinched out,and today only two old-t imers remain in the ghosttowns of Hamilton and Treasure City.

onan-ia onteaiute

By G. DALE HAMILTONPhotographs by Ernest C. Peterson

the news with reservationstoo many false alarms had sentthem off on wild stampedes. These reports were too exaggerat-ed. Miners were skeptical. However, mining men cannot resistthe cry of "New Bonanza!" Soon they were flocking across thedesert wastes of Nevada, like a tidal wave, to the new strike onTreasure hill.It is said that 20,000 men and women rolled up their packsand struck out across the desolate sand flats and bleak moun-tain ranges, bound for Treasure hill. Like a colony of ants onthe move, 6,000 of them crawled up that inhospitable moun-tain to live and mushroom into Treasure City, at an altitude of9,000 feet above sea level.More than 10,000 others preferred to live at the base of themountain, and there in the grey sagebrush they founded the cityof Hamilton, which was to become the county seat of newlycreated White county.Both camps flourished in typical boom-camp fashion, but in-evitably followed the pattern of western boom mining campsaround the circle to ghost town oblivion.

Exploring and photographing ghost towns is a hobby ErnestPeterson and I have long enjoyed. When we heard about theold camps at Hamilton and Treasure City we dug into the rec-ords, and w hat we found was so interesting we decided we mustgo there.Leaving San Francisco on a weekend we took the routethrough Donner pass and across the fascinating desert countryto central Nevada. Between Eureka and Ely we came to a lonemarker which read "HAMILTON." It pointed south along adusty road that fingered its way toward a range of ragged moun-tains.We left the pavement and jolted over 11 miles of desert roadthat led into a gap in the mountains and up a rocky canyon. Asteep climb brought us onto a high plateau bristling with scrubsage. In the distance a round-topped mountain grew out of thesage-covered plateau like a hump on a camel's back.Sprawled at the base of the mountain dozed the ramshacklebuildings of Hamilton, like weary exhausted animals droopingunder the merciless glare and heat of the sun.Roofless dugouts and forlorn shacks gaped at us from thesage as we drove down the dusty road. Some buildings had beenreduced to cairn-like heaps of stones. Shanties, scraped to the



21/50

-'-^owj'fc-W

bones by thesavage elements, leaned and sagged dejectedly, thewind washing through their exposed ribs.W e continued along the road to theabandoned mines and theold camp of Treasure City. We crested the rim of the westernslope and before us lay the remains of the city. Except for afew tottering fragments, the buildings have been pulverizedinto m ounds of yellowish-brown stones, entirely uninhabitable.Although the old stone bank is roofless and gutted, it is thebest preserved building on the slope. Thelarge black iron vault

is securely entombed in the thick rock wall, its broad doorswung wide open.Down the line is a dilapidated hoist perched astride one ofthe mine shafts. We pushed through the scrub growth andclambered over dumps and old equipment topeer into the darkthroat of the shaft that drops straight into the mountainside.Leathers and Murphy, with other original owners, sold theirclaims tobig-moneyed interests at a fraction of what theproper-ties soon proved to beworth. Three of themines were tobecomeworld-famous. They were the Eberhardt, the Defiance, and theHidden Treasure. The rich deposits were found inpure chloridelayers separated only by layers of limestone and bounded bywalls like avault. Theminers m erely pried the silver loose fromthe gravel in sheets and slabs. Themining world was amazedat its concentration.For instance, $3,200,000 worth was dug from the Eberhardtfrom an opening 70 by 40 feet, at no point more than 28 feetbelow the surface. Thirty-two hundred tons of the bonanzamilled $1,000 a ton.Ore from theDefiance milled as high as $27,000 a ton. Oneday's production was worth $40,000, with $75,000 more un-covered and in sight. No wonder the miners were wildly ex-cited.In one of thetunnels of theHidden Treasure wasuncovered asolid horn of silver weighing more than 40 tons, said to be thelargest mass of silver ever found.Exploitation of this fabulous silver cache progressed withthoughtless haste, but not without having to overcome twoserious problemslack of lumber and water. In this isolateddesert region these worries weighed heavily. Eventually, lum-ber requirements were partly supplied by 12 sawmills which

moved in and denuded the canyons of their scanty growth ofpifion.Because of the scarcity of materials, and with all interest cen-tered inmining, no onetook time tobuild himself even a shackthe first year. Too busy to build houses, the miners lived incaves, huts, dugouts and some in tents. They suffered from thecold and exposure on that hostile mountain top, open to theraw elements. The first winter an epidemic of smallpox sweptthrough the miserable, shivering camp claiming many lives.However, it is said that eventually every canyon of that deso-late mountain had its sides adorned with miners' cabins hang-ing like bird cages from its rocky sides.But they needed w ater. To run themines and support a pop-ulation of near 20,000 required a large andconstant supply.Ex-ploration revealed Illipah Springs three miles down a steep,rocky canyon. A waterworks was built to pump the water to alarge stone reservoir at the head of the canyon. From there itwas distributed to the two camps through 12 miles of 12-inchpipe. This installation cost more than $500,000, and todaynothing remains but the stone reservoir.In spite of their waterworks and the efforts of the volunteerfire department, Hamilton was laid low by a great fire beforethe city was out of its infancy. Early oneJune morning in 1873,

a small fire started in theback of a cigar store. Whippe d by thewind, it raced through other buildings. The firemen werepowerless to halt the conflagration:strangely there was nowater pressure. Thesleeping inhabitants saved only their n ight-shirts. When the fire burned itself out, all but two buildingswere destroyed.Investigation revealed that the owner of the cigar store hadturned off the water pressure to hamper the fire department,then set fire to his store. He expected to get the insurance, in-stead he got seven years in the penitentiary, and Hamilton suf-fred a loss of more than $600,000.But money wasstill plentiful and the city wasmostly rebuilt.The mines were incredibly profitable. By the end of the secondyear they were producing over $500,000 monthly, and theveinwas seemingly inexhaustible.Exploitation went on with great haste and much waste, untilthe middle 1880s when the silver bubble burst in their faces

O C T O B E R , 1941 21


22/50

with the effect of a bombshell. The bottom of the vein wasreached with unexpected suddenness. Consternation grippedeveryoneminers and owners alike. It couldn't be. They hadsomehow expected the ledge to go down and down, perhaps toChina.But the ledge was neither wide nor deep. At approximately100 feet it ended abruptly. The bottom of the vault-like shaftshad been reached and it was like scooping up the last shovelfulof grain out of an empty bin. That was the end of the great bon-anza.In the late 1880s the mines began to close and the exodus ofminers was a natural consequence. The flight was as rapid as theoriginal rush. The two camps were doomed.Other interests took over the properties and spent fortunesvainly seeking the lost treasure. It was the familiar storythevein was merely lost and every prospector from desert rat tomining magnate hoped to be the one to rediscover it.An English company spent a fortune sinking a 1400-footshaft into the heart of the mountain with over a mile of tun-

Ten thousand people once lived here. Hamilton, Nevada.The winding road leads to Treasure City.

Old Withington hotel still stands at Hamilton, the two-story stone building. Trea sure hill is in the background .There w ere still patches of sno w when this picture wastaken Memorial day.nelhng. Even now, in summertime, flivver-prospectors comefrom distant places to dig and scratch and search for the lostvein.Today Hamilton is a ghost camp of 25 or 30 buildingssomein quite good repair considering their long neglect. One of thetwo buildings that escaped the big fire now dominates the cen-ter of the old camp. It is the Withington hotel and store builtin 1869 of red brick and stone blocks. A $50,000 two-storycourt house and jail and a Masonic lodge building have disap-peared.Buildings made of uncut rock have tumbled down morerapidly than wooden structures. But the latter are ramshackles.The wind bangs and clatters the loose hanging boards andshingles. Of these, the old butcher shop and the Mathewsonresidence are the most conspicuous.

The old ore mill and furnace have not fared well. The stoneremnants of these old ruins rise from the grey sage and loom


23/50

/ /A^ sagebrush at the edge of H amilton is the graveyardof freight w agons abandoned more than 50 years ago. Theruins of the furnace and ore mill are on the slope in thebackground.in sharp jagged outline against the background of clear bluesky and cottony clouds.Hamilton is not entirely deserted. Two old-timers have stead-fastly refused to leave. One is a Mrs. Shields. She was there inthe 1870s. For more than half a century she has waited in pa-tient loneliness in the belief that the bonanza will be foundagain.The other veteran is R. A. Dean. He has been in Hamiltononly 34 years, since 1907 when he came as school master. Butthe pupils became fewer and fewer. Eventually, with only theempty room and the vacant seats to stare back at him, he steppedout into the bright desert sunlight, closed the door behind himand turned his attention to prospecting and hard-rock mining.At 76 he is still at it.Being an educated man, Dean has gone about his prospect-ing in a scientific manner. Along with others, he is obsessedwith the theory that the silver ledge was shifted in a fault duringa great cataclysmic upheaval when the mountains were formed.

Grinning, he will tell you, "I'm on the right hunch to find it."With a glint in his eye, he continues, saying, "It's just behindthe next rock ledge."Both of these old timers have unlimited faith in the rediscov-ery of the lost treasure. To them it is not in the twilight of eve-ning they wait, but rather the twilight of morning; waiting forthe sun to rise again over their silent and deserted city. Waitingfor a sun that will breathe life and action and prosperity backinto the gaunt skeletons of the old camp.After more than a quarter century of isolation and solitude,Ernest and I wonder how they would survive the noise and con-fusion plus all the trappings of a modern 1941 boom camp.But the

Documents

194110 Desert Magazine 1941 October