195410 Desert Magazine 1954 October

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O U R F R E E C A T A L O G N O . 5 4 2 IS T H EW O R L D S L A R G E S T C A T A L O G o f J E W E L R Y P A R T S

H E R E A R E A F E W T Y P I C A L I T E M SLIBERAL DISCOUNT TO ESTABLISHED DEALERS IMMEDIATE DELIVERY FROM STOCKN o . 6-1

BAIL, NO PEGCementing to Baroque GemsSterling Silver or Gold Filled

4 for $1.00$2.25 doz.

N o . 14-4BELL CAPNEW IMPROVEDCementing to Baroque GemsRhodium, Gold or Copper Plaied

$1.30 per doz.MINERALS FOR "ATOMIC ENERGY"

By Robert D. Niningerof U.S. Atomic Energy Commission

To be published late September, 1954$7.50 per copy

This is a complete handbook to prospectingfor atomic energy minerals written by theDeputy Asst. Director for Exploration of theAtomic Energy Commission.

N o . 39-1KEY RING

Gold or Rho-dium Plated4 for $1.00$2.25 doz.

N o . 43-16EARWIRES

Rhodium or Gold Plated$1.25 doz.

X o . 77-6Pendant Misc.18x25 mm. oval. S. S.Rhodium PI . SI.2.1 oa.$11.25 doz,

Stcr. Bil. (Polishednoplate) SI oa.$10.50 (Iz.Gold Plated 50c ca.$4.50 doz.

Xo. 65-4 Brooch Mtg.Same as above but with-out ring and with pinfor wearing as a brooch.Sterling Silver RhodiumPlated $1.50 ea.S1.J d/..Gold Plated si.oo ca.$9.50 doz.

N o . 45-2EARWIRESSensat ional new type. Holdswell and is comfortableSterling Silver$1.40 pr. ST.00 doz. piecesGold PlatedSI.20 pr. S0.00 doz. pieces

N o . 59-2BUTTON BACK

Flat disc W with solderedon ring. Rhodium or

Gold Plated$1.35 dozen

N o . 67-13CUFF LINK MOUNTING

Vi" discOur largest sellerFor Cementing Baroque

Gems. Rhodium orGold Plated60c pair$3.00 doz. pieces

N o . 67-17CUFF LINK MOUNTINGS

Holds stones securelyNickel or Gilt PlatedEOc pr$4.00 doz. pcs.

N o . 92-1BOW PIN

With pinback andSafety Catch

Rhodium or Gold Plated4 for $1.00$2.00 doz.

N o . 92-4FLEUR-DE-LISWith Pinback

Gold or Rhodium Plated4 for $1.00-$2.25 doz.

N o . 87-3TIE BAR MOUNTING

With 1/2" disc for Cementing to BaroqueGems. This and our No. 67-13 Cuff Mount-ings Match.

Rhodium or Gold PI.50c ea.$4.50 doz.

N o . 21-11 CHAINGold, Rhodium or Copper Plated

50c ft.-10 ft. $3.00

N o . 7-5/16"5/16" diameterBEAD (TWO HOLES)

All sizes availableSterling Silver $1.25 dozenOVAL AND ROUND JUMP RINGSSterling Silver or Gold Filled

N o . 54-4 35cdoz.$1.50 grossN o . 55-17 35c doz.$2.00 gross

We stock all sizesNo.101-3

SPRING RINGS7 m m . diameter

'Sterling Silver or Gold Filled $1.25doz.Copper Plated 80c doz.$8.00 gross

Gold Filled Wire for Baroque Gems16 ga.- 5 ft. $1.6018 ga.- lO ft. $1.9520 ga.-lO ft. $1.3022 ga.-lO ft . $1.0024 ga.-lO ft. $ .7526 ga.-lO ft. $ .60

W e Stock a Complete Lineof Copper Jewelry Parts

Please add 10% Federal Excise Tax to all items listed except G. F. Wire and Copper ItemsCalifornia Residents Add 3% Sales TaxPostage Extra

O U R STORE IS COMPLETELY AIR CONDITIONEDGRIEGER'S 1633 E. WALNUT ST. PASADENA 4, CALIFORNIA

O U R STORE IS OPEN EVERY DAY EXCEPT SUNDAY FROM 8:30 TO 5:00. PHONE SY. 6-6423

DESERT M AGAZI NE


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D E S E R T C A L E N D A RSept. 15-October 31 - - Exhibit ofPaintings of Desert Flora by Wil-liam A. Hamilton. SouthwestMu-seum, LosAngeles.Sept. 25-October 3State Fair Ro-d e o , Albuquerque, New Mexico.Oct. 1-3 - - Cochise County Fair,Douglas, Arizona.Oct. 2-3Apple Day,Julian, Cali-fornia.Oct. 2-3Santa Cruz County Fair,Sonoita, Arizona.Oct. 3 Annual Rodeo, Sonoita,Arizona.Oct. 3 Ranchos deTaos, Candle-light Procession, Santa Fe. New

Mexico.Oct. 3-4Feast of St. Francis, SanXavier Mission, Tucson, Arizona.Oct. 4Spanish Fiesta, Ranchos deTaos, Feast Day St. Francis, alsoin Santa Fe, New Mexico.Oct. 5-9Eastern New Mexico StateFair Rodeo, Roswell, New Mexico.Oct. 8-10 Tri-State Fair, Deming,New Mexico.Oct. 9Pegleg Trek andLiar's Con-test, Borrego Springs, California.Oct. 11Annual Aspencades Ruidoso,

Santa Fe,New Mexico.Oct. 12 Harvest Dances, TesuquePueblo, Santa Fe,New Mexico.Oct. 13-16 Kiwanis InternationalSouthwest District Convention, Al-buquerque, New Mexico.Oct. 16Fall opening Palm DesertArt Gallery, Desert Magazine Pue-b l o . Open 7 days a week duringwinter.Oct. 16-17 Graham County Fair.Safford, Arizona.Oct. 17Tucson Fine Arts Galleryopens for season, Tucson, Arizona.Oct. 21-23State Nurses Convention,Tucson, Arizona.Oct. 21-24Pima County Fair, Ro-deo Ground, Tucson, Arizona.Oct. 22 Annual Historical SocietyMeeting, Salt Lake City, Utah.Oct. 22-24YMCA Interstate Lay-men's Conference, Albuquerque,New Mexico.Oct. 23-24Papago Indian Fair andRodeo, Sells, Arizona.Oct. 26-28 Arizona State GardenClub Conference, Yuma, Arizona.Oct. 29-31Arizona 100Year Cele-bration, "Gadsden Purchase" Cen-tennial, Yuma, Arizona.Oct. 31 - - Hallowe'en Parade andMardi Gras, Barstow, California.

Volume 17COVER

CALENDARHOMESTEADINGDESERT QUIZEXPLORATIONCELEBRATIONCONTESTPHOTOGRAPHYFIELD TRIPEXPERIENCECLOSE-UPSPOETRYPERSONALITYMEDICINELOST MINELETTERSNEWSFICTIONMININGHOBBYLAPIDARYCOMMENTBOOKS

OCTOBER,1954 Number 10Pain ted Desert near Holbrook, Arizona. Color

photo by Syl Labrot of Boulder, ColoradoOctober events on the desert 3Five Acres of Freedom

By CATHERINE VENN PETERSON . . . . 4A test of your desert knowledge 8Boatride in Desolation Canyon

By RANDALL HENDERSON 9An Invitation from Death Valley '49ers . . . 14Prizes for desert photographers 14Pictures of the Month 15Gem Hill on the Mojave

By JAYELLIS RANSOM 16Life on the Desert

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS AYLWARD . . 20About those whowrite for Desert 21Ghost Town and other poems 22Burro Man of Corn Springs

By EDMUND JAEGER, D.Sc 23New Snake Bite Treatment 26Lost Black Mesa Placer, by E. C.THOROMAN . 27Comment from Desert's readers 28From here and there on the desert 29Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley 29Current news of desert mines 34Gems and Minerals 35Amateur GemCutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . 41Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 42Reviews of Southwestern literature 43

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., Palm Desert,California. Re-entered as second class matter July 17, 1948, at the postoffice at Palm Desert,California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1954 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, Editor

BESS STACY, Business Manager EVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation ManagerUnsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be returned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility fordamage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Sub-

scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.SUBSCRIPTION RATES

One Year $3.50 Two Years $fi.00Canadian Subscriptions 2.1c Extra, Foreign 50c Extra

Subscriptions to Army Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP. O. D. Order No. 19687

Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, California

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Much of the land is arid. Wells and electric lines and gas mainsseldom are available, and often it requires a bulldozer to smooth adriv ew ay to the front door. Yel in spite of these han dica ps, Am ericansin ever increasing numbers are spending their weekends and vacationtime building cabins on the five-acre plots Uncle Sam has made avail-able for them under the Small Tracts Act of 1938. Jackrabbi t home-steaders, they are called, and the writer of this story is one of them.

By CATHERINE VENN PETERSONNE EVENING last April thejackrabbit homesteaders fromSection 21 gathered in the com-munity Hall in Apple Valley, Cali-fornia for their annual meeting. Theyhad many problems to solve. Theywanted a community swimming pool

and a playground for the youngsters.They needed a garbage dumpand no

one wanted to live near it. Some thingmust be done to abate the dust fromtheir dirt roadsperhaps a 15-mile-an-hour speed limit would help.These were but a few of their prob-lemsthe same problems that haveconfronted frontier Americans sincethe settlement of America began.But this was a 1954 setting. These

pioneering folks on Section 21, mostof them, have jobs and good homes inthe Los Angeles metropolitan area.They came out to the desert becauseUncle Sam was offering five-acre tractsat bargain prices, and they wanted tospend as much of their weekend andvacation time away from dazzling ne-ons and honking traffic as they could.There are no municipal laws or citypolice to discipline the 90-odd tract-holders in Section 21. When theywant improvements they raise themoney by popular subscription, andwhen they decide by popular vote toimpose restrictions on themselves andtheir neighbors the obligation to obeyis purely voluntary. This is demo c-racy at its best.

Guernsey Close, one of the homesteaders in Section 21,planted fruit trees for the birds and then had todevise these inverted funnel gadgets to keep the rodentsfrom stealing the fruit before it was ripe.Rolland Smith, left, secretary, and Frank Drunert,president of the Mariana Ranchos. They helped builda cooperative colony on the Apple Valley desert whichis a model for jackrabbit homsteade rs.

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It was in 1945 that a little groupof Los Angeles men heard about theSmall Tract Act which Congress hadpassed in 1938. From Paul B. Witmer,manager of the U.S. Land Office in LosAngeles, they learned that any Ameri-can citizen could obtain a lease on fiveacres of land in the public domain, andthat by meeting certain requirementsas to improvements, the tract couldbe bought at a nominal price. It wasnot necessary to live on the land, aswas required under the old homesteadlaws.

Frank Drunert, a successful businessman in Los Angeles, was one of thefirst to envision a little colony of ur-banites with weekend homes on thedesert at Apple Valley. His enthusiasmand vision were contagious and manyof the owners in Section 21 are friendsand business associates in the metro-politan area folks who knew eachother long before they became home-steaders.Early in their planning the lesseesin Section 21 decided they wanted amore distinctive name than jackrabbithomesteaders for their colony. Orig-inally, Section 21 was an old Spanishland grant named Mariana Ranchos,after the daughter of the Spanishgrandee landowner. It was decided togive this name to the colonyMarianaRanchos.

Since Uncle Sam offers his jack-rabbit homesteaders nothing but thebare land and rocks of the public do-main, there were problems of water,sewage, roads, electricity and tele-phones to be solved.The San Bernardino County gov-ernment helped solve the school androad questions, but the utilities whichhave brought most of the modern con-veniences and comforts to this remotedesert community were secured bycooperative effortby a generous giveand take attitude on the part of thecolonists themselves.The colonists formed the Section 21Development Association. Drunert ispresid ent. Fifty-two of the originaltract-holders signed as guarantors forthe installation of a water system.The tract was surveyed, and build-ing requirements were set up, callingfor basic floor space of not less than400 square feet, cement floors, plumb-ing and wiring, proper septic tanksand cesspools. During the construc-tion days a spirit of old-fashionedneighborliness prevailed and still

prevails.There are now 75 homes in thesection, the average ranging from$5,00 0 to $10 ,000 in cost. Howev er,a few are more elaborate. Mr. andMrs. Fred Merk have $35,000 investedin a rambling ranch style residence

Typical homes in the Mariana Ranchos colony homes that average from$5000 to $10,000 in cost. Many of the homesteaders did the planning andmuch of the construction on these homes.that is unique in the field of desertarchitecture.Many of the tract-holders did muchof the building themse lves. BurtonDuryea, colony treasurer, and asso-ciated with the Los Angeles stock ex-change, worked for 38 days from sun-rise to sunset to complete his home.Mrs. Duryea and their two boys werethe interior decorators. By employingfamily energy and ingenuity theyworked out an air circulation and cen-tral heating system which gives themcomplete comfort under all desertconditions.

Roland Smith, secretary of the as-sociation, says he owes his health andhis Los Angeles job to the weekendshe spends in his desert home . M rs.Smith told how the wives of week-enders have their cars packed andready so that when the bread-winnerscome home from work Friday after-noon they can head for the desertwithout a mom ent's delay. The chil-dren are always impatient to get backto their desert playgrounds . TheSmiths, like many of their neighbors,have done an artistic job of landscap-ing with native shrubs and flowers,

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Adaline and Herbert Anderson are building their own cement block homein the Mariana Ranches. Herbert is hod-carrier while Adaline does themasonry.and have set out fruit trees and planteda garden.Mariana Ranchos is the most highlydeveloped of any of the homesteadcolonies, but thousands of Uncle Sam'slittle five-acre tracts are in process ofbeing improved all over the desertsector of Southern California.

Typical among these small tractowners is Art Kurth, an ex-Seabee,who formerly had a little cabinet shopin Los Ang eles. He heard abou t thegovernment's new deal for homestead-ers, and began asking questions aboutit. At the Land Office in Los Angeleshe examined official maps and tractbooks, and learned there was a tractin Section 12 in the Joshua tree areawhich a previous claimant had for-feited.Land office officials advised him towithhold his filing until he had madea field inspection of the land. A gra b-bag homestead might well be on amou ntain top o r in a rocky canyon,inaccessible and difficult to improve.He was told it would not be necessaryfor him to establish residence on thetract, but that before the end of thethree-year lease period he would haveto build a substantial cabin-type dwell-ing with provision for water and sani-tary facilities for habitab le living. Hewas warned that in his building planshe must conform to the existing zoning

regulations of the area.The lease figure of $5.00 a year forthe three-year term sounded reason-able. He was told that when he hadbuilt a cabin he could apply for a pat-ent. Then the land would be appraised

on a basis of its previous unimprovedstate. Appraisals might vary from $10to $80 an acre, but in Section 12 theaverage had been $20. He learnedthat it is not the policy of the LandOffice to renew leases except in unus-ual cases where special circumstancesbeyond the control of the applicanthave made it impossible for him or herto complete their required improve-ments in the 3-year period.Art was further informed that UncleSam assumes no responsibility for thecharacter of the land, construction ofroads, development of utilities or tractsurveys, and that filing an applicationcarries with it definite obligations asto the use and development of the land.These were set out in the printed mat-ter which Art took home to read.That Sunday the Furth's set out intheir car for Joshua Tree village about130 miles from Los Angeles. Therethey obtained directions to Section 12two miles up Monum ent Road. Artparked too far off the pavement andthe car became stuck in the sand.Luckily a jeep came to their rescue.After that Art tightened the laces inhis sturdy marine boots, strapped onhis canteen and started out throughthe Joshuas, cacti and boulders intothe unscratched terrain. With the aidof the checkerboard section diagramhe located the right cornerstone andpaced off the distance to the claim. Itbrought him to the crest of a nearbyknoll.This was the spot! He knew itinstinctively. He looked out upo n thewide expanse of desert, bounded bydistant hills blue-veiled in summerhaze. Now more than anything else

he wanted to build a cabin in thesepicturesque Joshua-studded hills. Herewas a new challenge perhaps morerewarding in time than anything hehad und ertaken. All the way back tothe city the Seabee slogan "Can-do!Can-do," rang in his ears.Monday morning Art was back atthe Land Office when it opened andfilled out the simple application form4-776 and paid the regular filing feeof $10 plus $15 advance lease rentalfor the three-year terma total of $25.On the display board were picturesof acceptable cabins built by jackrab-bit homesteaders in various areas.Most of them were one room cabinswith cement floors. Several showedthe water tanks and septic type ChicSales. In areas where water and powerhad been developed the dwellingslooked as pretentious as most modernsuburban cottages.A little later Art walked away fromthe counter with his receiptand witha feeling that one of these days he wasgoing to have a real stake in UncleSam's dom ain. This was somethingmore than a land leaseit was a newlease on life, and he looked forwardwith eager anticipation to the daywhen he could start building a littlehome of his own out there on thedesert frontier.

Nineteen months' service as a heavyequipment operator in the South Pa-cific had taught Art many things.Aside from resourcefulness and inge-nuity, he learned that it pays to putthe horse before the cart. So conserv-ing his limited capital he acquired thewar surplus truck that hadn't run forsix years and readied it for serviceagain. W ithout it the Kurth ho me-stead might have been like that ofadjoining tractholders who would driveout and sit in their car down on thehighway and longingly gaze up at arock they had painted white to marktheir future homesite.

With the truck in commission Artspent successive weekends opening thefirst roadway into the section, handgrubbing the stubborn growth andclearing off rocks . Ou t of timb ers hebuilt a drag which he used to smoothand pack the sand. He carried inwater in a 50-gallon oil drum, pitcheda tent and built a lath sun shelter. Oc-casionally relatives came out and puttheir backs to the project. Th e de-composed granite knoll was gradedwith hand tools, and by Labor Day theforms were in and the ready-mix ce-ment slab was poured.After his helpers had departed Artsat alone in the desert stillness andfaced a decision. "T he desert had beentaking me over," is the way he ex-pressed it. He decided he would putall he had into this undertaking and

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ZTie /4ri Kurths built a homestead cabin in Joshua Tree Valley and then founda way to make a living out on the desert.he felt sure that the desert would takecare of him.He returned to the city and sold hiscabinet shop without waiting for abetter price. Th en followed six weekson the desert with only his dog whilethe first cabin in Section 12 took shape.

With approximately $1400 worth ofmaterials and no labor cost except histime, Art built a 14x28 foot cabin ofknotty pine and sheet rock walls withinsulated sidings. There are threelarge picture windows and porch spaceextending the length of the house. Thecabinet work and custom built furni-ture reflect Art's fine taste and crafts-manship.A year had elapsed and in the fallof 1953 Art applied for and receivedthe patent to his homestead for thepurchase price of $100.Now Art Kurth is one of the busiest

and most helpful men in the Joshuaarea. His business card reads:"Can-Do"Custom-Bilt Desert CabinsFive-Acre Road WorkCabinets BuiltThere are now 60 low-cost cabinserected or under construction in thisarea. Mo st of these settlers have 1000 -gallon water tanks. A tank wagonwill bring 850 gallons of water tothem for $5.00.Here the underground water tableis 100 to 500 feet deep.If Art can't be found working onone of his numerous jobs, he is prob-ably pulling some tenderfoot or visitorout of the sand with his four-wheel-drive marine truck.Over on the other side of the SanBernardino Mountains is Section 36

where 1 pioneered alone on a jack-rabbit hom estea d. This section is inrough terrain, cut up with washes,rocky hills, canyons and mountainslopes. Road s were largely handcarved and packed, a tedious andbackbreaking job. After much futileexploration for water, it still comes incans and tanks of our own toting andhauling. Power has not reached us.Our light comes from the moon andthe stars and lamp wicks. Our he atcomes from the sun and oil burners.We cook over campfires and flamesfrom tank gas. Our homes are thesmall cabin type, neat and well kept.We have no need for plumbers butwe have no sanitation problems. Ourroads skirt the bajadas and wind aboutthe rocky hilltops. Ou r shovels arealways out and often in use. Ou rflowers, shrubs and trees were herelong before our predecessors, the Ca-huilla Indians. Our nocturnal musicdoes n't come from a dial tone. Plain -tive, haunting voices of coyotes oftenserenade us and the melodious notesof desert birds awaken us. Many ofour friends and neighbors come onfour feet and wing. The wind comestoo and the heat, but being pioneerswe can take it. We know that w ithoutit we wo uldn't have a desert. It tookpatience, perseverance, hard toil andclose budgeting in many instances, butyou have never met more enthusiasticpeople. Our desert doesn't give uptoo easily, but the tract holders inSection 36 seem to like it that way.If the prospect of five sunsweptacres under desert stars quickens yourpioneer blood, all you need do is hieyourself to the nearest Land Office orwrite to the State Superintendent, or

to Edward Woozley, the new Director,Washington 25, D. C.State what part of the country youare interested in and ask for the leafletcalled "Facts on Small Tracts" andthe circular of regula tions. This leaf-let gives the addresses of the StateLand Offices, which you may write orvisit, and the extent and location of

available land in each region. Fineareas are still available in 24 states.Southern California is the cradle ofthe jackrabbit homestead and UncleSam's big bonanza in small tracts,with around 8,000,000 acres of publicdomain land hardly scratched.Paul B. Witmer, the revered deanof jackrabbit homesteaders, is managerof the Bureau of Land Management'sLo s An geles office. Th is office ha sclassified nearly 150,000 acres forsmall tracts, issued 24,000 leases, and

in an average day receives 75 applica-tions. Patents have been received by1500 lessees and there are another1500 in process. And though UncleSam is not in the real estate business,leasing and selling unproductive landto all of the people in small parcelsseems to be putting idle land to its bestuse in developing home and communitybuilding. Th at is the intent of theSmall Tracts Act passed by congressin 1938. The Southern Californiaoffice alone has put $2,500,000 worthof land on the tax rolls.Land available for jackrabbit home-steaders is part of the public domainand is generally unsuitable for farming,pasturage, national forests or parks. Itwas set aside by the Congress for suchpurposes as home, cabin, health, con-valescence and recreational sites. Un-

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de r the act, whether lease or patent,the United States reserves rights to alldeposits of coal, oil, gas or otherminerals on or under the surface.Speculation on the part of lease-holders is precluded because land isno t to be held longer than the leaseterm, nor can any family residing un-de r the same roof hold more than onetract. Of course every lessee must bea United States citizen, 21 years ofage or more. Subleasing is not per-mitted, but under certain circumstancesleases may be assigned subject to theapproval of the manager or appropri-ate officer. On land classified for leaseonly, the term is five years with arental of $25 for the term. No refundis made of rentals for the unexpiredterm of a lease relinquished by thelessee or canceled for cause by themanager. However, a period of 90days is given within which to removeimprovements from the land or makedisposition of them regardless of howthe lease is given up.

Passage of the Small Tracts Act hasopened vast areas of land, not forprofit or exploitation, but for folkswho like to build with their own hands,an d who are thrilled by the challengeof creating a home of their own, evenif it is only a weekend or vacationhome. These homesteads are forpeople who delight in watching themoon rise over purpled hills, for thosewho would call the stars by name, andwho love the peace that is found onlyin remote places.

When rumors were circulated re-cently that drastic changes were to bemade in the operation of the SmallTracts Act, the Desert Magazine senta letter to the Department of Interiorin Washington inquiring about pos-sible revisions. In his reply, DirectorWoozley wrote: "No changes in theregulations are contemplated whichwill in any way prevent the publicfrom obtaining public lands which areadaptable to and classified for smalltracts . . . no changes contemplatedthat will reduce the effectiveness of

the Act and the benefits it providesto the people interested in thesetracts . . ."This is reassuring to the Art Kurthsan d the Mariana Ranchosand to the

many other Americans like them whosooner or later will have the time andopportunity to build their own cabinsand become members of that growingfraternity of jackrabbit homesteaders.

WHERE TO APPLYFollowing are the locations of theU. S. Bureau of Land Management inthe southwestern states:Southern California, as far northas Tulare and San Luis Obispo coun-ties, U. S. District Land Office, Post-office building, Los Angeles.Northern California; U. S. DistrictLand Office, Sacramento.Arizona: U. S. District Land Office,Phoenix.Nevada: U. S. District Land Office,Reno.Utah: U. S. District Land Office,Salt Lake City.New Mexico: U. S. District LandOffice, Santa Fe.

D e s e r t Q u iz Desert's monthly quiz is for folks who livein a big worlda world that includes geog-raphy, botany, mineralogy, history and thelore of the Southwestern country. It is seldom that anyone gets a perfectscore, but most of the Quiz fans learn some new facts about their desertevery month. Twelve to 14 is a fair score, 15 to 17 is good, 18 or over istops. Theanswers are on page 21.1Tallest cactus growing on the Great American Desert in the UnitedStates isC holla Bisnaga . Organ Pipe .. Saguaro .2Before the white man brought soap to the Southwest the Indians, forcleansing, used Minerals . Yucca roots . Mesquiteleaves . Nothing3The settlement of Shoshone in Death Valley derived its name fromAn early day trapper A species of desert tree . A min-eral found in that locality . A tribe of Indians. . .4Guide for the first party of white men to see Rainbow Bridge wasKit Carson . John Wetherill . Bill Williams . JohnWesley Powell5Morro Rock in NewMexico wasmade a National Monument mainlybecause of itsOdd shape . . Historical inscriptions . ItsIndian taboo Its unusual geology6If you were planning a trip to the La Sal Mountains you would go toUtah .._ . New Mexico . Arizona . Nevada7Going by the most direct route from Tucson, Arizona, to Guaymas,Sonora, you would pass through the port of entry atEl PasoSan Lu is....... . Nogales Douglas _.8Stalactites and stalagmites often found in caves generally are ofQuartz. . Limestone Feldspar . Lava9The leases now granted by the U. S. Land Office to Jackrabbit Home-steaders generally are forOne year . Two years Threeyears ... . Five years10One of the following is not a painter of desert landscapesJohnHi l ton . . Oren Arnold . Clyde Forsythe . Jimmy Swin-nerton . ... .11Locale of the legendary Breyfogle lost mine is inThe great SaltDesert of Utah Southern Arizona . Death ValleyMonument Valley12Malachite most likely would be found in aTin mine . Ironmine . Goldmine Coppermine ._..13Lincoln County, New Mexico, was given a conspicuous place in thehistory of the Southwest because ofThe escapades of Billy the

Kid . The surrender of Geronimo .. . A discovery of dia-monds A raid byPancho Villa14The species of fish most often associated with Salton Sea areSeabass . . . . . Mullet Sardines . . Salmon .15Trail shrines still found along the old Indian trails of the Southwestare ofJuniper boughs. . . . Shells brought from the sea coastPalm fronds . Rocks .16The Indians who once claimed the delta of the Colorado as theirtribal lands wereDieguenos . Cahuillas . Cocopahs .Mojaves17The capital of Arizona isTucson ._... Phoenix PrescottFlorence18Wood most often used by the Hopi Indians in making their kachina

dolls isMesquite . Willow Ju nip er. Ironwood19Timpanogos Cave National Monument is inNew MexicoCalifornia Nevada Utah20Cameron, Arizona, is on the bank ofColorado River . LittleColorado River . Gila River Salt RiverDESERT MAGAZINE


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During the 85 years from 1869to 1954 the fast water boatm en wh orun the Colorado River and its trib-utaries have tried out many typesof craftwood, plywood, rubberand various kinds of metal . Thelatest is plastic fiber glassandit is standing the tests of rock-strewn river navigation in a man-nsr that promises well for the fu-ture. Here is the story of a tripthrough one of Utah's little knowncanyons in the new type of boa t s .pow ered with outboard motors.

By RANDALL HENDERSONMap by Margare t GerkeMajor John Wesley Pow-eH r a n the 40-odd rapids inthe Green River's DesolationCanyon in July, 1869, the water wasso rough and his wooden boat soclumsy that on one occasion he wastossed overboard and had to swim forhis life.

The water is still very rough in 97-mile-long Desolation Canyon, but dur-ing the 85 years since the Major pilotedhis historic expedition down the Greenand Colorado Rivers the men whonavigate white water streams havelearned much about boat design andmateriel.

Plywood, rubber and various typesof metal all have been given a trial.The latest, and according to manyrivermen, the most practicable ma-terial so far developed is plastic fiberglass.Last May I had the privilege of fol-lowing Powell's route through Deso-lation Canyon in one of the new fiberglass boats. We not only had a boatwhich was much lighter and better

streamlined than Powell's Emma Dean,but it had some other advantages. Ithad waterproof storage space for ourfood and bedding, and it was equippedwith a Big Twin Simplex Evinrudemotor25 horsepower.Above Much of the way, theGreen River in Desolation Canyonflows smoothly between deep canyonwalls.Center But there are many rapidswhere the boatmen have to picktheir way between boulders which

could bring disaster.Below When the propeller hits arock and a pin is sheared it takesbut a few minutes to repair thedamage.O C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4

B oatride in D esola t ion C an yon


10/44

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Don Harris andJack Brennan, aSalt Lake City team of boatmen whofor many years have been pilotingriver trips on theYampa, Green, SanJuan and Colorado Rivers, bought twoof theglass fiber boats from WizardBoats, Inc. , atCosta Mesa, California,and invited me to join them on theirfirst scheduled trip onthe Green Riverfrom Ouray toGreen River, Utah.Our rendezvous for the river tripwas at Ouray, a little settlement nearthe junction of the Duchesne andGreen Rivers. On the east side of theGreen atthis point isthe Uintah-OurayIndian reservation where three tribesof the Utenation, theUintahs, Un-comphagres and Whiterivers have 384,-000 acresmostly desert.

In 1950 a federal court of claimsawarded the 1547 Indians onthis res-ervation, and a related tribe in Colo-rado, $31,761,206 tocompensate themfor lands and rights ofwhich they hadbeen deprived by the white men.

Fortunately for the Indians,pay-ment could not be made until Congressappropriated the money and set upprotective terms under control of thetribal council, and expenditures aresubject to approval by the IndianBureau.Although the greater part of thereservation is mountainous andarid,about 30,000 acres areunder irriga-tion, and the tribesmen have done verywell as stock-raisers andfarmers.Several families of the Indianscrossed thebridge at Ouray and as-sembled on the shore to watch theoperation ofpacking and launching theboats for thetr ip.

Here I met the Salt Lake City folkswho were tobe my companions on thevoyage down the river. Inaddition toDon Harris and Jack Brennan, theskippers, there were Dr. Leslie Whitean d his wife Rena and their threechildren: Mary Lou,a student in jun-ior college, Georgiana, in the eighthgrade, and Barry, aged 10. The ninthmember of the party was Harry Ishi-matsu, a Salt Lake postal clerk and aveteran of the U. S. Army in WorldW arII.

A third boat in theexpedition wasThe Adventurer, owned and piloted byAl Morton, with Dick Carman aspassenger. Al andDick areamateurphotographers, members of theCineArts Club of Salt Lake City.It was 11:30in themorning whenwe shoved off from a grassy bank

sheltered by aged cottonwoods. DonHarris, a hydrographer in theemployof the U. S. Geological Survey,wasin the lead. He estimated the riverwas flowing 20,000 second feet ofwater. May isthe month of high sea-sonal run-off from melting snow in10 DESERT MAGAZINE


11/44

Wyoming and Colorado and the Greenwas at much higher stage than normal.It is practicable to run this sectorof the Green in motorboats only whenthe river is high, for the rapids in theriver occur where tributary streamsdump huge boulders into the mainchanne l. At low stage, these boulders ,many of them submerged just belowthe surface of the water, can playhavoc with outboard motor propellers.Below Ouray, the Green flows be-tween drab a rid hills. It is easy tounderstand why Major Powell gavethe name Desolation Canyon to thissector.But the shore was lined with cotton-wood, willow, mesquite, tamarisk trees,and thickets of arrowweed, and thereare little valleys on the reservationside where the Utes run cattle. Ta m-

arisk, both salt cedar and the athelspecies, imported from Asia within thememory of the present generation ofAmericans, are now predominantshrubs along the Colorado and all itstributary streams. These invadersfrom the deserts of Asia and Africaevidently like their adopted home andthe salt cedar is threatening to crowdout some of the native shrubs.Five miles downstream we stoppedin the shade of cottonwoods for lunch.The temperature was 77 degrees. Beav-ers had been working on some of thetrees, and later as we continued down-stream we saw several of the animalson shore or swimming. The fur trap-pers of the last century nearly broughtextinction to the beavers along theColora do and its tributaries. But un-der legal protection the animals in re-cent years have been coming back.At mid-afternoon the hills beganclosing in, but we encountered norapids, or even riffles, that first day.Our average speed was 10 miles anhour. At 6:1 5 we pulled into a sandy

cove for overnight camp. We hadtraveled 46 miles the first day. Highwalls of rock flanked our campsite,and we were sure it would provideample shelter for a comfortable camp.Jack Brennan unpacked the culi-nary tools and prepared a deliciousdutch oven stew with fresh meat. Halfway through the meal a gust of windsent campfire sparks flying in all direc-tions and that was the forerunnerof a sandstorm which lasted throughmost of the night. It was such a bliz-zard that the Powell party encountered

on its Green River trip in 1869.George Y. Bradley of the Powell partydescribed in his notes the experience:"The sand from the beach buried ourbeds while that from an island belowfilled the air until the canyon was nocomfortable place for repose as one

Left to right Al Morton, Jack Brennan and Don Harris discussing a pos-sible route through the boulders choking the stream at Coal Creek Rapids.

had to cover his head to get hisbreath."We dug out the next morning nonethe worse for the experience exceptthat some members of the party didnot get much sleep.

It was overcast as we pulled out ofcamp at 8:45, and a mile downstreamwe ran into our first rough boatinga riffle that sprayed us with water but

involved no serious problems of navi-gation.It is very proper at this point to askthe question: "when does a riffle be-come a rapidwhere does one drawthe line?" I can only answer that Ihave ridden with many boatmen andno two of them have the same defini-tion. It is like trying to define the dif-ference between sprinkle and rain.

O C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4 1


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Members of the Desolation Canyon Expedition Above, Don Harris,Barry White, Harry Ishimatsn and Mary Lou White. Center Jack Bren-nan, Georgiana, Rena and Dr. Leslie While. BelowAlMorton and Dick Carman.Once I heard an old boatman remark:"If she's so rough she buried the boatit's a rapid . Th e rest of 'em are riffles."On the Green River as on all otherfast water streams one encounters allgradations of turbulent water, from atiny series of waves that barely rockthe boat to giant breakers which al-most stand the craft on end.

One can get just as wet in a riffleas in a rapid of cascade proportions.The worst ducking I ever had waswhen riding the stern deck of a cata-ract boat with Norman Nevillsin aninsignificant riffle on the ColoradoRiver below Lava Falls.

The water became increasinglyrough after we passed that first riffle

and then it began to rain, cold bit-ing rain that chilled us through. Thereis no shelter on these river boats. Onejust sits there and takes it. Th en weheard the roar of the first major rapid,and when skipper Don Harris decidedto go ashore and look this one overbefore running it we were all gratefulfor the opportunity to build a fire andthaw out.The rain stopped, and as we werehuddled around the flames a bigbrown bear ambled down to the op-posite shore. Evidently it intended toswim across, but when it saw us itturned upstream along the bank andcrossed a half mile above. The ph o-tographers in the party bemoaned thefact that a dark overcast sky preventedthem from getting good pictures.

The boatmen ran the rapids with-out difficulty, some of the party ridingthrough and others hiking along theshore to be picked up below.An hour later we landed at themouth of Rock Creek, the only clearwater tributary we encountered on thejourney. We used river water for cook-ing most of the time, settled it over-night for drinking purposes. At RockCreek we refilled our canteens andhad lunch on some convenient rockboulders.During the afternoon we ran one

rapid after another. The canyon wallshad closed in and much of the timewe were riding between cliffs thatrose from 1200 to 2000 feet on bothsides of us. The gray coloring of theupper canyon had given way to manyshades of brown, and great pilastersof chocolate-colored stonethe sculp-turing of erosiongave architecturalbeauty to the canyon walls. The lowersector of Desolation Canyon deservesa more fitting name than was givenit by Powell.We camped that night on a sandbar

island w here th ere were plenty ofdead willows for firewood. Th eweather had cleared, and it was a de-lightful spot. Jack broiled our steaksover an open fire while he used thedutch oven to make apricot dumplings a really fancy d inner for a crew ofriver voyagers over 50 miles from thenearest dining room.At the upper end of the island wasa beach of large size pebbles and Ifound a few good specimens of agate,jasper and obsidian among the softerrocks.

We embarked the next morningat 8:30 and an hour later came to themost vicious looking rapids of thetrip at Coal Creek. The boatm enspent some time studying a possibleroute through the huge boulders whichcluttered the stream and then ran12 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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through with no more serious difficul-ty than a sheared pin in the propel-ler shaft of Jack 's boat. This was thefourth pin we had to replace during theriver journey.The m akers of outboard 'motorshave built well for this kind of navi-gation. It is almost inevitable that apropeller will hit submerged rocks insuch rapids. Th e pin which holds theblad e on its shaft >s m ad e of soft m etalso it will give way before damage isdone to the propeller. Also , themotors are hinged to the boat so theycan be tilted clear of the water withlittle ma nu al effort. W hen a pinshears off, the boatman resorts to hisoars and pulls to shore where it takesbut a few minutes to make a replace-ment.The pilots who run boats throughthis kind of water are all "cheaters."They brag ab out it . The idea is to ridethe tongue of the rapid until it breadsinto turbulent waves, and then pullhard to one side or the other and avoidthe high combers directly below. Themore they cheat the less hazard thereis to the boat and the passengers. Onthis trip I learned that a boatman witha 25-horsepower motor on the sternof his craft can do a better job ofcheating than one who has only hisoars to keep him out of trouble.When the water is high and the pas-sengers want to get through the diffi-cult places as quickly and safely aspossible, the motorboat has its advan-tages. But an outboard motor isworse than useless in a low river whenthe channel is strewn with visible andsubmerged rocks.Those who have the time and desireto run the rapids for the pure adven-ture of it will continue to use rowboatsperhaps of fiber glass, but poweredonly with oars. For th ere is a thrill inbucking those treacherous rapids withmuscle and skill, which the boatmen

and passengers on motor - poweredboats can never know.Don Harri, and Jack Brennan wereboatmen long before outboard motorswere brought to the rapids of tneGreen and Colorado Rivers and theyknow how to take the rapids witnei ther motorpower or manpower.It was in this sector of the river thatMajor Powell was thrown overboard.George Y. Bradley described the in-cident in his journal: "July 11, 1869.Sunday again and Major has got hismatch, for in attempting to run a rapidhis boat swamped, lost all his bedding,one barometer and two valuable rifleswhich we could ill affoid to lose as itleaves but seven rifles in the outfit andwe may meet Indians who think ouirations are worth a fight, though if

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The day's good turn rescuing a stray sheep that hadbecome mired in quicksand.they try it they will find them dearrations. The rapid is not so bad assome we have run but they shipped aneavy sea at the start which made

their boat unmanageable and she roll-ed over and over, turning everythingout. Major had to leave the boat andswim to land as he has but one armO C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4 13


14/44

an d her constant turning over made itimpossible for him to hold onto herwith one hand, and the other two(Jack and Dunn) brought the boat inbelow safe with the losses stated andthe loss of our oars ."Our boats took the Coal Creek

rapids and another bad one at Rattle-snake Creek later in the morning with-out difficulty other than the shearingof a propeller pin. Then Don told usthe rough part of our journey wasover.We were now in Gray Canyonwhich merely is a continuation of Des-olation Canyon. Gray formerly wasknown as Coal Canyon because de-posits of coal were found near thestream.The vertical walls had given wayto open hill country and we werewithin an hour of ourdestination at theGreen River Dam at 11:30 in themorning when we saw a large sheepmired in the quicksand at the edge ofthe stream. It gave a plaintive ba-a-aas we rode past, and the boatmenpulled to shore below and we walkedback.The ewe really was in trouble. Itwas mired to its belly with no chanceof getting free without our help. Ourboatmen, fighting quicksand them-selves, spent a half hour extricating

the animal from its prison. Its legswere wobbly when they finally pulledit up on the dry bank, and it laydown with its head in the shade torecuperate. There was evidence thatlarge numbers of sheep had grazed inthe vicinity, but neither the herder norany others of the flock were seen.Our voyage ended at the GreenRiver diversion dam 10 miles up-stream from the town of the samename. Trailers were waiting to ferryboats and passengers back to Salt

Lake City.Thanks to the design and stabilityof these glass fiber boats, and to ex-perienced boatmen, it had been a safepleasant journey despite the sandstormand frequent wettings.If Echo Park and Split Mountaindams are built in Dinosaur NationalMonument upstream from Ouray, asis recommended by the Secretary ofInterior, the famed rapids of LodoreCanyon will be submerged in a greatreservoir, and in that event the Deso-

lation Canyon trip probably will gainpopularity among white water boat-men as an alternative trip. For Deso-lation Canyon, despite its forbiddingname, has both fast water and sceniccharm.

A N I N V I T A T I O N F R O M D E A T H V A L L E Y 4 9 e r s . . .Plans are now in the making for thefour-day program to be staged in DeathValley in Novemberthe 6th annualencampment of the Death Valley'49ers.Following the precedent of previousyears, thousands of motorists from allover the West are expected to gatherat the oases in Death Valley to takepart in or be entertained by the variedprogram of exhibits and activitieswhich a score of committees are pre-paring.This year's program is to start onThursday which is Veterans' Day(formerly Armistice Day), November11 and continue through the weekend.The Death Valley '49ers is an in-formal organization, a non-profit cor-poration formed to cooperate with theNational Park Service in furthering thedevelopment of Death Valley as a his-torical shrine. Membership in the or-ganization is open to all who make acontribution to the financing of the an-nual encamp ment. After the expenses

are paid, surplus money goes into afund to be used eventually for thebuilding of a museum in Death Valley.There are no admission charges toany of the events in the encampmentprogrambut all those whoattend areinvited to participate to the extent ofmembership in the organization. Thefollowing types of membership areavailable:Active membership .. $ 2.00Sustaining 5.00Patron 10.00Sponsor 25.00Life mem bership 100.00Those who would like to receive amembership card and carry a DeathValley '49er windshield sticker ontheir cars should send their member-ship fee to:Death Valley '49ers, Inc.501 Hall of Records, LosAngelesMembership cards and stickers alsoare available at the Desert Magazineoffice for those who will find it con-venient to call at the Palm DesertPueblo for that purpose.

P H O T O C O N T E S T . . . &*October is a month for pleasant excursions on the Grea t Amer icanDesert, an a u t u m n a l p a u s e b e t w e e n the f iery rays of summer sunsh inea n d the chill of winter, ft's an excellent month for pho tographer s torecord impressive deser t scenes wi th huge whi te c louds scuddingacross the sky or p e r h a p s to s n a p a pack rat (Neotoma) hustl ing asupp ly of t iny nuts, seeds and berr ies to its nest .It is a busy month when nature an d the deser t ' s people are pre-par ing for winter present ing myr iads of suitable subjects for the photocontest.Entries for the October contest must be in the Desert Magazineoffice. Palm Desert, California, by October 20, and the winning printswil l appear in the December issue. Pictures which arrive too late forone contest are held over for the next month . First prize is $10; second

prize $5.00. For non-winning pictures accepted for publication $3.00each w i ll be paid.HERE ARE THE RULES

1Prints for monthly contests must be black and white. 5x7 or larger, printedon glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplace . Also technical data: camera, shutter spee d, hour oi day, etc.3PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contestmonth.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional photographers. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only ofprize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7Judges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be madeimmediately after theclose of thecontest ea ch m onth.

Address All Entries to Photo Editor*DeA& tt THayajute PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA

14 DESERT MAGAZINE


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P I C T U R E SO F T H E M O N T HG R A N D M O T H E R O FW E P A I N T E D D E S E R T

This photograph of a Navajowoman and her granddaughtertaken in the Painted Desert ofnorthern Arizona with an AutoRollei camera, Plus X film atf. 16 in 1/250 second w asawarded first place in Desert'sPicture - of - the - Month contest inAugust. The photo wa s taken byL. R. Fantozzi of Ven ice, California.

S U N S E T O V E RB A D W A T E R

Second place in the Augustcontest was awarded to Nicho-las N. Kozloff of San Bernardino,California, for this picture takenat Badwater in Death Valley.The photo was taken with a4x5 Speed Graphic, SXX filmwith G filter at f. 16, time 1/25second.

15


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Gem Hill on the M o j a v e . . .Gem Hilt, on the Mojave Desert, as viewed from the first turn-off spur road thatcrosses the low pass (far left) between Gem Hill and the Rosamond Project.It wasn't until he turned rockhound a few years ago that retiredOilman Allen Davis began to appreciate the gem stone treasuresNature had stored up in his boyhood back yard, the Mojave Desertnear Rosamond, California. Now he and his wife. Fern, are making up

for lost time. Recently they directed Jay Ransom to one of their favoritehunting grounds, Rosamond's Gem Hill, repository of autunite andagatebanded, geode, gray and blueand an as yet unidentifiedmineral, a deep green radioactive cutting-grade stone which the author'smineralogist father calls "plasma agate."By JAY ELLIS RANSOMPhotos by the AuthorMap by Norton Allen

knob at the eastern end of a longvolcanic ridge in the heart of an ex-tensive mineralized region of aban-doned gold, silver, and copper mines.The most famous of these is the well-known Tropico Gold Mine, a bullionproducer since the early 1900s.From Rosamond at the junction ofthe Willow Springs Road and U.S.Highway 6, Ransom Senior and Idrove west 3.8 miles over smooth pave-

MANY YEARS a populargem hunting area less than 100miles from Los Angeles has beenknown to a few rock clubs and indi-vidual collectors as "Gem Hill." Lo-cated in the western Mojave Desertapproximately eight miles northwestof Rosamond, this tufaceous butte isstill one of the finest agate producersin the Mojave.Gem Hill rises as a low pointed

16

ment. At the crossing of the Tropico-Mojave Road, plainly marked by signposts, we turned north. About a milefrom the junction we passed the ex-tensive workings of the Tropico GoldMine. Corrugated steel buildings,housing the ore crushing stamps andwhat appeared to be a cyanide plant,slanted down the reddish face of abasaltic mountain to a tree-shadedcommunity at its foot. Known nowas the Burton Mine, the Tropico shutdown in September, 1953, after nearlya half century of continuous operation.Exploration, however, goes on, withthe hope that new ore bodies will bediscovered.

Continuing northward, around themine hill, we saw evidence of pastmining activity scattered over the rawdesert. Allen Davis, the genial rockenthusiast and member of PalmDesert, California's, Shadow MountainGem and Mineral Society who wasD E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


17/44

responsible for our visit to Gem Hill,had recalled that at the time his fatherwas foreman of the Tropico beforeWorld War I, many of these abandonedmines were simply stock sellingschemes. "Th ere were no laws thento prevent draining Eastern capitalistsof as much money as possible, evenby salting worthless holes with high-grade," he had told us. "My father,though, would have no truck with suchfly-by-nightcrs!"At mile 8.1, the road crested out ona low ridge, with Gem Hill risingsharply on our left beyond a low knoll.Fronting the highway, we saw recentexcavations in the form of two aditspenetrating into a straw-colored forma-tion for a short distanc e. A large sign-board proclaimed in vigorous termsthat these surface workings constituteda URANIUM MINE. The generalpublic was cordially invited to "ceaseand desist" taking away specimens!Here, then, was the Rosamond Proj-ect which made news a year or so agoin the Los Angeles newspapers when aflurry of uranium prospecting coveredthe Mojave Desert region. Actually, theuranium mine stands at the eastern ex-tremity of Gem Hill, connected withthe latter by a low. rocky saddle postedwith signs warnin g of blasting. Itsgeology is interesting, and the infor-mation which Government geologistsicarned at the uranium prospect pro-vides a curious sidelight on some ofGem Hill 's most lustrous cabinet spe-cimens.

The uranium workings proved to betoo low grade for commercial exploita-tion. No m ining is going on, and vis-itors can feel free to look around. Westopped, of course, intrigued by thelight colored tufaceous rocks whichcrop out all around the gem stonearea. Und erlying the light strata iseroded quartz monzonite and pegmatiteof late Me sozoic age. It is proba blythe pegmatite occurrence that accountsfor the variety of gem stones whichcollectors have gathered in this area.California is particularly noted for itspegmatite gem producing districts, andboth Ransom Senior and I werepleased that the Mojave Desert wasnot without similar promising outcrops.

Including Gem Hill in the Rosa-mond Project, the area is locally re-ferred to as the Soledad, Rosamond,or Mojave m ining district. It com-prises a fairly large portion of the des-ert and was best known in former yearsfor its production of gold and silver.In looking over some of the minedumps within a few miles of Gem Hill,it was evident to us that these preciousmetals occurred with base metal sul-fides in a series of quartz veins cuttingdacite flows and plugs. Of particular

Above Tropico gold mine between Rosamond and Gem Hill. William/ / . Davis, Father of Allen Davis, the author's guide, was the foremanresponsible for much of the mine's production record.Below Uranium adits of the Rosam ond Project. Radioactive an d gemstone minerals occur in the light colored tufaceous rock.

interest to the Government geologistswho surveyed the Project was the oc-currence of secondary uranium min-erals as coatings on fractures and asdisseminations in the light coloredsedimentary rocks adjacent to GemHill's pegmatite outcrops.On the gem stone knob proper,both my father and I picked up someunusually beautiful specimens which

defied our analysis. Of special interestto rock collectors looking over thearea is the waxy, reddish-brown toblack radioactive mineral which wefound on the north slopes of the peak.Neither Ransom Senior nor I couldidentify this mineral, nor an apparentlyrelated deep green waxy stone whichfor want of another name, my fathertermed "plasma agate." This is one

O C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4 17


18/44

7 0 U.S.HWY. 6 MOJAVE

Gloster

vrccfWM'P f-c: - > - r ^ m m r m

TO LANCASTER S LO S ANGELES

of the most beautiful minerals wepicked up in the area, and curiouslyenough it is quite radioactive. Late r,in reading over the geological reportsof the uranium mine, I was pleased tonote that the geologists referred tothis gem stone material as an "un-known" mineral! This unidentifiedrock occurs in the volcanic tuffs alongwith small quantities of autunitehy-drous uranium and calcium phosphateand variously colored varieties ofagate.The most obvious uranium ore thatwe found while looking for agate wasthe familiar lemon-yellow autunite, amineral often found in pegmatite.Spe-cimens fluoresce brilliantly under blacklight, andcollectors can find nice piecesby hunting after dark. How ever, ofmore than passing interest is the factthat the plasma agatefound in con-siderable abundanceis more highly

radioactive than can be accounted forby the small amount of autunite pres-ent in the district!Wanting to explore this fascinatinggem hunting ground more thoroughly,we zeroed our speedometer again, ahundred yards north of the uraniummine where a good dirt road turnswest through typical Mojave Desertcountry along the flanks of GemHill.The high volcanic ridge culminatingin the pegmatitic hill stretches due west,with the road following along its basefor many more miles than we had timeto travel.Driving 0.4 mile to where a forkbranched to the left, weclimbed gradu-ally through greasewood and cactus upthe northeast flank of the mountain.This road crosses the saddle betweenthe main butte and the uranium knoll.Five hundred feet of easy grade broughtus to a slanting, rocky parking area

surrounded by several rock fire-ringswhere collectors mayhave camped.Getting out of the car, we lookedaround critically. Obviously, a greatmany rock collectors had been therebefore us. At least, as far as thisparticular spot is concerned, it hadbeen worked out. All we found washammer-hounded trash and worthlesschert. We picked up some black agatefloat, but did not attempt to follow itup. With fingers crossed, we returnedto the car and went back to the maindirt road.

Continuing west an additional tenthof a mile we came to a short stub roadstriking abruptly south toward thecenter of Gem Hill's north side. Atth e end of this climbing spuraboul500 feetwe "struck it rich," gemo-logically speaking. I backed the carinto the rough to turn around, andwe got out to find ourselves in themidst of a rather large area of somereally good gem stone hunting. Manyrockhounds had preceded us, bui:nevertheless, we picked up a dozenpounds of assorted agates, hardly mov-ing out of our tracks. The agatescame in various typesbanded, geode,gray and blue. Some were intricatelystriped with carnelian.

I t was here that we found an abun-dance of the deep-green radioactiveplasma agate, some with color vergingon black. Because of its texture andweight, this unidentified mineral makesgood cutting material. Scattered amongthe stunted creosote bushes we alsofound a lot of light green chert.

Although there was good huntingover several acres, here on the northslopes of GemHill, we filled our spe-cimen bags from an area about 20feet square. Ransom Senior liked thegreen plasma agate best, its colordarker than jade. I found its relatedred, green and brown mixed varietiesas attractive. All of it holds promiseof taking a high polish.Pausing to look over the field gen-erally, I was interested in the growtiiof sparse coarse grass that allowsranchers to run a few head of cattleon the desert floor. Most of the ob-vious vegetation consisted of creosotebushes and squaw tea. Legend has itthat early day prospectors used thepale dry twigs of this bush, steeped inhot water, as a cure-all.The vista afforded by the rise ofour road showed a long narrow armof the Mojave Desert extending eastand west for 20 miles or more. Risingsharp and jagged to an impressiveheight in the northwest stood theTehachapi Mountains, a center of re-cent Southern California earthquakes,gashed byragged gorges and buttressedby sheer granite cliffs. Ac ross the in-

18 DESERT MAGAZINE


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tervening flats, twisted Joshua treesraised their gaunt spiny arms at infre-quent intervals. Aro und us, we iden-tified needle-sharp agave and an oc-casional nolina, bare stalks six to eightfeet tall, like withered staves thrust intothe raw earth. Indian women oncewove the stiff fibers of the dagger-sharp leaves into utility baskets.This area is anything but a vastwasteland its first appearance mightprese nt. Th e observing traveler findsmany interesting things to occupy hisattention, even though he may not beespecially trained in botany or zoology.Creosote is widespread and often dom-inates the landscape.Between the larger plants, afterwinter rains, the desert floor in manyplaces is literally carpeted with smallannual plants that bear brilliantly col-ored flowers. The seeds are dormantuntil moisture falls.Also there is an abundance of ani-mals. Rodents of many kinds arepresent, though seldom seen. Kan -garoo rat holes can be seen everyplace.Cottontail and jack rabbits are themost common mammals seen and coy-otes roam the area, usually a safe dis-stance from humans. Every bushseems to be the hiding place of alizard.This, then, wa > collecting groundN o. 1. Deciding to see how far themineralized area extended, we returnedto the main dirt road and headed intothe declining sun, commenting on thebrilliant gold and mauve cloudlets rid-ing the crest of the Tehacha pis. Al-though the road is desert sand, con-stant local travel has kept the wheeltracks well packed and collectors neednot fear getting bogged down.

The next turn-off was about a halfmile from the paved highway, andagain a branch road forked towardthe volcanic ridge, winding over theflats. Th ree-ten ths of a mile in broug htus to another fork in the center of afrequently used campground. Shelteredin a bight of Gem Hill's western flank,the camping area was comfortable,though waterless. The numbers ofcampers who have poked around inthe vicinity indicated to us that thisspot must be gem hunting area No. 2,and indeed specimens are found all upand down the west side of the butte.Getting out of the car again, wedidn't have to look far to find our firstgem stonea huge, jasper-red, partlyburied agate boulder. I noted that a

ereat deal of elbow grease had alreadybeen expended trying to unearth it.obviously in vain. We estimated itsweight at 2000 pounds.Finally, when we had filled newsample bags, we turned reluctantly-back toward the highw ay. Fa r in the

west, sunlight glinted like burnishedcopper where a distant high tensionline angled between widely spacedranches and abandoned mines. Closerat hand, an old mine beckoned to usfrom across the flats.This desolate yet hauntingly beauti-ful western part of the Mojave Desertappealed to me. Perhaps it was theblue, lazy Dec emb er day. Or it mighthave been because we had come hereat the behest ol ",r.e of its own sonsAllen Davis.Allen Davis is, at 62, a genial, re-tired business man. Born in Bakers-field, California, he spent most of hisearly boyhood in the great gold campof Rand sburg. During his early schoolyears he lived at Willow Springs andin Rusamond while his miner fatherworked as foreman of the TropicoMine. This mine was opened only afew years before World War I, andthe elder Davis was responsible formost of the development work thatmade it a great producer for its owner,V. V. Cochrane.In those hectic years nobody gavea thought to gem stones. Agates, crys-tals, geodes, nodules and all such des-ert oddments were simply kicked outof the way as worthless rock.Between school sessions ir. WillowSprings, the boy Allen used to hikeback of town to steep volcanic bluffs.

There, in early times. Mojave Indiansleft thousands of arrowheads in thesand at the base of the cliffs, crudelychipped pieces of the chert commonlyfound over so much of the surround-ing desert. Quite possibly the WillowSprings bluffs provided a natural sup-ply house for a particularly desirablechert easily chipped into arrow points.At any rate, Allen accumulated a goodcollection of prehistoric spear and ar-row tips. No doubt, later comers stillcan find arrowheads in the same p laces.Because Allen's father was a good

example of how not to make moneyin gold mining, the boy elected not totry his hand seriously at his father'sprofession. He had an astute apprec ia-tion of certain side-line practices, how-ever. Although he couldn't interesthimself in mining, Allen early recog-nized gold amalgam as a source ofwealth. The old mines of the desertregion were characterized by rusted,abandoned machinery, broken downstamps and worn-out amalgam platesover which quicksilver had flowed todissolve metallic gold from crushedore. Someho w, when the last cleanupwas made before shutting down themines forever, the workmen forgot toscrape off the amalgam adhering tothe plates. Whenever Allen's dad tookover a lease on an abandoned claim,his son got "first dibs" on the rusted

Allen Davis of Palm Desert, Cali-fornia, spent part of his boyhood inthe Rosam ond area. Recently turnedrockhound , it was he who directedthe author to Rosam ond's Gem Hill.plates, cracking off the dirt-encrustedamalgam and selling it. "I mad e asmuch as $500 out of each of Dad'sclaims," he explained to me, smilingat the memory, "even with gold sellingat $21 an ounce and the buyers cheat-ing me out of my eye teeth in thebargain."Allen Davis eventually started hisown business following the discov-ery of oil in the great fields ofTaft and McKittrick in Kern County.For outdoor sports he became a troutfisherman and until his retirement lastyear spent many hours seeking thefinned denisons of the Sierra. Now hisinterests have turned to collectingbeautiful rocks and cutting and polish-them into glowing gems."I didn't know what delightful funrock collecting could be," he said, "younever know what might be on theother side of the mountain."It took Allen Davis 50 years tomake the acquaintance of Gem Hilland its fascinating gem stones right inhis own back yard, covered with rockshe had always considered worthlessdesert debris. Today, Allen and hiswife Fern are doing a lot of makingup for lost time.

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L I F E O i l T E E D E S E R T I t was a g r a n d adventure for the Indian boys on thebasketball teambut not so much fun for the tenderfootteacher who went along as chaperon.HADN'T BEEN long at Toad-lena, New Mexico, before 1learned that teachers at the Nav-ajo school there often doubled aschaperons.

The first snow of middle autumn layheavy and wet on the ground, andstorm clouds still hovered over thedesert below. It was Saturday m orn-ing, and I was walking from the em-ployes' club to the classroom at themain school building, expecting to planlessons for the coming week, when Mr.Wahlenberg, the principal, hailed me."Miss Douglas," he called, "howwould you like to take the boys' bas-ketball team to play in the tournamenttoday at Farmington?"

I gazed doubtfully across the desert.The upper outline of Bennett 's Peakcould barely be seen hovering like aghost in the thick atmosphere. TableMesa and the end of Beautiful Moun-tain were entirely obsc ured. It wasno fair day for a journey, even for aseasoned desert traveler. And I wasa tenderfoot. Farming ton was 75 milesawaynot far in that land of magnifi-cent distances, but quite a distance tomy Middle Western mind.The principal seemed to read mythoughts. "You don't have to go ifyou don't want to," he said. "But M r.Cook can't be spared to make the tripand no other driver is available."I remembered that I was a new em-ploye, that I was on probation, andthat above everything I wanted tomake good. "I 'll go," I answered."The truck will be in front of theBo ys' Building in half an hour. Besure and dress warmly," he cautionedme.I returned to my room and changedto my warmest clothing, then went tothe Boys' Building where the pick-uptruck was waiting. Mr. Cook ap-proached with the basketball teamstalking behind him. When I agreedto become skipper of the expedition.I had not greatly considered my crew.Now I looked at them in dismay seven tall youths swathed in armyblankets up to the chin, muttering inNavajo among themselves.I said to M r. Co ok: "I do hopethere is a spare tire, and all the tools

are in, and that these boys can helpif we have to change a tire." I hopedthat I didn't sound as weak and un-certain as I felt. I had visions of mycharges vanishing in four directions ifthat truck e\ser stopped."Everything 's in good shape. I saw

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS AYLWARDto it myself," reassured Mr. Cook.Turning to the boys he said: "climbin behind. Hen ry Ford , ride in frontwith Miss Dou glas." Turning againto me he explained: "He nry's fatherhas a truck. Hen ry unde rstand s a littlebit about driving and can maybe helpyou out some if necessa ry. We ll, solong, and good luck."

He turned and reentered the build-ing. The responsibility was now mine.I backed the truck out, turned, and westarted down the slippery road to Nava.I kept the car in low gear most of theway, proceeding slowly, and we ar-rived at the graveled highway withoutmishap. I drew a big sigh of relief,for I had dreaded the first lap of thejourney with its dips, washes, and sand.I stole a glance to the rear and sawthat the boys were still present. HenryFord sat impassive beside me. He wasa remarkably handsome boy of per-haps eighteen, with clear, compara-tively light complexion, ruddy cheeksand a pleasant expression. He was inthe first grade at schoolnot by rea-son of mental deficiency but becausehis parents had not seen fit to bringhim to school at an earlier date.

We sped along Highway 666 mileafter mile. It was necessary to ma in-tain some speed in order to avoid jar-ring the daylights out of my passengerson the highway's corrugated surface.Soon Bennett 's Peak and Ford's Peaklay behind us. We crossed NosteeWash bordered on either side withbare cottonwoods. Table Mesa loomedup as a dark cloud closed in rapidly.At Castle Rock, notorious among theNavajo as a dwelling place of manydevils, the storm struck. In a momen tthe windshield was plastered withheavy, wet, wind-driven snow, andvisibility was zero.

Henry Ford motioned vaguely withhis hand s. I stopped the truck, reachedaround in front, rubbed off the accu-mulated snow and proceeded all of tenfeet before the windshield was coveredas before. I stopped again. "H enr y,"I said, "somebody must keep the wind-shield clear while I drive. (The ancienttruck boasted no windshield wiper.)Tell two of the boys to stand on therunningboard on each side and wipethe snow away. Do you understand?"Whether thanks were due to Henry'sfirst-grade English or to his commonsense, I could never know, but henodded and crawled out of the truck.A short consultation in Navajo fol-lowed. In a mom ent Henry resumed

his seat beside me, and the blanketedforms of Calvin and Luke took theirplaces on either side, facing the stormwhile their brown hands busily brushedaside the snow. We inched along. Attimes the driving snow was so thick Icould barely see a yard in front of theradiato r cap. It was a miracle that westayed on the road. At length thestorm diminished, then finally ceased.I stopped while Calvin and Luke driedtheir wet hands and returned to theirseats in the back. We were now nearthe Red Rock trail and approachingShiprock.

I glanced at my watch. The stormhad delayed us so much that it wasnow well past the noon ho ur. We wereto have stopped at Shiprock for lunch,but now we dared not stop if we wereto reach Farmington in time for thetournament. Beyond the reservation,on the other side of Shiprock, we raninto mud and road construction, butthe way was mostly downhill. Wepulled on. I tried not to think howdifficult the return would be.

We reached the Farmington gym-nasium at a quarter of two, with thegames scheduled to start at two o'clock.I turned the boys over to the Farm-ington coach and found a seat in thebalcony to watch the play. Even theShiprcc'.; team had not come on ac-count of the storm, the coach said.The Toadlena boys did not win, butthey played a good game in spite ofthe hunger, cold, and exposure theyhad undergone. Being Navajo, theyprobably counted what they had en-dured as a very minor inconvenience.

After the game was over and theboys were back in the truck, my re-sponsibility again began to weigh medow n. At length I hit upon a solution.I drove slowly down the long hill fromthe high school to the main street, andstopped before a restauran t. "Comeboys," I said, "hot dogs and coffeefor you." They followed me grinninginto the restaurant and I motioned forthem to sit in a large booth . Th e pro -prietor looked somewhat aghast at hisguests, but after I explained to himthat they were a hungry ball team hereadily complied with my orde r. Soonthe boys were busy with sandwiches,pie and coffee, and I calculated thesewould keep them occupied and in placefor some time.I paid the bill and slipped out, goingquickly to a garage a few doors away.I remembered how we went throughthe mud back in Missouri and hoped

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the same method would work in NewMex ico. I ordered a pair of chains forthe truck, to be put on immediately,charging them to the Indian agency. Iwas pleased with having concludedthat important business, and judgingthat the boys would soon be througheating I went back to the restaurant.Soon the boys came out, their gazewandering up and down the street.

"We must go back now," I said, andthe lads climbed willingly enough backto their places and settled down amongtheir blankets. Henry Ford took hisseat beside me. I started the truck andwe were on our way . W hat a relief tohave been able to hold that group ofwild young Navajos together and beon the homeward journey with thenumber intact!The chains helped and we proceeded

satisfactorily, although slowly. Finallythe last long hogback, the steepest,muddiest hill we had encountered, re-mained between us and gravel road onthe reserv ation. I took as muc h of arun for it as possible but did not gathersufficient momentum to carry usthrough the clinging mud that draggedat the wheels. Power and speed rapidlydecreased as we pulled the incline. Thecar almost stopped. Henry Ford mo-tioned mutely tow ard the gearshift. Iquickly put the car into low gear andit slowly wallowed on through the mud,gaining power and speed. Then wewere at the top. I realized with glad-ness that we were over the worst partof our road, shifted gears and spedioyously along the reservation highwaytoward home.We had gone a mile or so when Ifelt a pull at my sleeve. I knew H enrywas not being familiar for, as a rule,the Navajo consider Bellicana womenunattractive. I pretended no t to notice.There was another more insistentpull on my sleeve. Puzzled I glancedat Hen ry. Concern was on his smoothbrown face. He pointed to the backand opened his lips. The words cameone bv one, from the depths of hiscareful, first-grade English, to makeme understand: "Where aretheboys? Wherearetheboys?"This was it. The thing I had beendreading all through the trip. The rearof the truck was emptynary boy norblanket. Even now they were scat-tered over the desert in all directions,I feared, each bound for his familyhogan.Heartsick, [ turned the car aroundand started back toward Farmington.I would at least see if any stragglerswere still in sight. I had gloom y vis-ions of my auick return to Missouriin disgrace when this became known.Th e car topped a small rise. Wo uld

wonders never cease? Runn ing up theroad toward us in a compact group,blankets flying in the wind, were allthe boys. They w ere as glad to see thetruck coming back as I was to set eyesagain on them."We think you run off and leaveus," Luke said accusingly. It appeared

that on the last hard hill, when pullingthrough the mud became most difficult,the boys had slipped off the car to push,and great was their consternation tosee the truck go on without them. Theywere faithfully coming back to school

Jay Ellis Ransom, author of thismonth's Desert Magazine field trip toRosamond, California, was recentlyappointed staff journalist to the fourthUniversity of Michigan scientific re-search expedition to the Aleutian Is-lands. Ransom has a speaking ac-quaintance with Aleut-Eskimo and willalso serve the party as linguist."We will be working westward fromKodiak doing archeological excava-tions in various islands, and part ofthe expedition will go into the Arcticaround Kotzebue and Point Barrow

to do dental work for the Eskimos,"he explains. After the expedition com-pletes its work, Ransom will accom-pany the group's ethnobotanist on aside trip to the Alaskan interior.Ransom also has been appointed tothe Board of Directors of the newlyincorporated Institute for RegionalExploration which is carrying on abroad program of anthropological,DESERT QUIZ ANSWERS

Questions are on page 81Saguaro cactus.2Yucca roots.3A tribe of Indians.4John Wetherill.5Historical inscriptions.6Utah.7Nogales.8Limestone.9Three years.10Oren Arnold is a writer.IIDeath Valley.12Copper mine.13The escapades of Billy the Kid.14Mullet.

15-Rocks.16Cocopahs.17Phoenix.18Willow.19Utah.20Little Colorado River.

in the only way that remain ed. I didnot tell what 1 had been thinking.We stopped at Shiprock for the boysto eat supper, then proceeded to Toad-lena. After darkness had fallen, theroads had frozen, and the stars shonein cold brilliance. He nry sat silent be-side me, and the boys whiled away themiles chanting Navajo songs. Wereached home without further misad-venture.I had worried needlessly, and itserved me right that the boys had re-garded me as the runaway.archeological and linguistic studies,with headquarters at the University ofMichigan, Ann Arbor, and Unalaska,Alaska. * * *Dorothy Douglas Aylward, thismonth's Life-on-the-Desert author, en-tered the Indian Service in 1930, abachelor of arts degree from the Uni-versity of Missouri under her arm andseveral terms of rural teaching experi-ence to her credit. He r first assignm entwas to Toadlena, New Mexico, on theNavajo reservation. She relates oneof the experiences of her seven-yearstay there in her story.

In the fall of 1937, Mrs. Aylwardwas transferred to the Indian schoolat Pipeston e, Min nesota. She left theservice in 1941, and was married. She,her husband Paul and their 10-year-oldson live on her grandfather's farm innortheastern Missouri.* * *Margaret Gerke, associate editor ofDesert the past two years, resigned herposition late in August to devote hertime to free lance writing and art work.She is now making her home in SanFrancisco . Am ong her many fineachievements during her associationwith the Desert Magazine staff was theart work and the format design forJohn D. Mitchell 's Lost Mines andBuried Treasures, which has been inpopular demand since it was published

a year ago. * * *Catherine Venn Peterson, author of"Five Acres of Desert Freedom,"gained her first-hand knowledge ofjackrabbit homestcading the hard, andsatisfying w ay. Six years ago she filedon a 5-acre tract in Section 36 at thebase of the Santa Rosa Mountains inRiverside County, and later wroteabout her experiences in a series ofarticles for Desert Magazine.Catherine left a well-paying job and

her "squirrel cage" in Los Angeles forher desert home stead. She soon be-came intimately acquainted with thedesert, its animals and plants, freedomand quiet. Thoug h she long ago re-turned to her job, she still spends,many happy days on the desert.O C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4 21


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Photograph of Jerome in June, 1954.A DESERT NIGHT

By JACK POSSAntelope Valley. CaliforniaIt happened on a starlit night, beside aYucca tree.When all the joy in this bigworld, enthralledthe heart of me.Near, cactus bloomed with incense rare, andtender was the night.For, I was caught in mellow mist, a web ofsheer delight.Deep stillness, only broken by the cricket'sclick-clack sound;Made everything so wonderful my heartbegan to pound.Yes, I was truly happy in this most heavenlyplace.And 1 was held by tenderness; within thenight's embrace.A friendly moon reached down to me, 1felt a kind of bliss.And all the worries of this world seemed tohave gone amiss.Then, as I turned to journey home, I knewthat all was right;For I had just been privileged to embraceGod's desert night.

VEILED BEAUTYBy JUNE WILDMAN LELANDRiverside, CaliforniaThe desert hides a lovely secret faceAll veiled in gray and dun for passers by.Within my bus my seatmate wonders "WhyShould any soul prefer this dreary place?"

The chaparral has mauve and coral tints;The bold mesquite may shade a primroseflower.Above the plain the \u;ca's candles tower;Roadrunners in loose sand have left theirprints.The covers of a book are not a gaugeOf lore within: the desert, like a bookWaits to be read. No traveler's quick lookBeholds the beauty of her hidden page.

FOREFATHERSBy ELSIE MCKINNON STRACHANSanta Ana, CaliforniaBecause they trekked uncharted trailsWith faith for map and guide.Because their wagons forded depths,Alien and untried.

Bv CONSTANCE WALKERLos Angeles, CaliforniaSilence claims the mining town,Empty street and shuttered home,Rusting car and splintered beamMark the fabulous Jerome.

Once the Mingus mountainsideWas a hive of copper ore,Where the hardy came to swarmThrough an open tunnel door.Yet the idle yawning shaft,Past the pit of gleaming shale,Whispers of a hidden lodeFo i a future miner's pail.

THE PIED PIPERESSBy GRACE PARSONS HARMONDesert Hot Springs, CaliforniaDesert Spring is a light-hearted damsel,Not a care 'neath her wind-blown crown!Here, she snatches a clowd from the hill topTo style her a dancing gown;There, she riffles a bloom from a cactusTo star on a sotol frond,Then she dances away to a meadowlark'snoteMaking magic at touch of her wand!A light-hearted siren, spreading beauty andlaughter.She calls and the flowers come rollickingafter!

SPRING. THE GREAT ARTISTBy GEORGIA JORDANSan Diego, CaliforniaWith brush and pallette in her hand,She touched the barren desert landAnd rainbows blossomed on the sand.

Because they conquered rugged heights.Knew days of thirst and dustYet never failed to offer thanksNor faltered in their trust.They came at last to this wide west,To till the frontier loam,To plant and love this sun-rich land,That I might call it home.

By TANYA SOUTHLite is so full of lesser lights.Of lesser gods, and lesser rights,And lesser problems all the way,And lesser happenings each day.And lesser souls upon the Path,Struggling, with all too little Faith.Oh, lesser Tide, you are the greatFull force of Fate!

DESERT ENCHANTMENTBy EVA L. ROBINSONLos Angeles, CaliforniaThe Desert callsIts calm, mysterious powerBids me to walk where canyon windAnd silent mountains tower.

Far from the stress of cities,With changes moving fast,I find a peace and quietA kinship with the past.I glory in the solitudeThe vastness, err nging huesOf crimson, gold and silver.With deeper shades of blues.The eons of creationBefore the time of man.Left monuments and recordsFor those to read, who can.A bit of shard or artifactStirs my desire to knowThe histories of erasLong agoso long ago.The mystic Desert calls.If, like a waif I roamNow here, nowthere, the Desert voicesCall mecall meHome.

DESERT WINDBy AMY VIAUSanta Ana, CaliforniaThe strong young wind is very gayAs it blows over the desert wayThis sunny day.It stirs each bush from root to crestAnd shakes the cacti with great zestOn its windy quest.

And from the ground it lifts such thingsAs bits of sand and small dust ringsAnd gives them wings.It rushes, swerves and flows alongWith sounds of cadenced desert song,Fo r its wings are strong.But suddenly as tired wings close,The wind will sink into repose1 would suppose.For at last the Desert wields its powerTo allay whatever would devourIts silent hour.

DESERT CODEBy SARAH PHILLIPS SALINGERSanto Barbara, CaliforniaD stands for Drouth, companion to Deaihwhen earth cries for water and finds noredress.

E stands for Earth, of which Desert's a parta problem for Nature; a prayer forthe heart.S is for Silence and Sunshine and Sanda trinity worthy of dry desert land.E 's for Eternity's countless light years oflife with its struggle; of hope with itstears.R 's for Redemption that follows springshowers tulfilling a promise with desert-born flowers.T stands for Time without reckoning orendtime everlasting! The Desert's bestfriend.

This is the code of desert's strangestoryBe it muted and still, or vibrant withglory.D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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ON DESERT TRAILS WITH A NATURALIST-VIIB u rro M a n o f C o rn S p rin g s

To the old-time desert prospector,the burro was something morethan a mere beast of burden. Itwas a friend and companion and you will better understand theimportance of this friendship whenyou have read Edmund Jaeger'sstory of Gus Lederer and FrankCoffey two of the best knownprospectors on the Colorado Des-ert during the early part of thepresent century.By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of PlantsRiverside Municipal MuseumSketches by the AuthorMap by Norton Allen

N THE SPRING of 1919, a youngworld traveler, Bob Doolittle andI decided to make the "GrandTour" of the Colorado Desert on foot,using two burros to carry our beds andprovisions.Though one burro had a colt onlytwo weeks old, our journey was to takeus across the rugged desert face of theSanta Rosa Mountains, on a descent tothe Salton Sea and then eastward alongthe old stage trail to the ColoradoRiver. We would return by GraniteWell in the Chuckawalla Mountainsand visit Keys' Ranch in the LittleSan Bernardin o Mo untains. Our vag-abond journey was to take months.We left Palm Springs in early March.When we reached Mecca we campedin a thicket of screw-bean trees nearthe old school house so our burroscould feast on the newly ripened beans.Here, by merest chance, we came uponthe famous pros pec tor - story - teller,Frank Coffey (Desert Magazine,March, 1951) who insisted that we"put up" with him for a day or two athis renowed "Milk Spring" at DosPalmas . From there he said he woulddirect us up Salt Creek to see Coffey'sNeedle, a remarkable narrow spire ofclay and sandstone 60 feet high.When we reached Coffey's placenext day we found him in the midst ofbig preparations for his annual jour-

Gus Lederer and one of his goodfriends a t his little desert oasis, CornSprings. When Edmund C. Jaegerand Bob Doolittle visited Old Gusin 1919, he had a "family" of 18burros. P hoto by Loyd Cooper.O C T O B E R , 1 9 5 4 23


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Two rare plants Edmund C. J a e g e r , curator of plains a t th e RiversideMunicipal Museum, collected o n t h e "Grand Tour." Left: Mojave Beard-tongue ( P e n s t e m o n p s e u d o s p e c t a b i l i s ) , an d r i g h t : O r o c o p i a S a g e (SalviaG r e a t a e ) .ney to visit Gus Lederer, "Mayor ofCorn Springs," Coft'ey called him. CornSprings was in the Chuckawalla Moun-tainstwo days' burro journey away,acco rding to Coffey's calculation. Ithad long been a custom for the Mayorof Dos Palmas, as Coffey labeled him-self, to honor the Mayor of CornSprings with a yearly visit.

Later Gus Lederer and his donkeysthere were 18 of themwould spenda week or more with Frank Coffeyand his five burro s. Fo r the two des-ert men it was always a great time ofswapping lies, telling tall tales andmapping strategy for prospecting tripsto the nearby desert hills and arroyos."You bet," said Coffey, "those werebully good occasions, not only forourselves, but for all our burros, too.The burros had a good visit just aswe did. Why those jacks and jenniesalmost wept when it was time to partcompany and go home."Coffey's recital of the beauties ofCorn Springs and the hospitality that

would surely await us if we called onhis friend, Lederer, moved us to changeour itinerary. A wise decision it was .Next day, after Coffey regaled uswith descriptive stories half the night,we packed our burros and started upSalt Creek Wash, the baby burro tag-

ging along. This was a botanicallyimportant locality I had long wishedto visit. He re on an alluvial fan a fewyears earlier my friend, Dr. HarveyH. Hall, University of California bot-anist, and his companion, Louis Greata,had discovered one of the world'srarest shrubby sa

Documents

195410 Desert Magazine 1954 October