194209 Desert Magazine 1942 September

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L E T T E R S . . .Indian Cov ers Preferred . . .

Alhambra, CaliforniaDear Mr. Henderson:Since the arrival of the August number ofDesert with its interesting Navajo cover, oneof the best, I have been looking over againthe covers of past issues. It seems to me thatthroughout the nearly five years of its existenceDesert Magazine has set a remarkable standardin covers and these seem to fall into a few dis-tinct classes.The group which I find most attractive arethe six I will call the Indian human interestgroup. Pueblo Boy, Weaver, Navajo MedicineMan, In Navajo Land, Navajo Youth and thelast number, Navajo.Next is a group of three headed by DesertCharlie, then Baby Burro and Arizona. Thencomes that outstanding group of Indian coun-try scenics, Shiprock, Rainbow Bridge, Monte-zumas Castle, Death Valley and BetatakinRuins.But I often turn back and feast my eyes onthe cover of No. 1, Vol. 1 and after nearly fiveyears that first cover seems to stand in a classby itself, in artistry, coloring and desert interestthe best of all.Please don't think I even pretend to be anauthority on art or magazine covers. I like Des-ert Magazine and all its covers and think thewholt series makes a really outstanding collec-tion, one any publisher might well be proud of.May your standard never grow less and yoursubscription list exceed your fondest expecta-tions. W I L L H . T H R A L L

"Mosquito Rock" . . .Boulder City, NevadaDear Mr. Henderson:I wish to point out an error in the July issueof Desert Magazine. Mr. Jerome's descriptionof Elephant Rock is quite accurate, but thephotograph in question is not of the "ElephantRock." I think "Mosquito Rock" is more de-scriptive of the formation shown. This rock,strangely enough, is some four or five milesfrom the Elephant Rock in the same Valley ofFire. It may be seen by continuing on the roaddescribed by Mr. Jerome approximately twomiles beyond the Mouse Tank Trail. It is to theleft of the road, instead of the right, just overthe crest of the last fiery ridge. The photographwas taken looking toward the Virgin river arm

of Lake Mead, which could be seen except forthe hill in the background. Perhaps this is whyMr. Jerome thought the negative had been re-versed.I have driven far into British Columbia, andhave seen parts of Wyoming, Colorado, andevery state west of the Rockies. I have viewedthat summation of all grandeur: the Grand Can-yon ; but, I was still mu ch im pressed w ith t heValley of Fire. It appears to have been createdin a moment of wildest abandon. The abundantpetroglyphs, so intimate of the men who livedthere long ago, seem doubly thought-provokingin that setting of weird shapes and startlingcolor.Being a newcomer to southern Nevada, I amnot writing as a booster for this locality. I do

so in appreciation of your splendid magazine.Mrs. Parker joins me in wishing you continuedsuccess with it.FRED W. P ARKER

To Keep the Records Straig ht. . .Gentlemen: Quartzsite, Arizona

I am not a critic, but just to keep thingsstraight, on the Yerington page in your Juneissue, you have a -.Vetch of a man and a wind-lass. The rope runs on the beam in the wrongdirection as to the position of the man. Alsoin the caption under the picture on page 37,"Hammering gold to free it from silver, etc."-the silver and the gold are not separate, butmixed. J. R. CURRIER On Skinning Rattlers . . .Los Gatos, CaliforniaDear Editors:I read your story "Rattlesnake Skins Are MyHobby" with more than usual interest.

For more than 40 years I have been killingrattlesnakes, and skinning them. Four years agoon the 15th of September I killed a large rattler.On skinning it I found four young rattlers, eachencased in a tough membrane. The snakesvaried in size from four to seven inches, eachbeing complete as to shape of head, fangs, andbutton.I use a different system in skinning my rat-tlers. My method is to lay them bottom side upand cut them open with a heavy pair of scissorsbefore skinning.Several times the persistent call of a jay haslocated a rattler for me. Positively the onlygood word I have for a jay.

IDA RAILEY

More About the Ha vasu pai . . .Blythe, CaliforniaCompanero:I appreciate your choice of words and theirsrrangements when you write : "Neither tr iballegend nor the research of archaeologists havetold us when and why the Havasupai Indiansmigrated to the majestic Havasu canyon."Old Captain Navajo, who was not a Navajo,told me that they came from the Walapais; thatthey pulled out after a three-day tribal con-ference when the tribe was divided over thematter of tribal tradition in regard to squawsbeing allowed to cohabit with men of otherraces or tribes. They went down into that can-yon, not because it was majestic, but for protec-t ion.Captain Navajo told me that once the NavajoIndians tossed three of the Supai bucks off intothe canyon just to see what they would looklike after they landed, 3,000 feet below.The man who did that mining work in thecanyon was Adam Chunning. He stopped withme for a week during a snow storm. That was 50years ago and he was on his way to do his as-sessment work.In 1889 the la grippe, after killing manyRussians, started eastward around the world. InJanuary, 1890, Bill Bass and I procured somequinine, after which Bill paid the Supais a visitto see if they had lived through the epidemic.Bill found them taking the hot water vs. icewater treatment. I presume they would practi-cally all have died if Bill hadn't taken charge.Later in the spring of 1890 the entire tribe cameout and camped near me on top of the plateau.As nearly as I could estimate there were be-tween 60 and 80 of them at the time.

ED. F . WILLIAMS

Neither Rubber Nor Gas . . .Payson, UtahGentlemen:Welcome the articles of Charles Kelly inD.M. He sure knows his Utah, and should havemany more descriptions for us.With him and Marshal South, well, you willhave me on your list for life. Glad Marshal hashis burros. No rubber shortage will bother himnow.DR. L . D . P FOUTS Honoring "Sh ady " Myrick . . .Carson City, NevadaDear Sir :I was mildly surprised at the use of the word"Myrickite" in your item, "Identity of Opalite,"in the July issue of Desert.I had always associated the word with a gold-en variety of chalcedony, and somehow stillbelieve the name originated from "Shady" My-rick.Shady lived at Lead Springs, California, nearthe head of Panamint Valley, about 1922, whenI knew him. When I visited his camp at thattime he told me about the golden chalcedony hehad found, and stated:"I'm sorry Mac, but I haven't got a specimen

now, but it was the most beautiful thing youever sawand they're going to name it "my-rickite."Since then, whenever I have seen any of theopals or agates, I have thought of Shady's "my-rickite," but have never taken the trouble tolook it up until I read your item. Am unableto find the name in Dana or Kraus, so assumeit is somewhat restricted to local use.However, this brings to mind Shady's story,as I remember it. G . L . McINTYRF.G.L.M./ think, you are correct in as-suming M yrickite w as named for "Shady"Myrick. In his "Quartz Family Minerals"Duke merely uses the name as a synonymfor opalite. R.H.

Weatlt.&iF R O M P H O E N I X B U R E A U

Temperatures DegreesMean for July - 92.7Nor mal for July 89.8High on July 6 , 116.0Low on July 15 , 70.0Rain InchesTotal for July .1.24Nor mal for July 1.07W e a t h e r -Days clear 19Days partly cloudy 10Days cloudy 2Percentage of possible sunshine 88E. L. FELTON, Meteorologis t .F R O M Y U M A B U R E A U

Temperatures DegreesMean for July 94.2(Exceeded only once since 1878.)Norm al for July 90.8High on July 7 117.0Low on July 19 73.0Rain InchesTotal for July 0.08Norm al for July 0.18Wea the rDays clear 29Days partly cloudy 2Days cloudy 0Sunshine, 98 percent, 426 hours of sunshineout of a possible 437 hours.Colorado riverDischarge from Boulderdam averaged around 20,000 second feet.S torage during the month was nearlystationary.JAMES H. GORDON, Meteo ro log is t .

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AUG. 28-29 Annual horse show, munici-pal stadium, Ogden, Utah.AUG. 29-30 Rocky Mountain Federationof mineral societies annual con-vention at Salt Lake City, Utah.

SEPT. 2-5 Salt Lake county fair, Murray.Utah. E. O.Brothers, manager.1-27 Twoexhibitions at Museum ofNorthern Arizona, Flagstaff: An-cient Life in the Rocks of Ari-zona andGeography for an Ari-zona Tourist.5-6

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230th Annual Fiesta, Santa Fe,New Mexico, commemorating de-livery of thevilla from theIndi-an s in 1693- Includes ceremony"Burning of Zozobra," Conquis-taciores Ball, DeVargas Pageint .Candlelight procession, Roofshow and crowning of FiesnQueen at LaFonda hotel.Harvest dance, San Ildefons-)Pueblo, NewMexico.Annual rodeo, Grants, New Mex-ico. Mark Elkins, chairman.

Fiesta, Tajique, NewajiqueMexico.TorreonMexico.ManzanoMexico.

Fiesta, Torreon, NewFiesta, Manzano, New

15 Mex ican colony celebration ofMexican Independence, Roswell,New Mexico.16 Mexican Independence celebra-tion at Socorro, New Mexico.19 An nua l fiesta anddance, LagumIndian pueblo, New Mexico.25-27 Annual rodeo, HotSprings, NewMexico.27-OCT. 4 New Mexico State Fair,Al-buquerque.28-29 Taos County Fair and SanGeronimo fiesta, Taos, NewMexico.29 Ann ual fiesta. Feast Dav of SanMiguel, Socorro, New Mexico.

A R I Z O N A H U N T I N G S E A S O N SDeer: North of Gila river, except Pina!mountains in Gila and Pinalcounties, Oct. 16-Nov. 15;southof Gila river and including th:Pinal mountains, Nov. 1-Nov. 30on white tail deer; Nov. 16-30oidesert mule deer.Turkey andBear: Open north of Gilariver only; corresponds to deerseason.Deer : InKaibab forest limited to1,000permits, Nov. 1-15.Antelope: Sept. 19-Oct. 3; limited per-mits .Elk: Nov. 1-30, special permits as well

as regular hunting licenses.Squirrel: Fort valley refuge north ofFlagstaff open Aug. 16-Nov. 15.

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Volume 5 SEPTEMBER,1942 Number 11COVER

LETTERSWEATHERCALENDARCRAFTSMANMIGRATION

RITUALCONTESTNATURE

PUZZLEART OFLIVINGPOETRYHOBBY

FICTION

ADVENTURE

MINERALOGY

LANDMARK

NEWSCONTRIBUTORSHOBBYCRAFTSMININGCOMMENTBOOKS

DESERT TRAILS, photograph by E. F. Tucker, BoulderCity, Nevada.

Comment from Desert Magazine readers . . . 2July temperatures on thedesert 2Current events en the desert 3Prize winning photograph in July 4Refuge on the Colorado

By RANDALL HENDERSON 5Rain Sing, by CHARLES KELLY : 9Prize story announcement 10Hawk of the Wastelands

By GEORGE McCLELLAN BRADT . . . .11Desert QuizA test of your desert knowledge . .12Desert Refuge, by MARSHAL SOUTH . . . . 13Horned Toad, andother poems 15Nature's A B C's on theYuma Mesa

By JOS. C. COYLE 16Hard Rock Shorty of Death ValleyBy LONGARRISON 18

By Boat to theLake of MysteryBy GODFREY SYKES 19

Fairy Crystals From an Old Mine DumpBy BERTHA G. BROWN 25

Old Governor's MansionBy GRACE P. McELWAIN 28

Here andThere on theDesert 29Writers of the Desert 32Gems and Minerals

Edited by ARTHUR L. EATON 33Amateur GemCutterby LELANDE QUICK . . 36Briefs from thedesert region 37Just Between You and Meby the Editor . . . 38"The NewTrail" and other reviews 39

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Publishing Company, 636State Street, El Ontro, California. Entered as second class matter October 11, 1937, atthe post office at El Centre California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registeredNo. Bu886E> in u. S. Pa tnt Office, ar.cl contents copyrighted 1U42 by the Desert PublishingCompany. Permission to reproduce contents must be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor. LUCILE HARRIS, Associate Editor.

Manuscripts 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.SUBSCRIPTION RATES

Cne year, including gold-embrssed loose leaf binder $3.00Two years, including binders for both years 5.00You may deduct 50c each for b'nders if not desired.Canad'an subscriptions 25c extra, fc reign 50c extra.

Address correspondence to Desert Magazine, 636 State St., El Centro, California.

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Master Pottery MakerBy FRED H. RAGSDALELos Angeles, California

This fine portrait of a San Ildefonso Pueblo Indianpotter is winner of first prize in Desert Magazine's Julyphotographic contest. Taken with a Rollieflex camera.Plus X film, no filter.

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When it was announced in February that Japan-ese evacuees from the Pacific coast would be relo-cated on tribal lands of the Colorado River Indians,there were protests, both from the Indians and fromsympathetic white sources. But it was a war meas-ure, and the objections were overruled. Largest ofthe Japanese relocation communities is on the Colo-rado River Indian reservation near Parker, Arizona,where housing for 20,000 evacuees has been erect-ed in the heart of a desert mesquite forest. And if youwant to know how this project is working out, hereare some of the answers.

By RANDALL HENDERSON(I WISH you would write an editorial against puttingV the Japanese on Indian reservations. That is one ofthe most unforgivable things we have ever done tothe Indians. They are defenseless, therefore they are saddledwith theJaps."This paragraph is from a letter written to me by a friend inWashington several weeks ago.It raises a question which has been in the minds of manyDesert Magazine readers since it was announced early this yearthat all Japanese were to be evacuated from certain coastal areas,

and that many of them were to be relocated on Indian lands.I did not write the editorial for the reason that the resettle-ment of Japanese on Indian lands for the duration of the waris part of America's all-out effort. It was not a time to criticiseunless there was a constructive end to be gained.However, I decided to find out for myself from first handsources just how this Japanese relocation program is workingout. There is a three-fold interest involvedthe interest ofAmerica at war with Japan, the interest of the Indians whoselands are being occupied, and the interest of the Japanese them-selves.The largest of all the Japanese relocation centers is on thedesertdeep in the mesquite jungles of the Colorado RiverIndian reservation that lies along the Colorado river below

Parker. And that is where I went for information.With permits from the War Relocation Authority and theBureau of Indian affairs, I visited the Colorado River Reloca-tion Center early in July. There I found Americans and Japan-ese w orking in close cooperation and doing a job that hasmanyamazing aspects.Consider the task of building a city for 20,000 peoplethethird largest city in Arizonawith all the problems of housing,water, power, sewerage, policing, fire control and transporta-tion, within a period of .three months. And keep in mind thatthe city is located 17 miles from the nearest railroad and morethan 300 miles from its wholesale distributing center, in theheart of a desert wilderness where there were neither roads,power nor communication lines, nor any organization sit up toprovide these essentials. It was truly a gigantic undertaking.The Japanese Center on the Colorado river is named Poston,honoring Charles D. Poston, first territorial delegate and oftencalled the "Father of Arizona." The name Pcston really covers

METROPOLITANMONUMENT, PEA

DIVERSION DAMRKERISILVER CITY

COLORADO. RIVERINDIAN :

- I Y U M A

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three towns. Camp 1 is built to house 10,000 Japanese plus sev-eral hundred Anglo-American officials who are directing theproject. Camp 2, three miles farther down the valley accommo-dates 5,000 people, and Camp 3, another three miles south isthe same size as Camp 2.From Parker I drove over a paved road to Silver City wherethe administration and school buildings of the Colorado RiverIndian reservation are located. Beyond this point a well-maintained gravel road extends to the three Poston camps.Army engineers laid out the townsites and directed the con-struction. The building job was done by the Del E. Webb Con-struction company under contract. The Army Signal corpsstrung the communication lines. The Provost Marshal's officeprovided two companiesless than 500 soldiersfor guardduty. The Indian Service receives the evacuees and operates therelocation centers which popularly are referred to as "camps."The erection of housing and facilities for a community of 20,-000 was not a new problem for army engineers or for privateconstruction companies. Jobs of no less magnitude were doneboth in World War I and again in the present emergency. Butthey were built to house soldiers, adults whose loyalty to theAmerican flag was never in question, and who moved in un-

der long-established rules of order and discipline. They set upcamp under veteran officers trained for such an emergency.But here was a new problem in human relations: Twentythousand Japanese, ranging in age from a few days to 80-oddyears, the older generation aliens, the younger people Ameri-cansall of them members of a race whose national leadershad been guilty of an atrocious act of treachery against theiradopted country. In occupational pursuits they ranged fromlaborers in the vegetable fields to highly successful merchants.Some of them could not speak English. Others had graduatedwith honors from American colleges. Some of them had sonsserving in the United States army and navy. Others formerlyhad been members of the Japanese military castemay stillbe, for that matter. They all came to Poston on a common level.It was a mass movement that has no parallel in Americanhistory, nor any precedent on which to base a new code ofrules.As project director, to handle this unknown problem, theIndian Service brought in W. Wade Head, agent for the lastsix years on the Papago reservation at Sells, Arizona. Head is agraduate of the University of Oklahoma with a fine record bothin and previous to his federal service. He has youth, a coolhead, and a fine understanding of human nature. Every hour ofevery day he has important decisions to makedecisions thatnever before confronted an Indian Service official.As assistants, the Indian Bureau brought specialists frommany placesNell Findley from Honolulu where she has

been doing educational work among the Japanese for manyyears, to direct the department of health, recreation and educa-tion; H. A. Mathieson to assume the huge task of makingthe colony self-supporting on the thousands of acres of richsilt land that surrounds Poston; Russell Fister to organize andmanage the cooperatively owned and operated Japanese storesand shops to serve 20,000 people; Dr. Leo Schnurr to establisha hospital and direct medical work; Ted Haas, attorney, to helpthe Japanese set up their own self-government; Norris James,a San Francisco newspaperman to take over as press officer andsponsor the publication of a daily newspaper, written and ed-ited by the Japanese in the English language.There are a score or more of these departmental directors andassistants, each a specialist in one of the many fields of com-

munity activity. They are there to lead and organize the Jap-anese in a self-contained community in which the Japanesethemselves will supply the manual effort and fill subordinatepositions. They have a versatile army of workers to draw from.

In the camp are highly skilled Japanese in every trade and busi-ness and profession.Isamu Noguchi is a noted Japanese sculptor. He came toPoston from New Yorkcame voluntarily. He wanted to helpAmerica solve this problem. When I visited his apartment hewas working on an exquisite bust in marble. That is his recrea-tion. His project job is landscape planning for the new city onthe desert. On the walls at the administration building is abeautifully designed sketch of the Poston of the future withparks, gardens and vine-covered cottagesif there is time andthe means to carry out the project. N oguchi drew the plan ."Tets" Iwasaki is a graduate of California School of Tech-nology. His diploma hangs on the wall of his one-room apart-ment at Poston. He is the city's new electrician.Shigeru Imamura was a trusted employe of the Imperial Ir-rigation district in California, largest in the United States. Nowhe is water-master for the irrigation project at Poston. MabelOta was an assistant librarian in Los Angeles. She and a groupof helpers have nearly 4,000 books and hundreds of magazinesall donatedclassified according to approved library meth-ods on rough board shelves in the long barracks room that has

been set aside for the purpose. There are 500 library patrons aday.Marvel Maeda, a graduate of San Diego state teachers college,is secretary to Director Head. She will join the teaching staffwhen school opens this fall. Harvey Tanaka was a paper sales-man in Imperial Valleyand he has been assigned to the mar-keting organization in Poston. And so it goes. There are skilledand willing workers for every job.There is a well-equipped hospital at Poston now. But dur-ing the first few days, before all the medical supplies arrived,the hospital cases were handled in temporary barracks. Whenthe first appendectomy came in Dr. Schnurr happened to beaway on an important mission. It was an emergency case and

the American nurses were in a quandary. Could they trust theJapanese surgeons newly attached to the staff with so import-ant a surgical operationor should they wait for instructionsfrom Dr. Schnurr?Drs. Y. Wakatake and Henry Sumida calmly assured thehead nurse they could do the operation. Reluctantly, she gaveconsent. They did not have much with which to work. But theydid a job that won the respect of the entire staff, Americansand Japanese alike.At the time I visited the settlement there were 9,000 Japanesein Camp 1 and 2,000 in Camp 2. They are still arriving from as-sembly centers all over CaliforniaLos Angeles, Santa Bar-bara, Merced, Fresno, Salinas, Imperial Valley.Five hundred recruits arrived from San Joaquin valley oneday while I was there. They came by special train from Parker.They were met with a fleet of trucks loaned by the CCC. Arriv-ing at Camp 2 they waited in line for their assignment to quar-ters. A cot was issued to each one, and a tick to be filled withstraw for a mattress. They came with only the personal be-longings they could carry with them.Quarters consist of long barracks buildings, each 20x100feet, built of wood, sealed outside with roofing paper and in-side with plasterboard. There are three partitions in each build-ing, making four 20x25-foot rooms. From five to nine personsoccupy a room. The normal is six, but where the family is largethey are permitted to remain together. The Japanese form their

own housing groups. It is the policy of the administration tokeep regimentation to a minimum.Five hundred soldiers are stationed at Poston but their dutiesscarcely touch the lives of the Japanese. They stand guard at the

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incoming roads to make sure visitors have proper permits andthey patrol certain areas where con tractors' materials are stored.There is no guard line around the camps as a whole. It wouldtake an army division to do an effective job of picketing anyone of the camps. The Japanese understand they are to remainon the reservationbut the reservation is nearly 50 miles longand 14 miles wide. There really is nothing to keep an interneefrom running away if he wants to gothat is, nothing exceptmany miles of hot arid desert extending in all directions beyondthe forest of mesquite, cottonwood and willows which coversthe valley.They are not treated as prisoners. Nor do they regard them-selves as such. So far, not a single desertion has been recorded.Openly, there is no evidence of hostility. The great majorityof those in camp discuss their plight in a philospohic ton e: "W eare here. It probably i.; for the best. And so we will accept it ascheerfully as we can."Soon after arrival each Japanese 16 years and older is givenan opportunity to enlist in the "War Relocation Work corps.After enlistment thsy are assigned to work groups and paida monthly wage of $12 for unskilled, $16 for skilled workersand $19 for executive and professional services. The doctorswho performed the appendectomy are in the $19 class. Amongthe Japanese there is some criticism of the wage differentials.Administration officials are discussing the feasibility of a flatrate for all.In addition to this pay, which covers a 44-hour week, theyreceive their food, water, electricity, heat in winter, and it isplanned to issue work clothes to certain types of laborers wherewear and tear is severe.An opportunity has been given all Japanese to sign up for re-turn to Japan if and when transportation can be arranged. Sofar 120 members of the camp have asked for repatriation.The unit of administration at Poston is the block. In eachblock there are 14 apartment houses, a dining room, recreationhall, latrine buildings with showers for men and women, laun-dry and ironing room. Wide parking area surrounds each unitof four blocks, designed as a fire break. Each block has its Jap-anese manager who represents it in matters of community ad-ministration.Original block managers were appointed by the official staff,but on July 21 the first election was held in Poston Camp 1 atwhich managers were elected by secret ballot by the Japanesethemselves. The 36 block managers now form an administra-tive council with mayor, fire chief, police chiefall the func-tionaries of a normal American city.Each day a long ca::avan of trucks rolls into camp, bringingthe many tons of food required for so large a population. Mostof the food supplies are bought through the army quartermas-ter department in Los Angeles. A cook and helpers are named

in each block. As far as possible the Japanese are given whatthey want to eat, within the limitations of a plain substantialmenu. An Anglo-American dietician would be appalled at theamount of starch they consume. Rice of course is the staple,with tea the most popular drink.Good cooks are notoriously temperamental, and the Japan-ese are no exception. Earl Best, chief steward, is often calledupon to referee the disputes that develop in the mess halls.Sometimes the argument is between the chef and his dishwash-ers. At other times it springs from menus that do not suit all thecustomers. Bring together a group of American merchants,farmers, auto-mechanics and day laborers and set them down ata table to eat the same family style dinner, and you would havethe same problems Best has to deal with in the community mess

halls at Poston. The average cost of food for one person is 37cents a day. Cooks, waiters and flunkeys are all on the camppayroll at $12 or $16 a month, according to rated skill.At one corner of the townsite Frank Kuwahara, head nurserv-

With legal guidance from the Indian Service, the Jap an-ese at Poston are setting up their own self-government.On July 21 the evacuees elected their own "block" leadersto represent them on an all-Jap anese city council. TheJapanese girl, blindfolded, is drawing names from a hat todetermine the order in which the nam es of candidateswould appear on the official ballot. In the background,center, is Ted Haas, Indian S ervice attorney, who arrangedthe election according to traditional American procedu re.At his left, Norris James,press representative of the WRA.man, is pampering 55,000 baby guayule plants shipped fromSalinas for test plantings in Parker valley. They are now takingroot in hastily built arrowweed ramadas, but as soon as irriga-tion laterals are completed, will be planted in various types ofsoil in experimental fields. Guayule is a native of the Chihua-hua desert and no one knows yet just how well it will grow andproduce rubber in the bottom lands along the Colorado river.

Army engineers found a fine stratum of water at a depth of118 feet in Parker valley. Huge tanks were built and Postonis well supplied with domestic water.Irrigation water arrived in a newly constructed canal fromParker diversion dam July 4. Additional canals are being laidout for the reclamation of as much of Parker valley's 100,000acres as time will permit. Time in this case will be determinedby the duration of the war. There is no finer soil than the sandyloam of these Colorado river bottom lands. It is the same siltthat grows huge crops of cantaloupes, lettuce, alfalfa and flax

in Palo Verde and Yuma valleys.The first 40-acre field had been cleared and leveled forplanting July 15. Mammoth bulldozers were yanking mesquitetrees out by the roots and the leveling crew was following closebehind. There is plenty of man-power and skill for a speedy jobof reclaiming this valley, but tractors and tools are limited, andprogress will depend on the availability of farm machinery.The goal is 20,000 acres the first year.First plantings will be vegetables to supply the table needsof the colonists. They are eager for the day to come when theywill be growing their own food. Some of the Japanese who ar-rived in camp the latter part of May already have little patchesof radishes growing around their quarters, watered by handfrom the domestic faucet.Church services are conducted by Japanese and Americanmissionaries of the Christian, Catholic and Buddhist denomina-tion. Japanese may worship where and how they pleasewith

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the exception that Shintoism, the pagan creed of the warriorclan in Japan, is barred.Stores and shops, still limited in stocks and crude in fixtures,are being operated by Poston Community Enterprises. RussellFister, director of these commercial enterprises has two storesand three cold drink huts, beauty parlors, barber shops, and isorganizing shoe, radio and watch repair shops. From the Jap-,anese population he has drawn managers, clerks, soda jerksand all the help necessary for operation. These commercial proj-ects are on a non-profit basis. That is, the profit goes into theJapanese community fund where it is expended for recreationaland civic activities. The first store opened May 11 and did agross business of $11.75 that day. Average receipts now exceed$2,000 a day. Since the total merchandise on the shelves sel-dom exceeds $5,000 this is a merchant's dream of fast turn-over.Dr. Willard Beatty, director of education in the office of In-dian Affairs at Washington spent July in camp getting facilitiesorganized to take care of 6,000 school students this fall. Plansinclude elementary, high school and college.The Indian department hasn't enough teachers to fill sogreat a need. Japanese girls with normal school training are be-ing enlisted to supplement the Anglo-American instructors.Since most of the Japanese came from California, the stateboard of education in that state is lending books for the classrooms.A city of 20,000 without a newspaper would be a strangephenomenon in United Statesand Poston has its Press-Bulletin. It is just a two-page mimeographed journal, comes outevery day except Monday and has a staff organization which isa counterpart of a full-fledged daily paper.Director of the journalistic activities at Poston is NorrisJames, affable young man whose title is assistant in charge ofproject reports, but who performs the usual duties of a pressand intelligence officer. He has assembled an enthusiastic staffof young Japanese reporters and columnists, and is holding inreserve a crew of linotype operators, printers and pressmen forthe day when Poston Community Enterprises may be able toundertake the printing of a newspaper.What do the Indians of the Colorado River Indian reserva-tion think about this invasion of their tribal lands?They do not like it!There are 900 Indians on the reservation, which extendsalong the Colorado river from Monument peak on the north toold La Paz on the south. Most of it is on the Arizona side. Thereservation, ceded to the Indians by treaty with United States,includes three tribes. About 60 percent are Mojaves, 35 percentChemehuevis and 5 percent Yumas. Only a small fraction oftheir rich valley has been reclaimed.In 1910 the federal government allotted 10 acres to each man,

woman and child, and installed a pumping plant to lift waterfrom the Colorado river for irrigation. This allotment planwould have been fine if no Indian ever died. But after a fewdeaths and marriages had taken place the Indian service offi-cials found themselves hopelessly involved in trying to dividefractional tracts between heirs and in-laws. The arithmetic be-came too complicated even for the white man. And so congressamended the plan and gave each family 50 acres.For the most part, Colorado river Indians :.re not energeticfarmers, and few of them ever developed the full area of theirallotments. Some of them were permitted to lease to white ten-ants, but the greater part of Parker valley has remained virginmesquite land, not even accessible by road. The Japanese cen-ters are many miles from the nearest Indian ranchero.I do not know what passed between Secretary Ickes, JohnCollier of the Indian Bureau, and officials of the War Relo-cation Authority when confronted with the problem of puttinga Japanese relocation camp on these reservation landsbut itwas a problem that called for a prompt decision. Gen. John L.

DeWitt of the west coast military zone had to have a place forJapanese evacuees without delay.The answer was a memorandum agreement between the De-partment of Interior, representing the Indians, and the WRA,which gave the latter authority to move in and take possessionof undeveloped portions of Parker valley. In behalf of the In-dians it was stipulated that the W RA must vacate the land w ith-in six months after the war endedand that all buildings, im-provements, canals and appurtenances of the project should re-vert to the Indians without cost.Under this agreement the Indians appear to have everythingto gain and n othing to lose. You and I w ould figure it that way.It would have been a gift from heaven if the early settlers inPalo Verde or Yuma or Imperial or Salt River valleys couldhave moved in on lands already leveled and under irrigationwithout cost to themselves.But the Indian m ind has a somewhat different slant. There ishistorical basis for his feeling that once the white man moves inand takes possession, his holdings are gone forever.And what does he want with all that farmland anyway? Hecan raise what he needs on his five-acre patch. He would ratherhave the mesquite forestthe original valley of the Coloradowhere his ancestors hunted and fought and lived and were con-tentin its natural state.Right or wrong, he is against this whole deal. The white manand his Japanese proteges are cluttering up his reservation withroads and power lines and telephone poles and buildings. Theyare chopping down the trees of his ancestral hunting ground.They are bringing smoke and noise, and for all he knows even-tually there will come a parade of tourists prying into hishumble dwelling and trying to take pictures of everything insight.That is the Indian's side of the story.It is a 1942 version of the same conflict that has been goingon since the first white settlers landed on the New Englandcoast.

One thing can be said in behalf of the white men who cameto this part of the New World. He never at any time enslavedthe Indian. And perhaps that is a better fate than would befallhim if America and its allies were to lose this war.If the lands are returned to the Colorado River Indians, inaccordance with Secretary Ickes' agreement, they will havemade no greater sacrifice than other Americans are making inthis emergency.Generally speaking, I found a friendly atmosphere prevail-ing at Poston. Wade Head and his associates are strongly im-bued with the pioneer spirit. They are out on a new frontier re-claiming virgin land. It is a task that has always brought out thebest in Americanscourage, patience, energy, enthusiasm.They are putting all these things into their job.They are dealing with two very distinct groups of Japanese:The issei, the older generation of men and women born in Japanwho have never acquired American citizenship. Most of themare past 50. The larger group is the nisei, the second generationwho by reason of their birth in United States are American citi-zens. A majority of them are under 35. They seldom speakJapanese except when talking with their elders. They are theproduct of American schools and have adapted themselves to arather remarkable degree to American ways.Around the headquarters offices are scores of clattering type-writers, most of them operated by young Japanesecompetent,courteous and friendly. There may be resentment in the heartsof some of the elders, but there is little evidence of it amongthe nisei.Pioneering on the desert frontier is never a bed of roses, butthe Japanese at Poston are being treated welland for the mostpart they are responding with the characteristic politeness ofthe well-bred Japanese. I can only hope that Americans internedin Japan are faring as well, and that the atmosphere in theAmerican internment camps in Japan is as cordial as at Poston.

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More rains ivould follow, thegrass ivould grow again, andall ivould b e w ell.

Call him a pagan if you wish, but the Navajo has no less fa i th in themiraculous power of his re l igion than does the Christ ian or the Moham-medan. And if you wonder why the Indian cl ings so tenaciously to thecreed of his fa thers , you wil l perhaps understand a l i t t le bet ter whenyou have read th i s s tory .

By CHARLES KELLYIllustra t ion by John Hansen

"Can you guide us?" we asked."No," he replied, "I've got to go outtomorrow for supplies. But I can get youa good Navajo guide. His name's LeonCly, and he's been to school. Speaks goodEnglish. He knows the country and canshow you what you want to see. He's goneto a rain sing today, but he'll be back to-morrow.""A rain sing?" I asked. "What's that?""Well now," Harry replied, "you fel-lows may have noticed that down in theseparts we have mighty little rain. There'sno running streams and few springs. TheIndians depend almost entirely on sheepfor their living and the only things theyhave to trade here is wool or blankets

11/ E HA D shoveled our way throughVV miles of hot red sand to reach themost isolated trading post nearthe Utah-Arizona line. Bill Campbell andI were making our first trip into the Nava-jo country and had selected as our objec-tive a section far removed from the path oftourist travel.Harry Goulding and his wife "Mike"seemed glad to see us. Few visitors everreached his lonely post. Monument Valleyhad not yet been discovered by Hollywoodand the trails leading into it were all butimpassable. We told Harry why we hadcome and he laid out a pack trip for usthat included some of the finest scenery inthe West.

woven from wool. When it doesn't rainthe grass dies and the sheep go hungry.If it's dry for a long spell the sheep dieand the Indians starve."It gets dry nearly every summer aboutthis time, and the Indians start praying forrain. They don't pray like white men, ask-ing God to do this and that. They havelong chants handed down from prehistorictimes, which must be repeated word forword without error. They sing theirprayers. The chants last four days. Theyhire a medicine man to put on the cere-

mony and all the people in this districtgather to help sing for rain.""Do they ever get rain?" I asked."D o they get rain? I'll say they do! Theyalways get it sometime before the end ofthe fourth day. Sometimes only a littleshower, sometimes a cloudburst, but theyalways get it. As long as I've been in thecountry they've never failed.""Do you believe their singing has any-thing to do with it?""Well, all I know is just what I see.Maybe the medicine men have studied theweather and know just when to start inorder to get rain in four days. If they dothey're wizards. Maybe the rain comes inanswer to their prayers. I'm not one to sayit doesn't. But I've seen them get rain so

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often that I always pay my share to hire themedicine man and figure it's a good in-vestment. If the sheep die I don't do anybusiness. I'm not superstitious but I liketo see it rain just as much as the Indians."There's a rain sing going on now overin the next valley. Maybe your guide willtake you there, but I doubt it. Up hereamong the 'long-h airs" they don't like tohave white men horning in on their cere-monies and I don't encourage it. Theytake their religion seriously and I admirethem for it. They haven't been spoiled bya lot of crack-brained Bible pounders."Next dajr Leon Cly showed up at thepost and the trader arranged with him totake us on a pack trip. Leon was about 20years old, rather small and thin. He spokeEnglish all right, but as little as he pos-sibly could. We couldn't get much moreout of him than "yes" and "no," but hisfriendly smile assured us we'd get alongall right. Harry explained to him whatwe wanted to see, and with those instruc-tions we started.Some people say the Indian has no ap-preciation of scenery as such. Leon provedthey are mistaken: He chose shots for usto photograph that have never been im-proved by many subsequent visits. Heshowed us natural bridges, chimney-holesin the rocks, petroglyphs, fossils, foot-prints of triassic animals, cliff dwellings,and pure scenery until we were dizzy. Heseldom spoke, but whenever he got off

his horse we knew there was somethingworth while to be seen. Among the mostwelcome things he showed us were water-holes tucked away in the most unexpectedplaces.On the third day out we descended intoa big, circular valley. From the rim we hadseen a herd of horses, a group of peopleand a large hogan. Our water bags weredry so I suggested we ride over to thegathering and get water." N o , " said Leon, "this is rain sing. Yougo on. I get water and catch up."The sing was being held at Nez-bit-suey's hogan. We wanted to visit the cere-mony and hear the chants, but Leon didn'twant us to go, so we curbed our curiosityand rode on.An hour later Leon came with thewater bags. Bill and I poured about a gal-lon down our parched throats. We werein a position to appreciate the importanceof water in that dry land."How many days have they been sing-ing?" I asked our guide."Today fourth day," he said.I looked at the sky significantly. Therewasn't a cloud in sight nor a breath ofwind. Leon grinned, sensing my unspoken

question. He wasn't worried; there werestill three hours left before the end of theprescribed four days.We plodded along through the sand. Itwas unmercifully hot. The horses weretired and so were we. Leon slept in thesaddle as he rode, but his heels auto-matically continued to beat a tatoo on hishorse's ribs. I shut my eyes against thesun's glare, reflected from the orangesand, and tried to doze.We had gone two or three miles andwere approaching the end of the valleywhen we were suddenly startled by thesharp report of a thunderclap. Hardly be-lieving my senses I turned in the saddleand was amazed to see, hanging in thesky, a big white thunderhead, where but

a short time before had been nothing butclear blue. It was the only cloud in sightand as I looked it began to rain on thegroup assembled at the rain sing!We watched, fascinated, until the clouddissipated itself. It rained nowhere elsein the valley. The singers were soakedwith a good heavy shower, a token thattheir prayers had been heard by "thoseabove." More rains would follow, thegrass would grow again, and all would bewell."Look!" I shouted excitedly. "It's rain-ing right on Nez-bit-suey's hogan!""Sure," said Leon Cly with a broadgrin.He had known all along it would rain.It always does.

C a s h f o r Y o u r D e s e r t E x p e r i e n c e . . .Desert Magazine wants true experience stories from the desertstories of ad-venture, exploration or unusual discovery, or perhaps about an unusual character,or a strange coincident.In accordance with announcement made last month, a cash prize of $25.00 willbe awarded for the best story of approximately 1,500 w ords. An unlimited numberof $10.00 second prizes will be given those who do not qualify for first place.Every acceptable story sent in will be paid for and published in a future issue ofDesert Magazine.Charles Kelly's story "Rain Sing" in this issue is typical of the kind of storiesdesired. However, the subjects may include mining, travel, archaeology, mountainclimbing, wild animal life, desert personalities, etc. The field is unlimited.Contestants are asked to observe the following rules in submitting their manu-

scripts :All manuscripts must be typewritten, on one side of the p age only.Entries should be addressed to Editor Desert Magazine, El Centro, California,and must reach this office by September 1, 1942, to qualify for the awards.If good sharp 5x7 or larger pictures are available, an extra $2.00 will be paidfor each photograph accepted. Pictures are not essential, however.Writers must be prepared to supply confirmation as to the authenticity of theirstories. Only true experiences are wanted, either your own, or one with which youare personally familiar.All stories must be essentially of the desert, and the scene is limited to Arizona,Nevada, Utah, New Mexico and the desert area of California.True names of those involved must be given, although with the knowledge ofthe judges, fictitious names may be substituted in special cases.If the story has appeared previously in print, this fact and the time and nameof the medium in which it appeared should be given.All readers of Desert Magazine are invited to submit manuscripts.Judging will be done by the staff of Desert Magazine, and the decision of the

judges will be final. Unaccepted manuscripts will be returned if accompanied byreturn postage.

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The hawk jlew to the top of a saguaro and con-sumed the entire rodent, meat, skin and bones.

Although often regarded by desert homesteadersas an enemy to be killed on sight, the DesertSparrow Hawk ha s m any p oints in his favor. Whileit is true it sometimes feeds on other birds, includingyoung poultry, its main diet is rodents, reptiles andinsects. Here is a close-up study of the bird, by aman who knows it intimately.

r HE first time I realized how un-justly the Desert Sparrow Hawk,along with the rest of the greathawk tribe, is judged by man, was on asunny desert morning last October.On a barbed wire fence not ten feetapart a Sparrow Hawk and a GambelSparrow sat side by side. While the hawkeasily could have caught the other bird,apparently such a thought never enteredits head. Instead, the hawk kept his jet-black falcon eyes fixed on the desert floor,while the sparrow continued unconcern-edly to sun himself.What a revealing picture it was. Herewas a hawk, generally considered a killerof small birds, not even trying to capture

By GEORGE McCLELLAN BRADTone of the very individuals for which hehad been named. It was all very perplex-ing, but I was not kept in suspense forlong.Suddenly the falcon rose into the air,flew a few yards toward the mesquite un-der which I was hiding, and then withslate-blue wings held close to its body dovestraight at a gopher mound. A yellow footarmed with black talons shot forward andseized a small body crouching in the dust.The target of that deadly aerial attack wasa little desert mouse.The victim never knew what had hap-pened. The force of the blow and a quicktwist of spinal cord by notched beak end-ed the rodent's earthly worries. Then with

both feet tightly holdin g the limp body theSparrow Hawk flew to the top of a highsaguaro.There on the giant cactus the hawk hadits breakfast. With one foot on the mouseand the other holding fast to the saguarothe falcon began tearing its victim intosmall bites. Bones, fur, flesh, everythingin fact, was consumed in the short space of10 minutes. But as one mouse does notconstitute a full meal for a Sparrow Hawkthe hunter looked about for more food.On the fence below, the Gambel Spar-row continued to sit sleepily in the sun.The hawk kept looking in the little bird'sdirection and I felt sure that this time hewould attack his "natural" prey. I did

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not have long to wait for action. For al-most immediately winged death struckagain. Straight for the fence and sparrowsped the hawk. But in mid-air halfway tothe fence the attack was halted. For a split-second the falcon hung motionless inspace, then darted up and forward to graban invisible something in the air. Bankingsteeply the bird returned to its perch.With binoculars trained on the cactus Isought the reason for the mysteriousmaneuvering. Again settled at its breakfasttable the Sparrow Hawk started on thesecond coursea large grey grasshopper.I almost laughed out loud when I saw thelittle bird bring its right foot, whichclutched the insect, up to its beak and be-gin eating the grasshopper as if it were adrum-stick or lamb chop. It was almosthuman.

So it was I learned that the SparrowHawk is not only misnamed but is evenone of the most beneficial of all the hawks.Over four-fifths of its food is made up ofinsects and rodents, the other one-fifth iscomposed of frogs, snakes, and smallbirds. When we see one of these littlehunters perched on a saguaro or telegraphpole, or soaring over cactus and creosote,let us remember that among hawks, asamong men, there may be individuals thatdo ill, but that on the whole all hawks ofwhatever species do a vast, though unap-preciated, amount of good, and should al-ways be considered and treated as alliesand true friends to man.

Last March I had one other first-handexperience with the Desert SparrowHawk. Hoping to find a Saguaro ScreechOwl in one of the many cavities dug byGila Woodpeckers in the giant cacti, Iclimbed a 30-foot specimen and reachedinto a hole near the top, to encounter fivewarm eggs. Just as I did so a strange windywhirring sound made me look skywardand I saw diving straight at my head anobject that resembled more than anythingelse a small bomb. I ducked quickly,clutching at: the same time the saguaro'strunk, spines notwithstanding. The divermissed me by a few inches. It was a Spar-row Hawkand a mad one at that. I haddiscovered its nest and it had come to de-fend the eggs. I hurried down, not wishingto harm them by keeping the parent birdsaway too long, and also to get away fromthe small but determined fighter.

A week later I again dared the fury ofthe Sparrow Hawks. This time the nestcontained in place of five eggs, five ballsof white fuzz. Once more I was attacked,but by two hawks instead of one. The as-saults merely were intended to frighten meaway, I am sure, for it is doubtful whetherthe birds would really strike. But all thesame it did give me a queer feeling aboutthe scalp. The little birds were a prettypicture. All hawks are hatched, not nakedlike many birds, but covered with a thick

coat of white down. In time this gives wayto the true feathers and then only are thelittle fellows able to fly.My last visit to the nest was made twoweeks later. I did not need a ladder to seethe young birds on this occasion. Thediminutive hunters-to-be were now fullyfeathered and quite "passable" flyers.Three were males with slate-blue wingsand black spotted buffy breast feathers,the other two were the females with chest-nut wings and breast feathers finely

streaked with light brown. The typicallyfalcon ine heads of b oth sexes were markedwith distinctive black patches on chin,cheeks, and nape. From the limbs of mes-quite and palo verde the tiny falconswould fly in frantic pursuit of grasshop-pers and lizards, but with little success.The parent birds stayed close by, however,and fed the little ones regularly until theday ca.me when each flew away alone tolive and hunt in their new and beautifuldesert world.

A ll 17 Here's another lesson in the School of the DesertR:l t- Questions in this list call for a wide variety ofinformation, all pertaining to the Great AmericanDesert. To make a perfect score you have to know something about the historyof the Southwest, its geography, botany, zoology, mineralogy and Indian life.But it is an interesting test, and a good course of instruction for the tenderfoot.The average person will not get 10 correct answers. A seasoned desert rat willscore 15, and only those super-humans known as Sand Dune Sages will exceed15. The answers are on page 24.1Coolest clothing to wear on the desert isGreen W hite Olive drab Yellow2A ncestral home of the Chemehuevi Indians is In New MexicoCocopah mountains Alon g the Colorado river In Ton to basin ofArizona3Among the native trees of the desert Southwest, the best for shade purposesis the Mesquite Palm Joshua tree Palo Verde4Author of the famous stories about the frog that never learned to swimwas Isaac W alton Frank Dobie Oren ArnoldDick Wick Hall5Obsidian is Metam orphic rock Igneous rockSedimentary rock6Hank Monk was a Bandit Mountain man Indian ScoutStage driver

7To enter scenic Oak Creek canyon from the north you would leave High-way 66 at Flagstaff Win slow Ashfork W illiam s8The squash blossom hairdress is worn by Hop i Indian girls Only at theannual snake dance. To mark their engagementAs evidence they are ready for marriage W hen in mou rning9Correct spelling of one of the best known national monuments in Arizonais Chiracuacua Chiricuha Chiruchua Chiricahua10In firing their pottery the pueblo Indian women of the Southwest generallyuse Dry aspen Dry manure Cedar wood Coal11Walls of the ancient cliff dwellings found in the Southwest generally arebuilt of Rough hewn logs Stone Adobe bricksSticks plastered with mud12Mature fruit of the Saguaro cactus isRed Golden brown Light green Pink and green13 True onyx is a variety ofAgate Calcite Gypsum Mica14Palm Springs is at the base of which mountainSan Gorgonio Santa Rosa San Ysidro San Jacinto15The stream which Major Powell called the Dirty Devil is now known asVirgin river Cataract creek Fremont creekLittle Colorado river16The state which lies northwest of the famous "Four Corners" isUtah._ Nevada Wyoming Colorado _.17Carlsbad caverns are inTexas Colorado New Mexico Arizona18Climbing over the desert rocks you discover a vug. In it you would lookfor Indian pottery A desert tortoise CrystalsA pack rat's debris19Going by the most direct paved route from Indio, California, to Wicken-berg, Arizona, you would cross the Colorado river atEhrenberg Parker Yuma Needles20Highest mountain visible from the desert is inArizona New Mexico Utah California



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Last month Marshal South told of the addition oftwo burros to his little desert homestead on top ofGhost mountain. The burros helped with the workbut they also created a new problem for the Southfamily. The cisterns, filled only by the rainwaterthat falls at Long intervals on the roof of the Southcabin, simply do not hold enough water to supplytwo burros, two goats, and the five members of theSouth family. And so the animals had to be sentaway to distant pastures. This month Marshal tellsof some of the advantages and disadvantages ofsummer heat on the desert.

By MARSHAL SOUTHfl T IS hot. As I sit in the shade and tap the keys of theV typewriter, our whole desert world, clear to the distantrim of the horizon, is a shimmering glare of sunlight.Something of the same summer blaze that prevails in the Yaquicountry of Mexico, and in the lands of the Seris Indians, whorange the island of Tiburon and the adjacent mainland. Suchlight is hard on unaccustomed eyes. Just as the primitive foodsof the desert are hard on unaccustomed stomachs.But there is a priceless compensation for every hardship thedesert has to offer. The compensation is freedom, and widerange; liberty of body and of mind. And these things are partof the desert dwellers' fiber and bone.For over 400 years the Yaqui has fought fiercely against his"civilized" aggressorswho have sought to rob him of hisfreedom. A wild land, a savage land, a land of mountains and

rocks is the homeland of the Yaqui. A desert land. Such loca-tions breed fierce love of freedom. It is the people of the moun-tains who fight onand survive. The ease-pampered dwellersof the lush lowlands too often bow the neck to the yoke of theconqueror.Desert heat is a strange thing. Not nearly so fearsome as thestory-writers w ould have us believe. But one must use the prac-tical commonsense of the desert Indian in dealing with it. Itdoes not take kindly to "high-pressure" exertion and "hustle."One must respect the very real power of the desert sun. Earlymorning and late evening are the periods for work. For therest of the day, the shadeand it is surprising how tiny a patchof shade will suffice. "The shadow of a great rock in a wearyland," wrote theprophet long, long ago. And there is a peculiarappreciation of the words by all dwellers of the wasteland. The

writer of them dwelt in a desert land; he knew whereof hespoke.And desert heat plays strange pranks sometimes. In thevicin-ity of Ghost m ountain we have come, several times, into areasof those uncanny heat pockets, which, for want of a betterterm (never having encountered any previous writing concern-ing them) I call "desert vacuums." These phenomena are notfrequent. But when one runs into them they are terrifyinglyreal. Sometimes youwalk into them and sometimes they seem toform, without warning, around you. There is nothing to see;no hint of a change. But of a sudden you are oppressed by asense of heaviness and dizziness. Every muscle and fiber of thebody seems suddenly changed to lead. Every motion, everymovement becomes difficult. The head swims and the solidearth goes round in dizzy circles. You are gripped with a veryreal fear of fainting. About all you can do is to stagger to thenearest patch of shadeif any bush or rock offers itand sitdown. Usually, after a bit, the air condition passes. Or mayhap

This is the type ofp ottery made by theSouths for theirownkitchemvare. It is made to use. not to sell, andalthoughcrude, is very serviceable.you recover enough strength to plod on and pass beyond thearea of the "pocket." The whole thing is uncanny. But it is no 'myth. I have had the same story from several hardened desertdwellers. I have had testimony to the effect that animalseven semi-wild desert cattleare susceptible to the numbinglethargy which these "pockets" induce.Explanation? Well, I have not much to offer by way of ex-planation. Mypersonal theory is that the hot dry air rising fromthe heated desert is, by the contour of certain sections of theterra;n, sucked into funnels, something on the order of thecenters of cyclonic storm s. And these "vacuum" centers in someway rob the atmosphere of ingredients necessary to life . . .possibly oxygen. Hence the feeling of collapse w hen one walksinto them. This theory may be all wrong. But the matter isworthy of study. The several cases on record where old prospec-tors have been found dead beside full canteens of water, sug-gests that under certain extreme conditions these mysterious"vacuum" pockets may be deadly.Air pockets are however so infrequent that thought of themneed deter no one from summer trips. Other tricks of the sunare equally unexpected. I recall that once, while packing up aload of supplies along the steep foot trail that leads to the crestof Ghost mountain, I was startled by a very distinct whiff ofsmoke. I stopped instantly and, after the manner of the savageor the four-footed creatures of the wilds, sniffed the air care-fully. One's nose becomes very sensitive to odors in the wilder-ness and scents carrytobacco smoke, for instance, canoften bedetected over long distances, sometimes as far as twomiles.In this instance I was baffled. The smell of smoke was there.But from whence did it come? All points of the compass seemedto give the same reaction. Possibly, I told myself, Tanya, on thesummit of the mountain, had tossed an old woolen rag intothe stove.So I went on. But presently to my amazement I not onlysmelled smoke but actually sawsmoke. It was all around me inthin spirals. Mypack was afire.Hastily I backed up to a convenient rock and disentangledmyself from the pack straps. Yes, it wasafire. A small woolen-blanket, used as a back-pad, was smouldering merrily. Butthere had been nomatches in the pack; nothing to start a fire.What could have caused it?Then, as I worked, smothering out the burning cloth, the

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explanation dawned on me. There was a glass jug full of wateramong the articles I was carrying up. The summer sun, strik-ing through the curved, water filled glass, had acted as it wouldhave done through a lens. It was only about nine o'clock in themorning. But the sun was hot. It had actually set the pack afire.Glass bottles around Yaquitepec, since that day, have been re-garded with suspicion. And we have ceased to scoff at the oldstory of the prospector who, packing a load of powder on hisback, was blown up and killedjust because he had a magni-fying glass stuck under one of the straps of his load.

There is abundant charm to desert summer, though. Muchmore than enough to outweigh any trifling tricks and discom-forts that the heat may bring. Colors glow in the far reaches ofthe wastelands and the glint of mirage is weird on the whitesands of every distant wash.Tarantula, hawksthose gay dashing waspssail throughthe warm still air above the junipers and around the crests ofthe dead mescal stalks. Sinister, romantic fellows. With theirorange wings and shining black bodies they always remind usof conventional devils from the operas . . . black velvet tightsand scarlet cloak complete. They are a tough breed of free-booters and seem to have few enemies.Once I saw a lizard make a dash and snap an alighted taran-tula hawk in his mouth. But before I could reach the spot thebig lizard dropped his prey. I had just a glimpse of a shinyblack insect and his jaunty cloak scuttling to safety under alow thicket of ramarillo bushes, while the lizard moved awaymore slowly. Had he been stabbed by some jeweled dagger?Possibly. It must have been a keen dagger. These wasteland lizards are not soft in constitution. Even the small ones thinknothing of dining upon savage black bees.The garden has dried up. A few wisps of dead leaves,scorched now to a crisp brownness beneath the contempt of evenour nibbling goats, are all that remain to remind us of the crispsalads which it so lately yielded. The main water cistern is dry.And so far the great white thunderheads which sail the blue

vault above Yaquitepec have spilled no fresh rain upon us.Water is too valuable now for gardens. We have moved ourtwo burros to distant pasturage, where they will remain till therains have filled our cisterns again. Rudyard and Victoria sheda few tears as they took sorrowful leave of them. And evenRider, now right hand man of Yaquitepec, was downcast. Butwater is water. Until our supply is replenished we do not daredole out, even the comparatively small amount that the burrosrequire. Even Conchita and Juanitaour two active littlegoatsare not allowed to waste the precious fluid.One advantage of our Ghost mountain weather is that it isnever constant. Even in summer. And stretches of glowing heatare sandwiched with spells when the sunglow is tempered withthe drive of a cool, fragrant wind. Such days are the cream of

summer. And on such days Rider, who is eagerly interested inbugs, butterflies, rock specimens and every natural thing, usu-ally persuades me to go on a hike somewhere. "We might finda spring, you know" is his most artfully used argument.Well, we have never found the spring. But we do find allmanner of other things. Last week we found a grim rocky hillwhere our predecessors, the Indian dwellers of the wasteland,had probably staged more than one sanguinary encounter withtheir enemies. A humble little "Gibraltar" of the desert. A fewpiled walls of stones in strategic points. A few caves walledand loopholed, in which defenders could crouch. But in the si-lence of the desert, as I scrambled about the mute evidences ofof some Indian "greatest war of history" I reflected that a mancould be killed just as dead by an obsidian pointed arrow asby the most expensive weapon of modern science. And that theheartaches and misery of war are neither lessened nor increasedby the methods employed.

The ancient slew with an arrow or a club. We in our vaunt-ed civilization hurl death from the skies. But death is death.And grief is grief. It makes no difference what the setting orthe period. Or how "barbaric" or "civilized" the actors in thedrama. Man is commonly reputed to have come a lon g way up-ward out of savagery. Sometimes it gives one pause to wonderif he has not forgotten, in his scramble for culture, the mostimpo rtant ingredient of life. W e have electric iceboxes andradios; we have airplanes and marvelous cannon. W e can shoutthe price of soap or the latest quotation of the stock exchangearound the world. "But w hat shall it profit a man if he gain thewhole world and lose his own soul?"ESSENTIALS

How simple are the needs of man!A little w armth, a little food,A little faith in God's good plan,A toleranceand brotherhood.Whate'er the creed, this truth still holds:God has all dominan ce of Powers,And all eternity enfoldsThis life of ours.Tanya South.

2>am In Galo^adaKINGMAN, ARIZONAConstruction work will be start-ed on the sixth dam in the lower Colorado riverDavis damat Bullshead canyonwithin the next 30 days, according tothe statement of H. F. Bahmeier, reclamation bureau engineerin charge.Bahmeier, acting immediately upon receipt here of noticethat the Utah Construction company had signed and returnedthe contract to the bureau of reclamation, ordered the contractor

to proceed with construction. According to the terms of the con-tract, the contractor has 30 days in which to begin operations.The contract was awarded to the Utah Construction companyin July. The company's bid was $18,966,392. There was onlyone other bidder.A tentative schedule of work furnished the local office of thebureau of reclamation by the contractor places the start of con-struction September 1.No announcement of the location of the contractor's campsitehas been made here. Because the government camp has beenlocated on the Arizona side of the Colorado river about twomiles below the site of the project, it is generally thought thecontractor also will build in this state.It is believed Kingman will be named by the contractor asthe railhead for the project. The state highway department hasbeen reconstructing portions of the highway during recentmonths and announced plans to pave it throughout.Davis dam, the third largest earth- and rock-filled dam un-dertaken by the bureau of reclamation, will be 200 feet high,1,600 feet long and contain 4,230,000 cubic yards of material.The power plant will consist of four generating units of 45,000kilowatts capacity each and will be located on the Arizona sideof the river.Together with power supplied by Boulder and Parker dams,Davis dam will help supply electrical energy to the war indus-tries of the Southwest. Its completion is scheduled in 1945.The five dams previously completed in the Colorado are La-guna, built as a diversion dam for the Yuma irrigation project;

Imperial dam, to divert water for the all-American canal; Par-ker dam, to divert water for the Colorado River Indian reserva-tion; Metropolitan dam, to serve the Metropolitan water dis-trict, and Boulder dam.14 T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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B y J O S E P H I N E G A M B L EChatsworth, CaliforniaLittle horned toad in the sun,If I move I know you'll runLike a streak across the sand.There! I have you in my hand;I won't hurt you, let me seeHow you run so fast from me.Short thick legs and coat of mail,Pointed ruff and stubby tailLike your fearsome ancestorSaurian or DinosaurIn the sand I think you're cute,You 're a Dragon Lil l iput .


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Jos. C. Coyle and some oj the odd sandstone concretions he has jound on Yumamesa.

Mutate 5 -0 & (2*5on the yuma. M ela

By JOS. C. COYLEf l T SOME time back in the glacialf / age, when Yuma mesa was young,and great hairy mammoths andother prehistoric beasts stalked its sandywastes, the letters of the alphabet and

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many other strangely shaped stones beganto grow there. They still do. With myfamily I live among them. We have foundsome in our very door yard. On the wallsof our home are plaques of verse and other

Some humans roam the desertin search of gold, others in questof gem stones or rare botanical -specimens or strange animal life.But when Jos. Coyle and mem-bers of his family go out on a des-ert trek their loot is for letters ofthe alphabet, formed in stone.They have been quite successfulin the pursuit of this strange hob-by, as you will know when youread Mr. Coyle's story of his five-year hunt for the A B C's thatNature has created in sandstone.

written composition, of from one to 30words, using every letter of the alphabet.All are of natural stone, formed by a pro-cess of nature from sand and calcium. Theoriginal alphabet.Some letters are rare. During five yearsof patient weekend exploration we haveaccumulated just two good Gs, and a lim-ited number of Ms and Ws. Many Es arerequired in writing things, consequentlysome of them are not too good, but othersare almost faultless. The remaining lettersof the alphabet are found frequently, al-though no two are quite alike. We haveplenty of As and several each of Q, X andZ. Most Esses are slow in curvature, butwe have some that are excellent. A coupleof the Ms are outlined on a backgroundof thin sandstone (perhaps by termites) asone writes with a cake frosting in a squirtgun. I glued the background to the ply-wood plaque and blacked it out withschool board slating.After trying other finishes I learned theblack slating doesn't reflect light in pho-tographing, and is best as a backgroundfor the rock specimens, most of which aregrey. However, specimens do not adhereto it well so I glue them to the plywoodthen paint around them. In forming writ-ten compositions I endeavor to selectthose which match best in color and size.The backs of some require a little grindingagainst another stone to secure enoughgluing surface, and occasionally I breakoff the end of a specimen to make it matchthe others in size. Otherwise the lettersare as I find them in the desert.Looking at them in amazement oneneighbor said, "Assembled they make avery striking display. Lying singly in thedesert they were just rocks to those whomay have glimpsed them in passing by."In the scramble for man-made treasuresperhaps no one even saw them until wecame along and stumbled over the key tonature's treasure chest. A writer's imagin-ation, a rockhound's nose, and a love ofnature mixed with curiosity and pouredover a. lot of spare time leg work provedthe open sesame to this hobby. It hasbrought us real enjoyment.For the entire family often takes part inthe weekend rock hunt. With a jug of wa-ter, and lunch if we expect to stay all day,T HE D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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we pour into the family flivver and pick-ing our way among areas of loose sandfind a place which looks favorable. Therewe park and the three oldest children andmyself scatter oui: to see who will be thefirst to find a letter, or other odd-shapedstone. We have also developed a certaintechnique in collecting these freaks of na-ture, but like gold they are where you find'em. Several of the choice letters, includ-ing a splendid Q. were found by Bob, myfive-year-old. The two school-age young-sters also contribute many fine specimens.I first noticed the strange looking for-mations during evening walks near home,primarily looking for float agateswhichstill are grist to our mill. I soon had sev-eral good Ls, which letter is most plenti-ful. Soon enough other letters were in thebag to spell a few simple words. Then thehunt was on. At first the search was con-fined to certain low hummocks of sand,such as drift about clumps of growing

mesquite and other desert shrubbery. Theyare covered with stone fragments closelyresembling round sticks. I discovered thatsome of these had assumed strange shapes.I have three flat specimens, almost identi-cal in shape and size, very much like atom-izers. Another was obviously a root bulb,for the stems show plainly. Several arestrikingly like long-toed cowboy boots.There is a spear head, w ith a portion of theshaft, numerous crosses, loops, whorls. AIV2 inch root 30 inches long shows ter-

mite boring prominently in the outside,obviously made when it was still wood.Once in a great while I found a letter,but I little dreamed of ever acquiring thecomplete alphabet. It soon became appar-ent that they have formed only within alimited area and about a certain elevationabove the sea. They are underground aswell as on the surface and a kangaroo ratmay kick one out of his burrow, or a rainor sandstorm may uncover it. I havescreened a few nice letters from an openpit, dug in a likely spot. The second, andeven a third trip over an area is often morefruitful than the firstwhen I am eagerand move too rapidly. Moving toward thesun, when it is low and shadows of pebblesstand out, the specimens are easier to find.

An odd fact is the duplication of someletters and other forms. For instance, therewas a shortage of good Os. Then recentlyEugene, the oldest, and I came upon 24 ofthem lying near each other in a compara-tively small area. All were round as fingerrings and very much alike. In other wordsthey all took shape from the same kind ofsource. I have found similar formations inthe shape of sea shells, so I have a feelingthey are of marine origin.

The weekly rock hunts brought to lightso many strange shapes, aside from the al-phabet, that I began assembling thesmaller of these also on plywood, withmolding around the edges. Browsingalong the mesa rim one day I suddenly

came upon another strange example ofnature's handiwork, spread upon the sandin about the space of a crazy quiltandmore fantastic than the craziest one imag-inable. Eroded by wind and weather froman outcropping of very thin flat sandstonewere most of the letters of the alphabet,mixed with grotesque figures of birds, an-imals, and reptiles. There were bear,mountain lion, Alley Oop's dinosaur, afighting kangaroo, long necked prehis-toric creatures. Reptiles included a pair ofhooded cobras. None were more than fourinches long, but very similar to largerspecimens which have been found nearSalton sea.In a slightly different type of erodedformation I have collected similar strangeshapes, but no letters. They are fatter andof finer texture than the stones describedabove. A five-inch piece is eroded to theform of a hollow log. On it I mounted arow of birds and animals. At one end arabbit has run outat the other is the lit-tle dog chasing it through the log. Allthis requires some degree of imaginationbut there's no monopoly on that. Trymy plan with your light rock specimens.You'll like it.

In exploring the mesa I found in someplaces large fragments of the sand-lime re-placement of what obviously were oncelogs and stumps of trees. Stone stumpssometimes have roots radiating from them.I found a 1V2 inch root five feet long of

Whe n on their desert trips in search of alp habetical concretions,members of theCoyle family find many o ther odd and interesting forms.S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 2 17


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sandstone. Logs and stumps are usuallyhollow shells. In the top of one stump waswhat looked like the footprint of a greatbeast. At first I thought it had been a ballof mud collected on an animal's foot andthen cast off to finally harden into rock.The formation is of varying hardness andcolor, but I have no doubt most of it wasonce wood or other vegetation.This is bcirne out by the report of a wellknown geologist to whom I sent samplesand photographs. He said the specimenswere sand, cemented and hardened by cal-cium-laden water. Sand had filled the cavi-ties left by decomposed roots or stems andthe lime-bearing water had solidified it.Gnarled and knotted roots and limbs,then, provided the original forms for thesestrange casts.Later, in an open cut eight feet deep, Ifound the entire process he described un-mistakably illustrated. Near the surface is astratum of compacted red sand, laced withstreaks of limestone. Somehow, desertplants send their roots through this caliche-like material into the sand beneath. ThereI found green roots, dead roots, other deadroots with a shell of sand collectingaround them as the fiber rotted away.There were roots entirely replaced by sandbut so soft they crumbled when picked up.Still others had hardened into concretionslike those in my collection.The tire restrictions have not interferedwith our hunting. This is one hobby thatcan be pursued only on footwe'veroamed over 40,000 acres and walkedhundreds of miles during the last fiveyears in building our collection. And theywere happy m iles, out here on the A rizonadesertevery one of them.

NEVILLS COMPLETES 4thTRIP THROUGH CANYONCompleting his fourth trip through therapids of Grand Canyon, Norman Nevillswith a party of six men and two boys ar-rived at Boulder City August 1. This was

the 19th successful expedition to makethe voyage since Powell made his memor-able exploration trip in 1869.The start of this trip was at Lee's Ferrywhere the party left July 15. A two daystop was made at Phantom ranch for restand supplies. Dr. Harold Bryant, superin-tendent of Grand Canyon national parkmet them at that place.Two boys who were on the trip wereBruce Wilson, 13, and Garth Marston, 16.Bruce was the youngest person ever tomake the trip. Both boys were accom-panied by their fathers.At the head of Lake Mead, 110 milesfrom Boulder dam the voyagers reachedthe camp of a party of government engi-neers who are working on plans for con-trolling the silt which is filling the upperpart of the lake.The boats were lined around Hermitcreek and Lava Falls rapids. One of theboats capsized in lining Lava Falls, pin-ning E. A. Hudson of Banning beneath.But he was promptly pulled out by othermembers of the party. This was the onlyserious threat to the safety of the expedi-tion members.Nevills has established an unusual rec-ord in making four trips without loss oflife or boat. He is planning his next ex-pedition in October from Moab, Utah, toLee's Ferry.

Sez HardRock ShortyofDeathValleyBy LON GARRISON

'Argaments," offered Hard RockShorty, "is as unpredictable as wom-en. There ain't no tellin' which waythey'll go next. Me, I've been insome o' the gol-dingdest, jawbustin' argaments you ever run into.An' I was right ever' time, or atleast I could o' won ever' time, ifthe other feller'd only stick to thesubjeck."Hard Rock shook his head sadlyover the unprincipled methods ofargumentation used by some of hisopponents."One winter in the early days Iwas livin' here in Inferno an' aIrishman moved into the place nextdoor. That guy was plumb contum-acious. He'd argue over the time thestage'd ought to come in or over theweather. His favorite topic was re-ligion, though women an' how toraise kids was close seconds."He'd another bad habit, an'that was borrowin'. He'd borrowanythin' in sight an' keep it 'til itwas wore out an' then he'd tell youto come get it back an' he'd borrow anew one off o' somebody else.Natcherlly this got 'im into arga-ments an' he'd argue 'til the totherguy was blue in the face an' give upin self defense. Best example o' hisidea o' logic come up the time heborrowed the tea kettle from OldMan Perkins.'Perk was a right handy catch-as-catch-can arguer hisself an' downto the post office one day he hoppedon this Irishman about keepin' thistea kettle until it was busted an'sendin' it home all wore out. TheIrishman was caught flat-footed fora minute but he recovered quick.He come right back with one o' hissamples o' logic an' it stopped Perkcolder'n yesterday's mush.1 'Yer wrong on three counts,'says the Irishman. 'In the first placeI never had yer damned old teakettle. In the second place, it wasbusted when I got it. In the thirdplace it was all right when I sent'er home!' "



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B y B oat to the L ake of Mystery

-LE.GEND-PLACES ESTABLISHED SIMCETH E EXPEDITIONAPPROXIMATE COURSEFLOODED AREAS

In 1891 when Southern Pacific trainmen reportedthe sudden appearance of a mysterious "lake" in thegreat desert basin west of the Algodo nes sa nd dunes,the people of Yuma became alarmed lest therising waters should cut off their rail com-munication with the Pacific coast. Many the-ories were advanced as to the sourceof this strange bod y of water. GodfreySykes , then a youth looking for ad-venture, volunteered to go down theColorado river in a skiff and seewhether the new lake was being fedby overflow waters from the river, orby rising tides in the Gulf of Cali-fornia, as some Yumans suspected.Sykes is now residing at Tucson, Ari-zona, and here is the story of that

hazardous b o a t trip ,written especially forreaders of Desert Maga-zine.

By GODFREY SYKESIllustra t ions by Norton Allen^ / IFT Y-O NE years ago last spring/ I was stranded in Yum a, Arizona,temporarily minus almost every-thing except a robust appetite and a keendesire to undertake whatever might offerin the way of adventure, provided therewas a substantial grub-stake attached to it.I had just returned with a companionfrom a rather strenuous cruise on the lit-tle known upper end of the Gulf of Cali-fornia. We had played with the tidal-bore,or "burro" as the natives called it, someheavy weather, and sundry boisterous tide-rips. Disaster had overtaken us by the ac-S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 4 2

cidental burning of our boat one nightwhen we were camped ashore. This catas-trophe had left us with practically nothingto eat except a few kerosene-soaked hard-tack biscuits, and with about 200 miles ofinhospitable desert intervening betweenour burnt boat and the nearest Chineserestaurant in Yuma.However, the walk was accomplishedwith the help of the additional calories ob-tained from some fortunately discoveredoysters, a small coyote, and a fish caughtby a fluke, supplemented by a notablefeed of frijoles given to us by some Mexi-

can hunters whom we encountered in thetule-brakes of the Colorado delta.My partner lost his shoes in the fire

and was practically barefooted. He hadcome along bravely, however, and wereached Yuma with nothing except the tat-tered clothes we wore, a few dollars in ourpockets and some very liberal ideas as tothe quantity of food we could consume.By the time we had filled ourselves tocapacity our pockets were about empty.We wondered what to do next.My companion, with acute recollectionsof the dry and hungry days we had passedthrough, decided to stay for awhile inclose proximity to the flesh-pots, and ac-cepted a position as assistant cook at a

lunch-counter. This left me alone withthe remnants of my hunger, a still unsatis-fied ambition to do more exploring, but19


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Two large sheds were the ivarehouses of the steamship com p any which op erated at Yu ma before the ra ilroad came. The littlecabin on the left wa s originally at Port Ysabel at the mouth of the Colorado but was brought to Yu ma on a barge ivhen the ship-yard was abando ned. This sketch by Norton Allen is based on Go dfrey Sykes' recollection of the Yuma waterfront in 1891.extremely limited resources for undertak-ing anything of the kind.Yuma at that time was passing througha period of stagnation, with no interestsexcept the railroad and the river, whichcrossed each other at its northwest cor-ner. It still retained some of the tang andtraditions of a seaport, although its sea-borne commerce had terminated 15 yearsearlier, when the Southern Pacific railroadcrossed the Colorado and short-circuitedthe earlier trade route around Cape SanLucas and up the gulf to the head of tide-water.

During the earlier territorial days inArizona, practically all supplies from theoutside world had come in by way of thiscircuitous sea and river route. The navi-gation of the lower river from salt-waterto Yuma always had been a nightmare tothe steamboat pilots. With the coming ofthe railroad they not only abandoned butapparently had made haste to forget thisentire region. Occasional trips upstreamfrom Yuma with local freight to miningcamps and other small settlements was allthat remained of river traffic.

The winter of 1890-91 had been an ex-tremely wet one throughout central andsouthern Arizona. When the flood-watersof the normally dry rivers and washes hadunited to fill the Salt river and the Gila,the resu lt was a flash-flood of unprece-dented volume which had poured into theColorado, and almost removed the townof Yuma from the map.There were no levees worthy of the

name to impede the flood, and as nearlyall the saloons and other places of businessalong the main street, were constructed ofadobes, willow poles, saguaro-ribs, and

dried mud, with heavy earth roofs, theymelted away like sugar.But the inhabitants of Yuma werecheerful and optimistic souls. They quick-ly salvaged what they could from theflood, and started to rebuild. Reconstruc-tion was well under way when my com-panion and I reached Yuma.Other troubles appeared to be in pros-pect, however. Trainmen on the run be-tween Salton and Volcano, reported theyhad seen a steadily-increasing expanse ofwater glittering in the sun in the greatbasin in the California desert 60 miles westof Yuma.As the railroad tracks were known to bemore than 200 feet below sea level, and asthe- Gulf of California seemed to be themost likely source of water coming intothis area, there was concern lest the risinginland lake should submerge the tracksand thus sever all rail connections betweenYuma and its trading centers on the coast.The lowest part of the basin, southwest-ward from the railroad, was salty andmarshy. Flood waters had appeared fromsomewhere from time to time, constitutingwhat was originally known as the Big La-goon, and later as the Salton Lagoon. Thelast appearance of a lake of any consider-able area had been about 25 years earlier.Memories generally are short in virgin ornewly settled regions, and the records ofsuch earlier appearance generally had beenforgotten or overlooked by the excitedcitizens of Yuma, who so recently had lostmost of their property and other posses-sions to the invading waters of the river.Many theories were advanced as towhere this latest prospective menace totheir future prosperity might be coming

from, and what it might portend in theway of another major disaster.The townsfolk who were not too busilyengaged with excavating their belongingsfrom the debris of their earth roofs, spentmuch time sitting on what was left of theship-launching ways on the river bankand considered the matter in all its bear-ings. "If," said some, "somebody couldgo down into that God-forsaken countrybelow the Mexican line and explorearound for awhile, he might find outsomething about it."

It was thought possible by some thatthe water might be coming directly fromhigh tides in the gulf of California. Othersthought that mysterious undergroundchannels might be feeding the lake.Among the many ideas advanced was thatsummer storms in Baja California mightbe responsible.The most reasonable theory, however,was tha

Documents

194209 Desert Magazine 1942 September