198005 Desert Magazine 1980 May

8/14/2019 198005 Desert Magazine 1980 May

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MAY, 19 80- $1.50

F L A S H F L O O DF A C E S O F V E G A S

D A N G E R !P O I S O N O U SCR ITTERS


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L u x u r y and c o m f o r t c o m b i n e d w i t h ex-c e p t i o n a l 4 - w h e e l d r i v e p e r f o r m a n c e . Y o u ' llf i n d t h e m all in the 1 9 8 0 J e e p W a g o n e e rL i m i te d . W i th all t h e s e m o s t w a n t e d op-t i o n s , s t a n d a r d !R i c h l e a t h e r s e a t s , e x t r a - t h i c k c a r p e t -

i n g , w o o d g r a in t r i m y o u ' r e s u r r o u n d e d inc o m f o r t . And b r a n d new for 1 9 8 0 , con-v e n i e n c e s l i k e p o w e r w i n d o w s , p o w e r d o o rl o c k s , and a q u a r t z d i g i ta l c l o c k . P lu s a

s t e re o A M / F M r a d io w i th y o u r c h o i c e of 8 p lu s Q u a d r a - T r a c , J e e p 's e x c l u s iv e , a u t ot r a c k or C B . m a t ic 4 - w h e e l d r iv e s y s t e m all w o r k toS u p e r i o r p e r f o r m a n c e is th e J e e p t r a d e - g e t h e r to p r o v id e u n s u r p a s s e d t r a c t i o n a nm a r k ! F e a t u r e s l ik e a u t o m a t ic t r a n s m i s s io n , s u p e r b t o w i n g c a p a b i l it ie s . O n - ro a d or o f fp o w e r s t e e r i n g a n d p o w e r f r o n t d is c b r a k e s in g o o d w e a t h e r o r b a d .r W e i n v i te y o u to t e s t d r iv e t h e 1 9 8 0 J e e| %ty% W a g o n e e r L i m i t e d . Y o u ' ll q u i c k l y u n d eJ P\?Vr|J s t a n d w h V * i s t h e u l t i m a t e w a g o n a n d th e


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Volume 43Number 4 He covers the heavens with clouds, sends down the showersand makes green grass grow in mountain pastures Psalms 147:4 May, 1980USPS 154-940ISSN 0194-3405Editorial Staff

Donald M acDonald, EditorGary E. Squier, Senior Editor/Design DirectorMary Ei leen Twyman, Managing EditorPat J . Wi l l iams , Assistant Managing EditorPhill ip E. Squier, Art DirectorContr ibuting Editors

Karen Sausman, Natural SciencesWayne P. Armstrong, Natural SciencesRuss Leadabrand, Field TripsJerry and Luisa Kl in k, Baja California

Lithographed byWorld Color Press

Avai lable in Microf i lmby Xerox Un iversity Micro f i lms

Nevada has many shades of color,many faces. David Muench's part i-cular talent reveals the obvious butalso subtle nature of the Silver Statein his cover photo, Fremont PyramidSilhouette, Pyramid Lake, Nevada.

5 THE MAN Y FACES OF VEGASDonald MacDonald SA M 'S TOW N: A Need Recognized OLD VEGA S: Trading on the Past GOODSPRINGS: Silently Fading Aw ay POP'S OASIS: Right Side of the Road ST. JU DE 'S: Haven for Children15 OREGON'S HARN EY COUNTYBillie Durfee19 NEWS FROM THE LIVING DESERT20 KIT T'S PEAK : Our Link with SpaceJenny Gray22 SELDOM SEEN SLIMDrawn by Arnold Roth23 BOULDER CITY: That Dam TownGary E. Squier30 FLASH FLOOD!Gene R. Russell35 BOULDER FLA T: A Mystery GhostBuddy Noonan38 Desert ROCKHOUNDRick Mitchell39 TH E CACTUS CITY CLARIONEdited by M ary E. Twyman41 Desert CALENDAR42 TOMB STONE RISES AG AINWayne Winters45 OUR VENE MOU S NEIGHBORSDennis M cFarland52 W HA T'S COOKING ON THE DESERT?Stella Hughe s53 COYDOGS: Can They Be Tamed?Karen Sausman57 PHOTO CONTEST W INNE R

Desert Magazine is published monthly by Cactus Paperworks, Inc. Of-ficers: R.C. Packer, P resident; Chester M . Ross, Vice-President; DonaldMacDonald, Vice-President; Gary E. Squier, Vice-President; MarjorieMoline, Secretary. EDITORIAL, CIRCULATION, AND ADVERTISINGOFFICES: 74-425 Highway 111 , P.O.Box 1318, Palm Desert, CA. 92261.Telephone: (714) 568-2781. SUBSCRIPTION RATES: U.S. and its pos-sessions, Canada, and Mexico: 1-year, $9.00; 2-years, $17.00; 3-years,$25.00. All other countries add $2.00 U.S. currency for each year. See

subscription order form in this issue. Please allow five weeks for changeof address and send both new and old addresses with zip codes. Secondclass postage paid at Palm Desert, CA ., and at add itional m ailing officesunder Act of March 3,1879. Contents copyrighted 1980 by Desert Maga-zine and permission to reproduce any or all contents must be secured inwrit ing. Unsolicited manuscripts and photographs will not be returnedunless accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope or inter-national exchange coupons.


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L H H E P O W E L Lo f f - s E n s o n i s J U S T n sB E H U T I F U L

It's the greatest fo r summer family fun.Wahweap, Bullfrog and Hite resorts/marinasare open year around, but you really shouldtry us in the spring, fall an d winter...Not only fo r moderate temperatures,/ betterfishing and ess crowded conditions, but for

S a v i n g s to1 0 /

Send color and rate brochures onWahweap, Bul l f rog and H i te resor ts /mar inas

N a m e _Address _City _ S t a t e .

L a h e P o w e l l R e s o r t s S m a r i n a s D MB o x 2 9 0 4 0 , P h o e n i x , AZ 8 5 0 3 8

N e w c e n t ra l r e s e rv a t io n s s y s t e m :W e s t of M i s s i s s i p p i c a l l t o l l- f r e e 1 - 8 0 0 - 5 2 8 - 6 1 5 4 .I n A r i z o n a , c a l l ( 6 0 2 ) 2 6 4 - 8 4 6 6 .

O U R R E O E R SW I T EDESERT USERS C ATEGOR IZEDWendell Berry in the Unsettling of Americasaid that, in terms of land use, Americans fallinto two categories: the exploiters and thenurturers. The exploiters are those whowould destroy the long-term productivi ty ofthe land for short-term economic ga in . Theexploiters, act ing in the prof i teering l i festyleso popular in our times, would use up our de-sert lands and leave nothing but wastelandsfor succeeding generations. The nurturers arethose who would use our lands but sacrificesome amount of short-term profit for the sakeof long-term productivi ty. They would nottake more than the desert can give. Theywould allow the desert legacy to remain forour chi ldren and our chi ldren's ch i ldren.Steven SingerSanta Cruz, Calif.SUGAR IS SUGAR IS SUGAR

Your ar t ic le "Date l ine: Ind io, Ca l i f . " [Desert,Ma r. '80] may have inadvertently done a dis-service. You state dates contain invert sugar(monosaccharides) which is non-acidic andmay betaken by diabetics with no adverse ef-fects. This is mysti fying, much as statementsI hear that white sugar is harmful and thatbrown sugar, molasses or honey are "morebenef ic ia l " or "more natura l . " Sugar issugar as far as the human body is concerned,regardless of source. All sugars are exactlythe same for equal weight consumed. Al l areconverted when eaten into glucose, the majorbody metabol ic substance. Therefore the dia-betic must count the calories from all sugars,and starches too for they are polysaccharides.Frank W. El l is , M.D .Los Alam itos, Cal i f .Dr. Ellis's informative letter was edited by usfor space reasons. Readers, particularly dia-betics and others who must control their su-gar intake, will be sent the complete textupon request. Please enclose a stamped,self-addressed envelope. The informationthat "diabetics may consume invert sugarswith no adverse effects" is contained in li-terature distributed by most of the major dategrowers, and author Lee Kirk and the editorsof Desert saw no reason to question what wasstated as a fact by those who should know.READING FOR EVERYBODYHey, I l ike that down-home Cactus City Cla-rion you're print ing in Desert nowadays. Lotsof stuff about mines, mining, and some bul lthrown in for f lavoring. Now there's readingfor everybody college professor or stud ent,nature lovers, miners, rockhounds, treasurehunters and even for an ol ' desert rat l ikeme. You done throwed a clod in the butter-churn this t ime.40 Mi le AlReno, Nevada

A LE TTER TO SUBSCRIBERSW e've been f ighting the bat-tle of inflation here at Desertand frankly , w e're losing. Thesupplies we use in our typeset-ting machines, for example,went up 40-60 per cent as of

Feb. 1, 1980, due to compar-able increases in the silver andpetroleum used as ingredientsin these materials. We're sorrybut effective with all subscrip-tions that expire with our Jun e,1980 issue, we're forced toraise our renewal rates to $10for one year or $19 for twoyears. Three year subscriptionswill be discontinued. So, Re-new or Extend Your PresentSubscription Now to Beat thePrice Increase. And it's a goodtime to think about sendingDesert to a friend. Gift sub-scriptions will go up with theJune issue, too.

Regretfully,The Publishers of Desert

BUSINESS STAFFPublisherDonald MacDonaldCo-PublisherGary E. SquierAdvertising SalesNancy McCrearyMarketing DirectorGeorge E. SectorSubscription FulfillmentPat J.W il l iamsBusiness ManagerMarjorie MolineCounselChester M. Ross

Represented by National Advertising Sales, InRobert E. Leyburn, Pres.Mike Cerik, Nat' l . Sis. Mgr.Louis T. Zito, Reg. M gr.750 Third Avenu e, 29th FloorNew York, NY 10017(212)682-7483Philip E. Holmes, Reg. Mgr.435 N. Michigan Ave ., Suite 1314Chicago, 1160611(312)644 8270

Lou Pagluighi, Reg. Mgr.1680 Vine St., Suite 909Los Angeles, CA 90028(213)466-7717Desert is published monthly by Cactus Papworks, Inc. Copyright 1980. Editorial and Avertising Sales Offices: 74-425 Highway 11Palm Desert, CA 92260. Please address all mto Desert: P.O. Box 1318, Palm Desert, C92261; Tel. (714) 568-2781. Desert is distributnationally by Dell Distributing C , Inc., 1 DHammarskjold Plaza, New York, NY 1001JohnGa ffney, Acc 't. Ex ec, T el. (212)832-730

Desert/May 19


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photo by David Muench

M

THE

Wi. m

,wby Donald MacDonald S OF VEGA


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SAM'S TOWNL as Vegas is as much a part ofour desert as Tombstone,Zzyzx or Santa Fe except thatit is a little newer. 461,000people live in or near the cityand in 1979, there were 56,957marriages and only 7,588 divorces.There are 200 churches and 111 el-ementary and seconday schools. Tofurther qua lify, the average rainfallis 3.76 inches which is arid by anydefinit ion.As you come down off the ClarkMtn. grade headed north on 1-15from Las Angeles, the neon bril-liance of this strange place greetsyou 30 miles out. Closer, its build-ings sprout like giant concrete andglass cacti from the desert floor. Init, one must search to find proof inthe form of homes for the statisticsquoted above.The homes are there, stretchedout along the boulevards that runeastward toward Boulder Highwa y,and it is this orientation of localpopulation that caused Sam andBill Boyd to locate their new Sam'sTown Hotel & Gambling Hall way

far from the center of tourist activi-ties. The Boyds felt, and they haveproved to be right, that the localswanted to get away from the Stripand Downtown Casino Centerwhen it came their tu rn to play.It was a $15,000,000 gamble forthat's what it cost to build Sam'sTown, first opened a year ago lastMarch, and it has already paid offin four clovers. The reason is thatVegas locals are treated like se-cond-class citizens in the ir own ca-sinos, even when they work thereas the majority of residents do.They can 't even get a $100 marker,their jargon for credit.Sam's Town employees, frommanagers to car jockeys, are first ofall courteous. They'd better be be-cause their customers think theplace belongs to them. And, ofcourse, once a visitor is registered ,he can't usually, with an importantexception, be told from a local sothe same courtesies are extendedto him.The exception is the horsemen(or women) who make Sam's Town

their headquarters, at first onlbecause it was convenient tHorseman's Park, but eventuallfor the same reasons that draweveryone. Sam Boyd shakes hhead at why these people wertreated so shabbily on the StripThey've just got to have money, hnotes with considerable logic.So plans are afoot for SamTown to sponsor a major rodeo thMay or June. The two best in eacof the eight established specialtiefrom all over the country w ill be invited. The stakes will be high anpaid, too, which is sometimes nothe case in rodeos.The Boyds are pushing th"westernization" of Sam's TownGroun d-breaking is scheduled soofor an adjacent 200-room hotel tbe called the Pioneer which waugment the existing 200 roomsTh ere 'll be a rustic steakhouse anan open-pit barbeque every nighweather permits.It hurts to expand now becausSam's Town is nowhere close to returning its investment. HoweveDesert/May 19


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escalating costs demand commit-ment. While the Boyds may noteven play their own slot machines,they're gamblers and have been alltheir lives.Sam himself is one of the fewold-timers in Vegas who has sur-vived the three major transitions inthe casino hierarchy. Nothingmuch happened until after WorldWar II but then there was a briefper iod when anyone with themoney could get into the business.That, of course, at t racted the" m o b " who established the Strip,leaving the pioneers downtownpretty much alone. Sam says hecould live with them and that mostof his contemporaries did .It was the corporations who camenext, after the mob was kicked out,that made it hard. He remembersHoward Hughes moving in andbuying the Sands, Desert Inn, Sil-ver Slipper, Castaway, and Fron-tier within weeks of each other.There was no communication be-tween the old and the new and theseparation became permanent.Sam, who started out workingthe gambling ships off San Pedroon the California coast, speculatesfrom experience that the little guyused to come to Vegas once amonth or once a year to rub shoul-Desert/May 1980

ders with the big shots. It wasimage and security and now, allthat is lost. The little guy doesn'tcare if the odds are a little bettertoday, and that there's very little ifany fixing of games, because heknows he's going to lose anyway. Itjust takes a little longer and whilehe's losing, he gets kicked aroundby nobodies which is hard to take.In short, the little guy doesn't feelat home anymore.Except at Sam's Town. Yourroom is ready when you get there.The genial Nell presides in Dia-mond Lil's, one of the best restau-rants in Las Vegas, and not onlyasks your name when you come inbut remembers it when you leave.The waitresses even smile for youat 3 a.m . in the coffee shop wh ich,incidentally, is ventilated by a sys-tem of belt-driven tans intricate e-nough to puzzle an astronau t.Is Sam's Town a vacation spotfor families with kids? Not quite,anymore than is Circus Circus orthe MGM Grand with its elaboratenursery and youth hostel. Vegas isfor grown-ups unless you make it abase to see the desert heritage andbeauty that abounds within a day'sdrive or less everywhere aroundthe city. You'll find some of that onthe pages that follow .


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OLD VEGASI1830 a 16-year-old outride rnamed Rafael Rivera brokeaway from a 60-man tradingparty headed by Antonio Ar-mijo to investigate a forbid-ding-looking desert valley that hadalways been by-passed by travelersbetween Santa Fe and California.As he drew closer, he could see alush, marshy green strip. Oncethere, he saw the marsh was fed bythree powerfully flowing springs.Rivera was standing on land that isnow the street separating the FourQueens from the Fremont Hotel indowntown Las Vegas's CasinoCenter.Rivera is the first known non-Indian to cross the Las Vegas Val-ley, 14 years ahead of Capt. JohnC. Fremont and 24 years ahead ofthe peripatetic Mormons spreadingout from Salt Lake City to Califor-nia in their attempt to establish afor t i f ied miss ion chain. Riveradidn't stay but the Mormons did,thus ironically founding a citywhose way of life today is not ex-

actly what these early apostles hadin mind .However, those disparate philo-sophies have given Vegas twoadobe forts. One, long gone, is nowan historical site marked only by aplaque. The other, still undergoingexpansion, is designed to attractvisitors , not defend against them .Today's "Fort" Vegas is actuallyin nearby Henderson, located therebecause 125 acres happened to beavailable at the right price and alsobecause Boulder Blvd. (U.S. 95) isthe most heavly traveled thorough-fare in urban Nevada. And that isbecause it leads to and from Boul-der Dam.Some people m ight think that thenew fort, or "Old Vegas" as it iscalled by its owners, reminds themof "Old Tucson." It should be-cause amusement park magnateBob Shelton created them both.Yo u'll be surrounded by audio andvisual history when you enter,served up Disney-style by no lessthan 15 multi-media projectors.

Shelton has spent $3 million sofar and talks of another $15 millionbefore he's through. Already inbeing is the two-level Hondo Cant ina, a restaurant good enough tobe on the intinerary of tours o riginating on the Strip. A "Sutler'sStore," misnamed because it sellsarts and crafts to the tourist andnot supplies to the military, vieswith 21 and slots for your extradollars, but one admission tickeper person covers everything else.A considerable chunk of Shelton's opening money went to thpurchase of Smith's Row, a modetown of the old west originally assembled from genuine artifacts anstructures by a private Californicollector. Piece by piece, it is beingtransported and placed on exhibiat Old Vegas.Shelton says he is just startingon "phase tw o" in which future visitors may anticipate a "westernpark true to his tory " complete w iteverything except a roller coasterThat excep tion is a promise.

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GOODSPRINGSas Vegas was still 20 yearsaway from being a placewhen the Clark County min-ing town of Goodsprings, 34miles southwest, was found-ed. There was a spring but thequality of the water, for better orworse, had nothing to do with thename. That came from a prospectorand cattleman named Joe Goodwho stayed on after initia l attemptsto find enough silver values in thelead deposits failed .The Keystone gold mine wasdiscovered in 1892 and within ayear, there were 200 people in theGoodsprings area. From then until1952, what is still known as theYellow Pine mining district earnedover $31 million from lead, gold,and most importantly during twoseparate wars, 85 million pounds ofzinc.There were maybe 50 fewerpeople in Goodsprings during the1920s, but they lived better. Thetown's luxu rious , 20-room GayleHotel was better than anything LasVegas yet had to offer, so folksdrove out to Goodsprings on a

Desert/May 1980

summer Sunday afternoon both todine in the Gayle's sumptuous res-taurant and to watch and some-times enter the car races staged onthe nearby dry lakes.For other tastes, Goodspringsoffered its Pioneer Saloon & PokerParlor, a favorite of locals eventoday, and what was called a "re-s t r i c t e d " dist r ic t . And a mannamed Sam Yount staged minstrelshows at his general store.Today maybe half of Good-spring 's standing bu ildings are oc-cupied, mostly be escapees whocommute daily to their work in LasVegas. Cora Bateman, about 82,and Terry Cowart, maybe 85, willreminisce with you about the olddays. Ms. Cowart is the town'slongtime postmistress.Genial Joe Anthony, a relativenewcomer from California, gave upmining to manage the Pioneer andkeeps it much like it always hasbeen since 1913 when it was built dusty, rowdy, and fun. But Joe'sfuture is uncertain. Owner DonHedrick has just sold the Pioneer toPeter Simon of Pop's Oasis in Jean

(see next page).The Fayle Hotel burned down in1966 and the many weed-grownfoundations elsewhere indicate thetown has shrunk considerably. Lo-cal historians are vague as to spe-cifics, perhaps because firewoodfor the remaining stoves is scarceand expensive. There are simplytoo many people still around forvandals to have done much da-mage, so one must conclude it wasan inside job.Visitors to Goodsprings shouldalso explore the remains of nearbySandy, Platina, and Kingston, thelatter being just over the border inCalifornia. Boss and Ripley, townssometimes mentioned in guide-books, never were .To reach Goodsprings and itsne ighbor ing ghosts , you dr ivesouth on 1-15 to the Jean-Good-springs off-ramp, turn right, andfollow paved N-53 for seven miles.Then inquire locally to find theright graded dirt road called theSandy Loop that takes you into theSandy Valley and back again 25miles later to Goodsprings.


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POP'SOASISbove: $25 is the limit on craps at Pop'sOasis. Below: 28-year-old Peter Simon in-herited the Oasis from Pop, his dad.oe Good of Goodsprings andJean Dale of GoodspringsJunction may never have metfor they lived seven miles a-part and their generationsjust barely overlapped. But hadthey met, Joe might not have spo-ken because his Junction was nowknown as Jean. The lucky lady hadmarr ied that ra i l road center 'sleading citizen, George Dale, andhe had high-handedly renamed theplace after her.Jean, Nevada, has always had areason for being whereas Good-springs had thrived for only as longas its mines. By the time those

mines had petered out and thetrains sped by Jean without stop-ping, a highway had been built and

a man named Shorty Smith openeda Standard gas station with aseven-stool lunch counter.Shorty sold to Pop, who called ithis "Oasis," and by 1947 thesquare footage devoted to gam-bling rivaled the newly-openedFlamingo in Las Vegas. That raceof course, was not an even one butnevertheless, Peter A. "Pop" Si-mon prospered from those whocouldn 't wait for The Strip, anothe23 miles away, to wager theirmoney. He also picked up thosewho had a little left on their wayhome.Pop's gone now but his son, 28year-old Peter II, has not changedthe family home and business onebit except to refurbish for norma

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place the way it is. Some, inPeter II is somewhat of a mys-

ing. They think Peter is some kindrom New York or someplace whopicked Jean to get away from it allbut as we know, he was born andraised there.Peter is a big young man, givento horn-rimmed glasses, long ci-gars, expensive suits, and themanners of one who can get what-ever he wants. He looks very unlikethe picture of Pop which hangs onhis office wall.But while he may seem out ofplace in one, Peter has a thing forsmall western towns, the moreghostly and arid, the better. It is hewho for a year or so owned DeathValley Junction in its entirety. Andjust recently, as we've said, hebought the old Pioneer Saloon atGoodsprings.

He denies nostalgia and forproof, he points to the tour busesunloading one after the other at hisOasis. Put your place on the right-hand side of a busy highway milesfrom nowhere and you can't gowrong, he says, watching to see ifwe can figure that one out.We can't. We suspect thesuccess of Pop's Oasis has more todo with the relieving of customers'kidneys than the filling of them, nomatter which way you're driving.In any case, young Mr. Simonhas it made. While he doesn't owneverything in Jean, he had enoughto donate 350 acres to the state fora minimum security prison. Askedwhy that choice for a neighbor and

his answer was one word stabil-ity. We had guessed strategicallyplaced off-ramps.A roadhouse, however remote,filled with people pumping slotmachines and playing $25 limitcraps can't exactly be called isola-tion but at least Peter I I . doesn'thave to worry about how bright hisneighbor's new neon sign will be orwhat big-name star he should bookfor his next show. He gets a cross-section of the highway anyway, asmany Caddies as VWs. He has in-dependence which is what alwayshas brought people to settle inplaces like Jean.

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ST. JUDE'Saven forChildren

by Mary Eileen Twyman

T he reasons people have for moving to the de-sert are always varied and som etimes complex.Some risk small fortunes in search of largerones at the bottoms of lost or abandonedmines. Others are searching for a place soquiet one can hear a star fal l, and then there arethose compelled to pit skill and machine againsttreacherous terrain, but whatever their reasons,most people who live in the desert moved there vol-untarily from a less harsh environment.Forty-two year old Father Herbert A. Ward of St.Jude's Ranch for Children in Boulder City, Nevada,doesn't fit into any of these categories. Fr. Ward,when asked how he came to be here, looks heaven-ward and tells you most likely he was "sum m on ed ."In 1967, another Episcopal priest named Fr. JackAdams was working w ith a parish in Las Vegas whenit came to his attention that the state didn't haveeven a single facility to care for battered children,the term used by social workers to describe thosewho have been psychologically and physically a-bused by their parents. At his urging, Boulder Citydonated a 40-acre bluff overlooking Lake Mead. ALas Vegas manufacturer donated the cement block,and with the brick layers union donating themanpower and Colonel Sanders the food, St. Jude'sRanch for Ch ildren became a somewhat precariouslyperched re ality.After six months of balancing the Ranch on thatfine line between just barely making it and not, Fr.Adams had to leave because of ill health. Precededby four priests in rapid succession, Fr. W ard came toa buckling St. Jude's in August of 1970.He had been happily and prosperously situated assenior curate and headmaster of the day school at St.

While the staff has many other duties at S t Jude's, being surrogatparents is all-important. Here, not knowing his picture was beintaken, Fr. Neil deRijk displays the love lavished on each child, famore, perhaps , than that which exists in most families.

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To p left: While nom inally Episcopalian, S t. Jude's grants haven toany child regardless of creed. Center: Sports aid the transition fromtotal withdraw al to vibrant participation. Above : Th e children areencouraged to create, however much it might strain the Ranch'sfinances. Top right: A ntique bells donated by the Bishop of Bristol,England, await construction of a tower to house them.

George's Episcopal Church in New Orleans when hereceived his first phone call from Judge Alvin Wart-man of St. Jude's Board of Trustees in May, 1970.Fr. W ard's immediate reply was a f irm " N o ! " But,the Board's persistence, daily Scripture read ings, hisown prayerful soul searching, and Fr. Richardson's,the Rector of St. George's, advice "D on 't ever closethe door on the Holy Spirit" brought a veryreluctant, "shaking my fist at the heavens" for the"can of worm s" being opened before him , Fr. Wardto the Ranch to " tr y it for one ye ar.'' Before that yearwas ended he was convinced of, and w illing to followthrough with, God's plan for him .It hasn't been easy for Fr. Ward, either. Helaughingly claims the right to every gray hair on hishead. He is more than merely a priest and director ofthis ranch. He is very much "Dad" and protector ofhis family. The numbers vary and the faces change,but they are all his children.They attend public schools, bring their friendshome to visit, and they in turn visit their friends'homes. The children have several pets. This is es-sential because they will often respond to a petbefore they w ill respond to the staff. One, a Germanshepherd named "Missy," was a special reward fora young boy who wanted a dog. Fr. Ward gave him$5.00 and told h im to save another $5.00 from his al-lowance; it was a proud, happy boy who broughtMissy home from the pound as a puppy.The children have their assigned jobs, and some ofthem are presently involved with installing their ownwater system for the new sports f ield. They help withthe vegetable garden, and one boy planted a rosegarden along with a grapevine which yielded 19pounds of grapes last year.Each child gets an allowance un til he or she reach-es 16. The staff, which includes three very lively andloving Anglican Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent dePaul named Sr. Angela, Sr. Colette, and Sr.Rosamond, will then help the young person find ajob. At the age of 17 they are expected to pay $2.50 aweek to St. Jude's for room and board, perhaps atoken sum but it's a start toward assuming responsi-bility for their own support and preparing them forgraduation the following year.The children were all in school when we visited theRanch. Walking through the cottages with Fr. Wardwas just like being with any proud parent. He wouldcomment on one child's hobby, another's special ta-lent, an ingenuous prank here or there, a funny thing


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Right: Fr. Ward acknowledged his"call" to direct S t. Jude's. Below:"Missy" was the first attachmentever formed by her child owner. Be-low, right: Sr. Angela is one of threesurrogate mothers at St. Jude's.

one of the g irl's had said, and how hard it was to getthe kids to do their chores on Saturday mornings.Had we not been briefed on the sad beginnings ofthese children, he could have been just any fatherdiscussing his fam ily.Previously we had been sitting in his office, wherepictures of kids take up every inch of spare wall,shelf, and desk space. Fr. W ard had touched on howthe children were always wondering why they wereat St. Judes, or why Mother didn't call or, sadly,blaming themselves for their parent's breaking up.And, how to many of them, with so much to worryabout, studies just weren't important. Fr. Ward toldof the day they received the large statue of the HolyFamily, carved of wood from Korea, which was do-nated to the chapel: "A ll of the kids have the dreamof going home. They stroked the baby, and some ofthe children were so moved at seeing a permanentlycarved family, they crie d. "St. Jude's is mostly supported by private gifts.Nevada's welfare funds provide a small portion ofthe annual budget. Another, surer source is the"Night of Stars Benefit" in Las Vegas. November,1980 will be the 14th annual gathering of top enter-tainers (Frank Sinatra is a regular) who donate their14

talents for the sole purpose of aiding these child ren .The sky had been pouring every thing but sunshineon the desert the day we talked with Fr. W ard . And ,as we left the Ranch, the earth seemed still to betrembling from the lightning and thunder that had,just minutes before our departure, split the sky anddumped a layer of hail on the already saturatedground. The heavens were caught up in playingocean and cascading waves of clouds over the tops ofthe surrounding mountains, splashing them downthe ravines, curling them around protrusions andridges, and disguising them as islands and reefs.The whole environment crackled and sparkled like achild's eyes, like the eyes of a child who had beencaught playing hookey by a parent or teacher whounderstood that sometimes it's just fun and all rightto be not the way, or where, you're supposed to be like rain and hail on a desert that's supposed to bearid and hot.Understanding and unquestioning love, meetingthese children individually and right where they'reat, drafted and directed by God and with the help of afew friends, Fr. Ward and his staff are the familythese children never had, carving the home theyalways dreamed of, from out of a desert hillsid e.Desert/May 1980


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OREGON'SHARNEY COUNTYStory and Photos by Billie Durfee

J * Y

& ^m


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outheastern Oregon is deep in history, large inarea, and high in altitude; it's also short onpeople, but long on wildfowl, game, and fish.This happy combination makes the SteensMountain area of Harney County attractive tobirdwatchers, naturalists, geologists, photograph-ers, historians, and conservationists.More and more people explore it each year, de-spite its distance from "civilization." Burns, thecounty seat with a population of 3,293, is nearly 300miles from Portland, Oregon; over 200 from Alturas ,California; and nearly 300 from Winnemucca,Nevada.However, more people doesn't mean a crowd. Ex-cept in Burns and south on State Highway 205, youare unlikely to see more than five or six cars in awhole day.Where to stay? The historic and central place tospend a few nights is 58 miles south of Burns at theFrenchglen Hotel in the hamlet (population 11) of

Frenchglen. The hostelry was built in 1916 as a stop-over for teamsters bound south over the JackassMountains which rise directly behind the hotel; thewagons then continued through the Catlow Valleycarrying supplies to the Roaring Springs, Alvord,and Whiteho rse ranches. The hotel's eight rooms arespartan but pleasing with beds covered with hand-made quilts. Breakfast and dinner are served familystyle around two oval tables.Most people drive the Steens Mountain Loop thefirst da y. The trip is around 52 miles on a graded dirtroad. Because of snow, the road is usually closedfrom late October until July. A llow a minimum of fivehours to be sure of enough time for off-roadexploring. The road, however, can be negotiatedsafely by passenger cars.Unlike most of Oregon's mountains which areeither volcanic cones and/or part of a range, Steensis a fault block mountain. Millions of years ago a 30-mile-long rent in the earth's surface allowed the ba-saltic crust to be pushed up along the fault line. Itlooks like a tipped over book end.There are no foothills; instead, the mountain risesgradually on the west side. The approach to thesummit is 23 miles as the crow flies but not as theroad winds. The ascent passes through four distinctzones: The sageline belt, the juniper belt, the aspenbelt, and above 8,000 feet, the bunchgrass belt. Thesummit is 9,354 feet or 9,773, depending on whichexpert opinion you choose.

The exterior of the unique round barn is shown opposite. Inside, thmaze of supporting posts undoubtedly complicated the job training and breaking.

The southern approach to the rim is more dram atthan the northern one. Drive 10 miles south oFrenchglen and turn east. Observe the sign whicsays that the weather on Steens can change suddenwith lightn ing , violent rain storms, snow storms, anhigh winds. Avoid high points, canyon rims, ancreek bottoms during extreme weather conditions.First come the Blitzen River crossing and Little Indian Creek and gorge. After these is Big IndiaGorge which is definitely worth a side trip . The arejust beyond looks like an in fan tile Icelandic lava bedLook for coyotes on the lower elevations and antelopand mule deer higher up.The summit has two wildly different views. Theast rim has a vertical drop of over 5,000 feet to thAlvord Desert which is still over 4,000 feet above selevel. The desert, 15 miles long and eight miles wideis a glistening expanse of desolation surrounded bacres of greasewood and some bunchgrass.The northern rim looks down into the Kiger Gorge


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The round barn on PeteFrench's Barton Lake sub-station is the sole survivor ofthree. They were used forbreaking and exercising hor-ses during winter months.

It is the largest of the many valleys . Un like the othergorges, which were cut by streams, Kige r was cut bya glacier. You can see the western sw ing the glaciertook as it carved this ha lf-mile deep valley. Deer feedon the valley floor as do Herefords. Part of the valleyis privately owned and part is leased by the BLM forgrazing.The Loop Road continues past Fish Lake, over7,000 feet high and stocked with trout, to Lily Lake.The northern exit crosses the entrance to PeteFrench's famous " P " Ranch, but save the ranch fora whole Pete French day.Steens was unimaginatively named by MajorEnoch Steen who in 1860 left his fort at the TheDalles on the Co lumbia River to explore for a wagonroad to Salt Lake City. He simp ly named it after h im-self w ith no apostrophe.A later military man of higher rank, ColonelGeorge B. Currey, was more dramatically inclined.While crossing a river during a thunder and light-ning storm, he named it the Donner und BlitzenRiver. The "u n d " is still on the maps, but most ofthe locals refer to it as the Blitzen River.The Blitzen, which receives many of the streamsthat melt off the mountain, flows north into MalheurLake and together they create the marshes which at-tract the abundant animal life that first brought theregion to President Theodore Roosevelt's attention.He created the M alheur National W ildli fe Refuge.

The Refuge headquarters turn-off is 35 miles northof Frenchglen. A dike road, higher than State High-way 205, runs parallel to it. Signs are posted to tellwhich portions of the d ike road are open since someparts are closed during various nesting seasons.Take the dike road whenever possible.The Refuge was established in 1908 primarily as anesting place for migrating birds. It is also a gather-ing place for waterfowl migrating between southernwintering grounds and northern breeding areas onthe Pacific flyway.At the top of the " T " shaped refuge are theDouble 00 Ranch, Harney Lake, the Refuge head-quarters, and Malheur Lake; the vertical part is theBlitzen River Valley that extends past Frenchglen.In wet seasons Malheur Lake overflows into Mudand Harney Lakes, and it is this extensive freshwa terDesert/May 1980

expanse in the midst of an immense arid regionwhich has attracted 264 species of birds and 52 spe-cies of mammals.History buffs will enjoy an entire day of PeteFrench's ranch buildings. But first a very short ac-count of early 19th century Harney County pioneers:T h e f irst white men arrived in Harney CountyBasin in 1826. They were French-Canadian furtrappers under the command of Peter SkeneOgden who explored for the Hudson's BayCompany. He recorded seeing large numbersof Indians around Malheur Lake. Indeed, the Paiuteshad an ideal loca tion. Summers they cou ld m igrate afew miles up the mountain to enjoy the cooler air,and still hunt fish and fowl in the marshes below. Atthe same time they could eat game from the slopes ofthe Steens. The Paiutes lived in small fam ily groups,and until stirred up by the Bannocks in 1878 were apeaceful, loosely kn it tribe .Nearly 20 years after Ogden's trappers, thefamous Meek Cutoff Party which had left the OregonTrail to avoid the treacherous Blue Mountains, blun-dered through the region. These were the pioneerswhose children threw pretty yellow rocks into a bluebucket as they walked along . It was months later be-fore the much decimated group rejoined the OregonTrail at the Dalles. It was even later before their pa-rents found out that the rocks were gold. The myth-ical Blue Bucket Mine has never been found despitediligent searching in half a dozen diaries and muchdirect ap plication of pick and shovel.The year 1868 marks the arrival of Oregon's firstgenuine cattle baron, John Devine, who came fromCalifornia to establish the Whitehorse Ranch south-east of the Steens.Four years later Pete French traveled norththrough the Sacramento Valley. Pete was the bestcattleman, the best builder, the most dramaticstockman of them all. He married the boss's daugh-ter and then, one day after Christmas, he was shot inthe back. His murderer was acquitted although thekillin g was witnessed by several cowhands. No won-der that more has been writte n about him than aboutDevine, Henry Miller or Bill Harney, all well knownin local cattle history.French arrived w ith 1,200 head of cattle, 20 saddle

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horses, six Mexican vaqueros, and a Chinese cook.He was backed by Dr. Hugh Glenn of Jacinto, Cali-fornia. Pete drove his herd into the Catlow Valleyand camped near some springs. Soon he was visitedby a man named Porter, a prospector looking forgold, who also ran a few head of cattle. Porter wasdiscouraged; he had decided that he would neverfind gold in the area. He sold his cattle and his " P "branding iron to French . Porter had run his stock be-tween Roaring Springs and the upper Blitzen River,range that was technically his under the existinglaws. The land became French's when he bought thestock and the branding iron.French was determined to own all the BlitzenRiver Valley, and ultimately he did. In time, theFrench-Glenn Livestock Company controlled 100,000acres (there is some disagreement on the exact num-ber), 30,000 head of cattle, and 3,000 horses andmules.He built his main ranch, the " P , " across fromwhat is now Frenchglen. (The Oregon Historical So-ciety does not know when or why the second " n "disappeared.) Here he built a large white house, along barn, a beef wheel for hanging cattle to thwartpredators and for butchering, a good deal of willowfencing, and assorted farm buildings. Much of it isstill the re except for the house which burned down in1947. Of this, only the red brick chimney remains.Legend has it that he built the house for his bride,Dr. Glenn's daughter. However, while the youngFrenches were traveling north to Oregon after thewedding, Dr. Glenn was shot and killed by his book-keeper. His daughter returned home, and a fewmonths later gave birth to a very blond son wholooked not remotely like the black-haired, dark-eyedFrench. San Francisco and Portland papers agreedon this. Ella never went to Oregon, and ultimatelydivorced French.The " P " Ranch was but one of Pete's many sta-tions. He also built the Sod House Ranch, one of thebest preserved, which like the " P " is now within theMalheur Refuge boundaries. Fences, corrals, and 12of the original structures are maintained. It washere, that Pete French was killed by Ed Oliver onDecember 26,1897. He was 48-years old.The refuge map shows the road to another ofPete's unusual buildings, the Round Barn, whichwas part of his Barton Lake substation, It is the solesurvivor of three round barns built for breaking hor-ses durin g the w inter months. The barn is 100 feet indiameter, and directly inside is a 60-foot, circular,lava corral. Inside this , 12 juniper posts support the35-foot-high ceiling. The roof slopes to eight feet onthe sides. It is possible to imagine breaking horses inthe circular co rral. H owever, it is difficult to see howthe stockmen avoided the junipe r posts.Naturally there are ghost towns, and one, ofcourse, is called Blitzen. In the late 1880s a handfulof enterprising souls founded a settlement in theCatlow Valley to meet the demand for supplies in thisnearly endless desert. Blitzen is marked on HarneyCounty hunting maps. The town had one really finehouse, now decrepit but s till v ertica l, a dozen shacks,today mostly listing, two general stores, and oneoptimist who built his post office with 72 boxes.Hurry , because the wind has already blown down the

This building, one of the few remaining in the ghost town of Blitzen,is believed to have been one of the two general stores.

HARNEYCOUNTY map for Desert drawn by Merle Graffam

school, the saloon, and most of the houses.As the saying goes in Harney County, "you're along way out and a long way up." On the next trip hope to see everything again plus the Ma lheur Cavethe Andrews Saloon, the Diamond Hotel, and theghost town of Drewsey. And there'll still be a wholelot left over.


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LIVING DESERT RESERVEThe arts and natural sciencesshare the spotlight at the LivingDesert Reserve during April. Thereis an outstanding watercolor showin McCallum Hall, while newlycompleted cactus and bird of preyexhibits at the north end of the Re-serve should delight plant and ani-mal lovers.CACTUS GARDEN RESTOREDJuly 1979 flood waters devastat-ed the Reserve's Opuntia Garden,a 500-square-foot area devoted to aspecies of cactus common to oursouthwestern deserts. Now restor-ed, the garden gives visitors an op-

portunity to compare nine varietiesof the opuntia genus.Familiarly known by names liketeddy bear cholla, bunny ears,buckhorn cholla, beavertail, andpancake pear, opuntias are dis-tinguished from other cacti by thepresence of tiny hair-like fibers, orglochids, in the aureole from whichthe spines p rotrude . Sometimes, asin the beavertail, there are onlyglochids, which can be as painfulembedded in human skin as thespines themselves. Cact i withspines only include the barrel, sa-guaro, fishhook, and pincushionvarieties.WATERCOLOR SHOWEven the most familiar subjectscan take on exciting dimensionswhen interpreted by a gifted artist.Jeannette Debonne, whose water-colors will be on exhibit in McCal-lum throughout April, is such aninterprete r of desert landscapes.These are not m ajestic vistas, al-though the desert lends itself tosweeping canvasses. She sees, in-stead, "the exquisite linear qualityof skeletal plants and weeds, subt-elty of color, and extraordinarylight" which translates into close-up views of quiet, special places.One agave, a weed in the noondaysand, barren rocks, and desertsnow are the subjects of her paint-ings. Mrs. Debonne, a native of theCoachella Valley, earned a degreein art from UCLA in 1959. For thenext 12 years she worked in oil and,influenced by the Tamayo muralsin Mexico City, produced large, in-Desert/ May 1980

tensely colored works. It was notuntil she and her family moved toPinyon Crest, California, in 1972that she turned to watercolors, amore appropriate media for hernew vision .Debonne watercolors have beenshown at the Palm Springs DesertMuseum, the Riverside Art Centerand Museum, the Riverside Li-brary, and at galleries in RanchoMirage, Idyllwild, and Palm De-sert. Her paintings are in collec-tions in Paris, New York, MexicoCity, San Francisco, Dayton, LosAngeles and Vancouver. Thosethat will be exhibited at the LivingDesert Reserve represent the art-ist's favorite watercolors.

Watercolor by jeannette Debonne

BIRDS OF PREY ON VIE WThe Living Desert Reserve ispermanent home to some 30 injur-ed and orphaned birds, includingmany large birds of prey which are

now housed in two handsome cir-cular welded wire enclosures in theaviary/oasis area. The two cages,and a third which will be built whena sponsor is found, provide a close-up view of a number of differentowls, hawks, and vultures.Rehabilitation and release is thegoal for every bird brought to us.When this is not possible becausethe animals are too tame or dis-abled to survive in the wi ld, theycan serve as valuable breeding,educational, and conservation aids.Some of the raptores to be shownin the bird of prey exhibits are un-common, such as the prairie falcon.This bird is magnificent despite agunshot-amputated wing. Othermore common birds like redtailedand red-shouldered hawks, kes-trels, barn owls, and great-hornedowls are housed together for pur-poses of comparison. Also useful inthe Reserve's education programsare a long-eared and short-earedowl, each of which have lost a w ingto a man with a gun .In the spring, the Reserve is de-luged with young birds brought inby a concerned public. Injuredbirds, from hummingbirds to gold-en eagles, are delivered to animalcurator Fred LaRue all year long.Most are kept in the medical wardwhere they may be viewed throughprotective fencing. Eye-to-eye con-tact between these animals and thepublic is kept to a minimum be-cause the rehabilitation process isretarded when the birds becomehabituated to people.

When the third and most spa-cious bird of prey enclosure isbuilt, it will be used to exercisefledgling barn owls and other rap-tores that have been hand raised. Itwill also house the largest of thebirds in the Reserve's care. A 16' X20' oval, it is planned for the areabehind the oasis.The Living Desert Reserve, lo-cated at 47900 S. Portola Ave.,Plam Desert, Calif., is open sevendays a week from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.Admission is $1.50 for adults, $.25for persons under 18 accompaniedby an adu lt.

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KITT'SPEAK:Our Linkwithby Jenny GrayPhotos courtesy Kitt Peak National O bservatory

fallin g. From a mountain top in southernArizona , a corps of h ighly-trained astronomerskeeps a constant eye on the universe,mo nitoring and measuring nightly to makecertain nothing is amiss.K itt Peak National Observatory, 50 milessouthwest of Tucson, is the world 's largest and mostsophisticated as tronomical lab oratory. Located onthe Papago Indian Reservation, the peak itself soars6,882 feet above the surround ing desert. It is open tovisitors and picnickers from 10 a.m. to 4 p .m. everyday except Christma s. Admission is free.To reach the Observatory from Tucson, drive weston State Highway 86. At the well-marked turnoff,follow the paved 12-mile road to the facility at thecrest of the m ountain. The startling array ofgleaming white domes and towers suggests a "Sta rW a r s " movie set. Inside the Vis itor's Genter,however, fiction becomes science as you manipulatethe model telescope and view the d isplays andexhibits.If you arrive on a Saturday or Sunday, wait for aconducted tour leaving the Center at 10:30 a.m. or1:30 p .m. If a weekday, ask for a printed walking tourguide and proceed on your own . Several of thetelescopes are open , with glass-enclosed galleries toallow visitors close-up views of the equipme nt.A highligh t of your tour w ill be the long, slantedMcM ath solar telescope, largest in the world and aspectacle to insp ire even the sun-wo rshipingPharaoh, Akn aton . Less than half of its 500-foot shaftis visible above grou nd . A series of m irrors forms a30-inch image of the sun , which is reflected on ahorizontal tab le in the observation room at groundlevel, enab ling the scien tist to select small solarfeatures for detailed s tudy or technological analysis.The "ne ar-sig hte d" McM ath was designed to


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peer at the s un, 81/2-light-minutesaway, but the"far -s ighted" Ma yall stellar telescope can explorethe farthest reaches of our known universe, billionsof light-years away. Not long ago, Kitt Peakscientists focused the M aya ll's huge 158-inchreflecting mirro r on the mystery star Beteiquese andobtained the first d etailed photographs ever. Thenews made headlines around the world .The Observatory was built in the late 1950s by theAssociation of Universities for Research (AURA)under contract to the N ational Science Foundation. Itoccupies a m ountain-top site held sacred forgenerations as the home of the Papago d eity,EE-E-Toy. In 1958, after a search team chose thelocation because of its ideal weather and stable air,the Papagos at first refused permission for use of theland. The frustrated scientists finally invited thetriba l leaders to inspect the small StewardObservatory on the Un iversity of Arizona campus innearby Tucson. A glimpse of the moon, magnifiedmany times throug h the Steward telescope,convinced the Indians, and a lease was granted.Though K itt Peak attracts 100,000 daytime visitorsa year, the real work is done at night. By sundown,after the visitors have departed, the day-sleepingscientists and technicians are eating "b rea kfa st"and think ing of tasks ahead. They must explore thetemperature of heavenly bodies, their direction andveloc ity, their mass, age, distance, and thecomposition of their atmospheres and inte riors. Onsuch knowledge depends our understanding of ourplace in the solar system and the un iverse.As daylight fades, the revolving domes rum bleinto position and the giant eyelids open to search thedarkened sky. No one worries, like Chicken Littl e,that the sky might fal l. But if it ever does, thevigila nt sc ientists at Kit t Peak wi ll be the first toknow and spread the alarm .Desert/May 1980

Opposite, top: MayaH's158-inch [4-mete r] tele-scope was the first to re-cord the mystery star Be-teiquese. Opposite, bot-tom: Heliostat on top ofMcMath Solar Telescopezaps the moon with laserbeams. Top: Photo showsonly half of the 500-footshaft of the McMath.Center: The Mayall is op-erated from this console.Left: Kitt's Peak does notlack for telescopes.

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WE RE JES T THE ONESTHAT CAN FINP IT. '-jpJAlSHIVERS. J

IT '5 NOT THE RI6HT KINP OFPLACE FOR A P 6 P I C A T E PPROSPECTOR LIKE ME TO WORK.. ....IT'S TOO C O M M E R C I A L /


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1 ----;

m

ULDER CITY:That D a m Ibwnary E. Squi&r


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B oulder City, Nevada, is atown that has a dam past, adam present, and a dam fu-ture. Some say it's the townthat built the dam; others in-sist that the dam built the town.They're both wrong. The dam andthe city were built the same way e-verything big and strong and last-ing gets built by hard workingmen and women.To build the dam, and for manyyears it was The Dam like thePyramid of the Sun was The Pyra-mid, took the best minds and thestrongest muscles. It also tookgreat vision, imagination, dedica-t i on , and desperat ion, becauseboth the dam and the city werebuilt during very desperate times,1931-36. Ten million people werelooking for work, looking for hope.The dam had to built, otherwiseyou could kiss the Imperial Valley

of Southern California goodbye be-cause in the winter of 1904-05 theColorado River went nuts and for16 months created havoc there,flooding thousands of acres of richfarmland, ripping up highways,threatening lives, and creating theSalton Sea. It took 26 years of plan-ning, testing, and politicking be-fore the first pick struck granite onthe Colorado River's Black Canyonwalls, and only the federal govern-ment could underwrite such an im-mense project.For the dam is monstrous. Youcan read about it and see picturesof it, but the scope of it is only t ru lyfelt when you stand on it, ride theelevator to its bottom, walk downits damp, echoing tunnels to tur-bine rooms the size of hangars,smell the power, feel its grace.The back-bending toil of longhours in unbearable heat and con-stant danger necessary to createthis Eighth Wonder of the Worldwas borne by thousands of menwho came to Boulder and foundwork, found a home, found hope.

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And they all lived in BoulderCity, the government town, theworking stiff 's town , and one of thefirst planned towns in the U.S. Themajor architect for the city wasS.R. De Boer who admired thework of Pierre L'Enfant, the de-signer of Washington, D.C. So DeBoer laid Boulder City out in arough diamond shape for 3,000people. The Bureau of Reclamationand other government buildingswere built of stone high on a hill atthe top of the diamond. The chiefengineers and administrators ofthe contractors, the Six Company,lived on stone-walled Denver andMt. View streets while the workerslived down the hill in flimsy three-room wooden houses propped upon stilts to keep most of the desertcritters out of their homes.The significant difference be-tween De Boer's town and L'En-fant's city is that in Boulder Cityeverybody worked. They couldn'tbuy a drink , gam ble, curse or sp it,but they could work. First theybuilt the town and paved the high-way to the dam site, then they bu iltthe dam. 99 men lost their livesduring the five years of construc-tion and contrary to rumor none areburied in the walls of the dam.Only the dam's mascot, " N i g , " isburied near the dedication monu-ment. The dam grew and the cityspread out according to plan. Hun-dreds of p roblems had to be solved,among them: how to cool five mil-lion barrels of cement so that itwould harden before the 21st cen-tury. The town had problems too.Hundreds who came for work butfound none pitched ten ts outside oftown, built shacks of tin cans, andwere treated like outsiders untilthey could get work and move intothe town when their time came. Atits largest, Boulder City had over10,000 people living inside thereservation connected to the dam.Desert/May 1980


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IF YDU MUSTUSCUSPIDD/t

The past is very present in Boulder City.Parks and churches were part of the first"planned" city in the U.S., as were widecity streets, city hall, and spittoons.

B ut by the time Franklin Roos-evelt said at the dam's dedi-cation that "this is an engin-eering victory of the first or-deranother great achieve-ment of American resourcefulness,skil l, and determination. This iswhy I congratulate you who havecreated Boulder Dam and on behalfof the nation say to you, 'Welldone'," the town's population hadalready begun to shrink and wentsteadily down until World War II,rejuvenating mining and chemicalplants in nearby Henderson, bigtime gambling in Las Vegas, andthe construction of large militarycamps nearby.Because Boulder City was still agovernment reservation, you couldnot buy land or a drin k, but it was apretty little town with tree-linedstreets and parks and just aboutthe perfect place to raise a familyafter the war. And the town had apurpose: the dam. It kept themhumm ing, kept them w orking.When Congress renamed Boul-der Dam to Hoover Dam in 1947,the people of Boulder City had achance to change their name, too.But they rejected the idea becausethe association of Hoover's namewith Hoovervilles (shanty towns),Hoover hogs ( jackrabbi ts) , andHoover blankets (newspapers) wasstill too strong. They were proud oftheir city and their dam, and theirquest for independence st ir redstrongly throughout the 1950s. OnJanuary 4, 1960, the home rulethey desired was granted. TheBureau of Reclamation turned over33 square m iles of houses, streets,sidewalks, parks and parkways,munic ipal water , e lect r ic , andsewer systems, equipment, andbuildings with an estimated valueof $10 million to the newly incor-porated city. Boulder City became

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like any other town in Nevada ex-cept you still couldn't buy a drink(you could by 1969), the edict a-gainst gambling was strictly en-forced, and they had the dam.By the 1970s the townspeoplehad built just about one of every-t h i n g : a ho sp ital, golf course,schools, a dozen churches, anairport, bank, library, cemetery, asenior citizens center, and a movietheater. They also had a doctor,dentist, shop owners, and a news-paper whose publ isher , MorryZennoff, won the Peter Zenger A-ward in 1974. There was strongcommunity spirit. If the peoplewanted a baseball diamond or abike path, they didn't go to city halland ask them to do it. The peoplepitched in and did it themselves.But as many small towns ex-perience, Boulder City also had adilemma: should the town capital-ize on its tourist attraction (over amillion people visit the dam eachyear) and encourage industry, de-velopment and growth or shouldit stay essen tially a clean li ttle towntown with definite boundaries? Theresidents were div ided. St rongfeelings were expressed by bothsides and the lines were bitterlydrawn. On July 3, 1979, after heat-ed meetings attended by hundredsof citizens, they voted in a control-led growth ordinance patternedafter the one in Petaluma, Califor-nia. No more building permitswould be issued.Today there's a movement tohave some of the original building sof the downtown area declared his-torial sites, and the town is a bitmore peaceful although somepeople still d on't talk to each o ther.But the people are friendly to visi-tors. They open their houses andtheir hearts to those who show aninterest in its dam history, and the

Top: Tom Bargiel and his family live inBoulder City, but he, like many otherresidents, wo rks in Las Vegas. Center:The town was a thriving railroad centerduring construction of the dam. Below:Bill Harbour, editor of Boulder City News,and Teddy Fenton, unofficial townhistorian, sit in front of Teddy'sthree-room house on "D" St., that wasbuilt in 1 931. The house has grown in 49years to 23 rooms and 7 baths.


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memories of its past are kept aliveby the "31ers" who get togethereach year and by people like TeddyFenton who has the town's mostcomplete scrapbook. She came toBoulder City in 1936 and has beencollecting m emorabilia ever since.B oulder City continues to be aworkingman's town. Govern-ment is still the largest em-ployer for men l ike D.Sullivan who works at thedam and others who are employedby the National Park Service or theBureau of Mines. For many others,who work in Las Vegas or Hender-s o n , Boulder City is a bedroomcommunity. Unemployment is low.So is the crime rate, although theold saying that you never have tolock your doors in Boulder City nolonger holds true. There arehousing tracts, apartments, condo-miniums, and townhouses. Theschools have broad curriculum anda good sports program. The drop-out rate is extremely low, andevening classes for adults are heldthroughout the year. You still can'tplace a bet inside the city limits,but it's not morals that keep gam-bling out. The people just don'twant the troub le it could bring.

Since 1963 they've had an out-door art festival in the fall that be-comes more successful each year,and there's expressed hope thatthe town will eventually have theatmosphere of an art colony. Youcan get a good cup of coffee at theBeanery, and on certain days theformer Navy cook who owns theCoffee Cup down the street servesthe best S.O.S. (chipped beef ontoast) in the West. There are com-fortable accomodations for the tra-veller and you can get a free drinkat Herb's Tavern any day the sundoesn't shine. If the urge to betyour month's salary becomes toostrong, you can always race up tothe Railroad Cross Casino a couplemiles out of town or beyond to LasVegas.Like almost every city its size inthe U.S., Boulder City's future isuncertain. The dilemma of its di-rection, although legally resolvedfor the time being, is very obvious-ly present: a community analysisfor business and industrial firmshas been published by the citymanager and the Chamber of28

F R E E IN F O R M K T I O N B U R E f tU . H O M E F f tR M P R O D U C t . Sn r% I O H f f i f f r 4 4 7 rT n f tM s i T c s a z F T

Top and Bottom: Power from the dam's seventurbines supp lies electricity to light the statesoi Nevada, California, and Arizona amon gothers. C ontracts with the dam expire in 1987and must be renegotiated. Center: Dam con-struction site store and entrepreneurs. Build-ing the dam gave people work when theyneeded it badly.


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Left: Inn was one of first buildings inBoulder City and has been a meeting placeever since. Below:The town was originallydesigned in the shape of a diamond. Gov-ernment offices were built at the top of therising slope. Bottom: Downton BoulderCity, 1980.

p h o to c o u r te s y U n i o n P a c i f i c R . R .

Commerce; one of the town'soldest buildings, the Boulder DamInn, was recently purchased by agroup headed by Senator McC orkleof Nevada with the intention of re-storing its unique qualities and at-tracting the tourist to its charm; thedesire for independent growth isopenly discussed; and an under-standing that this is not the goodguys against the bad guys seems tobe generally accepted.In practical terms the town has alot to do despite all that's beendone. They have to move their air-port because the pitch of the run-way is greater than the FAA willallow for commercial use. They'lla lso have to renegotiate theirpower contracts with the dam by1987 as will all util ity companieslike the states of Arizona andNevada, Southern California Edi-son, the City of Los Angeles De-partment of Water and Power, andthe cities of Glendale, Burbank,and Pasadena among many others.Everybody wants energy, but howwill it be distributed; who will getthe biggest jolt?But the dam is one thing certainabout Boulder City's future. It willprobably always be plugged intothe dam for its lights, its livelihood,its life, and its reason for living.Boulder Dam was built to last bypeople who knew that they wouldnot. The people of Boulder City arelucky to be hooked up to that kindof energy and should smile proudlywhen they're called that dam town.Desert /May 1980

m mm T U R N E R SND JUS TICE FOR ALL RCALIFORNIA SUITE PC


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FLASH30 Desert/May 1980


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EG INSBY G ene R. Russel lC overing one-third of San Diego County andparts of Riverside and Imperial Counties inSouthern California, the Anza-Borrego Desertis the vacation choice for about 1,000,000visitors each year. The count runs higher when

winter rains arrive at just the right time and in theproper amounts, because then the spring wildflowerdisplays there are among the most spectacular in theworld. These winter rains are comparatively gentleand are eagerly absorbed by the thirsty soil. Even attheir heaviest, they never match the violently de-structive, and potentially lethal downpours that aresuddenly dumped onto the desert from summerthunde rstorms. These create the flash flood .Spawned by tropical moisture from the Gulf of Ca-lifornia, summer storm clouds towering 20,000 feetor more move inland over the desert, and althoughsmall in comparison to their 60,000-foot relativesover the nation's mid-sec tion, pack a localized w allopthat is awesome.By August towering thunderheads are nudgingover the coastal ranges almost every afternoon.Flowing a deep fushia trimmed with highlights ofgold, these mountains of condensed water vapor lookdeceptively peaceful and serene as they billow andgrow overhead in the deepening twi light . Not so. Askthe Marine pilot who flew his propellor-driven air-craft into one of them over the southwest about 30years ago. He knows first-han d about thunderclouds.As the turbulance inside the cloud increased to thepoint where the plane actually began breaking uparound him, the pilot bailed out. But the forcesinside the cloud seized this tiny intruder and beganbuffeting him up and down through freezing rain andhail. When he finally fell out of the sky more deadthan alive, he was encased in ice and his parachutewas almost torn to shreds. Amazingly, he lived.The acre-feet of water one of these monsters candrop in the short span of an hour or two is simp ly un-believable. Falling on hard-baked soil or steep rockyterrain, the runoff from such a cloudburst (whichmay be that area's total yearly rainfall) is channeledinto washes that on ly moments before were sleeping ,parched, and dry. Suddenly they are awake, angry,and alive with action, running brim-full of churningFLOOD!

uddy water, tree limbs, uprooted cactus, boulders,and debris.This runoff roars down canyons and arroyos andout onto the desert lowlands. And at the head of thisflow is the strangest collection of sticks and stonesyou've ever seen. Looking much like a hastily builtand rather poorly designed beaver dam, it appears

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ITS ONLY W ARNING SOUNDsolid enough to walk on. This moving dam of debrisis forced downstream by the churning, roaring flood-waters directly behind it.The flash flood does not " fl o w " like a rain-swollenstream or river. It seems to have a mind and a heart-beat all its own. Throbbing and surging, great undu-lating swells raise the level of the flow from a foot orless to three feet or more in a split-second. Such asurge stranded Katherine Foley, an Anza-BorregoPark ranger, when she attempted to cross runoff inCarrizo W ash to aid a m otorist. Foley was lucky; herradio call for help brought rescuers after a terrify-ingly long wa it. Others have not been so fortunate .On July 20, 1979, a motorist was swept off C-78west of Ocotillo Wells about 5:30 a.m. His car wasfound three days later filled with sand a quarter-milefrom the highway. A sheriff's helicopter found hisdrowned body another mile-and-a-half down thewash. The nasty thing about flash floods is not onlytheir unpredictability, but the fact that they can raceout of canyons m iles from where they were born andstrike while you are standing in warm sunshineunder clear blue sky. Their speed is second only totheir destructiveness.Asked to explain when "heavy runoff" stoppedand a flash flood s tarted, Bud Getty, Manager of theAnza-Borrego Desert State Park, says: "I f you 'rewatching from a safe distance, it's runoff. If you'recaught in it, it's a flash flood!" But no one shouldever be caught in or surprised by a flash flood. Notunless they are stone deaf or riding in a vehicle withthe stereo turned up full blast and all the windowsclosed. A flash flood is, above all else, LOUD!On September 14, 1974, a light rain began fallingon the tiny town of Nelson's Landing along the west-ern shore of Lake Mojave about 40 miles southeast ofLas Vegas, Nevada. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. By2:22 p.m. over two inches of rain had drenched the22-square-mile watershed above Nelson's Landingand a flash flood had thundered through town killingnine people. A restau rant, five m obile homes, and 23boats disappeared and in their place was a fresh32

deposit of coarse gravel 15 feet deep.The climate and topography of Nelson's Landingare similar to many other areas in the southwesterndeserts, including Borrego Springsareas that arerapidly being built up by developers who evidentlyhave never heard of or seen a flash flood .The flood that raced out of Palm Canyon nearBorrego Springs the afternoon of August 16, 1979,was a small one as floods go. No one was killed andproperty damage was minimal. The potential for di-saster, tho ugh, was very real. That something majorwas brewing was plainly written in the sky above theSan Ysidro Mountains where the clouds had beentrying to cook up something for a week but hadn'tbeen quite able to get it togethe r. The deep plum co-lor at the base of the cumulonimbus cloud was oneindicator. Another was the ominous rumblings ofthunder. Great plumes of water could be seen fallin gin the headwaters of the canyons west of BorregoSprings. FLASH FLOOD might just as well havebeen painted on the cloud in big red letter. A nd I wasgoing to photograph it!"All photographers are slightly crazy," an editorat the San D iego Tribune once said, and I must admitI wanted a series of flash flood photographs so badlythat it might well have clouded my judgement. I hadactually needed such a series of color slides (not justone snapshot) several months ea rlier when assembl-ing the multi-image audio-visual show for the newAnze-Borrego Visitor Center. The series was not a-vailable and I swore that the next time one wasneeded, I was going to have it on f i lm. So, off I wentwith the motor-driven Nikon, a 24mm Nikkor wide-angle lens, Kodachrome 64 f i lm, and a great deal ofenthusiasm.It was 4 p.m. The immediate problem was choos-ing just which canyon " m y " flood was going to comedown. The cloud was so large that it covered the up-per reaches of three canyonsHellhole, Palm, andHenderson. Henderson Canyon had already beenthoroughly clobbered when a similar storm sneakedin ahead of Hurricane Doreen in 1977. Surely a floodDesert/May 1980


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IT'S CO MING . . .wouldn't strike twice in the same place. Once mychoice was narrowed to two, it wa sn't hard to make adecision. The only way into Hellhole Canyon is towalk and Palm Canyon has a paved road all the waythrough the State Park campground to the foot of anature t rai l . I'm not against walking but time wasrunning out. If the expected flow started much laterit would be too dark for photographs, so Palm Can-yon it was.Leaving the car on a rise, I set up the tripod next tothe streambed at campsite No. 99. Sure enough, alight rain started falling. Everything was going ac-cording to plan. It was 4:20 p.m . when I took the firstshot of the dry, sandy streambed of Palm Creek.Large raindrops were falling now but instead of in-creasing in intensity as expected, the rain stoppedjust before 5:00 p.m. and the air was deceptivelycalm. There was still not so much as a trickle of waterin the wash. I was disappointed and it seemed to beclearing back in the mountains too. There was not abreath of wind.I hiked dejectedly up the streambed, leaving thecamera equipment in place. I hadn't given up entire-ly. Not far from campsite 99 the stream makes a turn,wanders across an alluvial fan, and then climbs intothe canyon beyond. I rounded the bend and hikedfurthe r upwash. It was easy walking in the sandy bedwhich was still damp from the rain shower. The onlysound other than my crunching footsteps was the fa-ding roar of a jet fly ing so high and so fast that it wasalready out of sight. Strange, I thought, but that jetsounds a little w eird . In fact, instead of getting faint-er it was getting louder, but I still could not locate thejet overhead.Suddenly a tiny bell went off in my head. That wasno jet! The sound wasn't even coming from the sky.It was coming down Palm Canyon and was headedright for me! I began running back downstreamtowards the camera and safety. As I rounded thebend I slowed enough to risk a quick glance back.The increasing roar left no doubt I was about to beswallowed alive by this monster snapping at myDesert/ May 1980

heels, but there was nothing in sight. At thatmoment if I had had to guess what was coming at medown the tiny creekbed, I would have guessed arunaway freight train with square wheels.Reaching the camera, dripping with perspirationand out of breath, I had only time to check the lightlevel (which had dropped to one-half its former in-tensity) and start shooting as the head of the runoffslid into view around the bend. It was 5:20. My heartwas pounding and I was thankful that the camera,purring away at 1 8 second at f/8, was held firmly inplace by the tripo d. My w hole body was shaking. Theground was trembling too as if it knew from pastexperience what was about to happen.As the runoff moved closer I was not aware of thetremendous mass of water pushing the ugly brushpile downstream. The roar was deafening. Each timethe wall of muddy, churning water trapped behindthe head of the flow reached a low spot in the bank oneither side of the stream, great silt-laden arms ofwater would shoot out im patien tly around and past itwith almost soft, "wooshing" sounds. These off-shoots weren't deepless than a footbut theymoved so quickly and so effortlessly around and overevery obstacle in their path that the visual effect wasalmost hypnotic.

When the front edge of the flow reached the tripo dlegs, some 12 seconds from the tim e I first sighted it,I knew for certain that this was not "he avy runo ff."This was a fullfledged flash flood! For the first timemy excitement turned to cold, absolute fear. One ofthe offshoots raced to my left. In two seconds it cutme off from the car and was rushing right throughthe campsite and splashing over the picnic table.Brush and debris was piling up against the car'swheels. A few more seconds and it would be washeddownstream.Now was the time to move and move fast. I moved!Tripod in hand and heart in mou th, I stepped into theshallow water. At least it looked like water, but it feltmore like liquid sandpaper. Rocks the size of fistspounded my shins. I couldn't keep my footing and I

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1 *+. . . IT'S HERE!fel l. I had but two tho ugh ts: 1) get the he ll out of hereand 2) keep the camera and its precious film dry.Neither was easy. I scrambled out I ike a three-leggeddog, somehow holding the tripod clear. Fortunately,I was able to move the car to safety before a surgecould carry car, camera, and one rather soggy photo-grapher all downstream at once. Fortunately too, noone else was there to witness the rather battered andsheepish (but happy) photographer who slippedquietly out of Palm Canyon Campground and hometo shower, bandage his bleeding legs, and send offone exposed roll of film for processing.In its upper reaches, Palm Creek normally flows atabout two or three cubic-feet per second, creatingsparkling w aterfalls among the fan palms and bou ld-ers before slipping quietly underground and flowingeast towards the Borrego Sink. What I had just es-caped came charging out of the canyon at a thousandtimes that 3,000 cub ic-feet per second as measuredby the U .S. Coast and Geodetic Survey!Dow nst ream , a rock reta in ing wal l recent lycompleted with U.S. Soil Conservation District fundsfor $38,000 simply disappeared, its rocks and steelmesh ripped loose and deposited unceremoniouslyalong with another 30,000 cubic yards of silt anddebris in a catch basin just upstream from the plushDe Anza Country Club. Palm Creek ran deep andmuddy for several days. The huge boulders rollingaround beneath the survace like so many marblesmade a noise like a giant grind ing his teeth . Take alook at some of the boulders the next time you hikeup the Palm Canyon Nature Trail. Imagine the forcenecessary to move one. Look too at the uprootedpalm trees. And should it be summertime, keep yourears o pen.All the potential for another Nelson's Landingdisaster is still present, not only in SouthernCalifornia but in areas all over the Southwest wheremore and more developers and individu al owners arebu ilding on the floors of canyons.

i

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. . . IT ENDS.

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photo by E. J . Tyler


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f S S t

Story-ana'Photos by BuddyNoonan


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"There's an old ghost town up there," BridgeportHistorical Society president Art Webb said, pointingto Patterson Peak high up in California's Sierra Ne-vada range. "It took me years to locate but once Idid, I couldn 't find any solid information on it. It 's aplace called Boulder Flat, and to my knowledge itshistory remains a mystery to this da y."Needless to say, we left Bridgeport in Art's four-wheel drive truck the following week. As a note ofprecaution, this trip should not be attempted by anyvehicle other than four-wheel drive, nor probably byindividuals with cardiac problems. Also, be sure togas up and take along plenty of f i lm, water, ice, food,and emergency supplies. And too, a CB radio couldbe essential in the event of a breakdown. Let some-one know where you're going and when you expect toreturn. The sheriff's office in Bridgeport will assistyou. Finally, the trip can be completed only in sum-mer months after heavy Sierra snows have thawed.Driving north on C-182 (or Sweetwater CanyonRoad as it's known locally) from Bridgeport for 19miles brought us to the Sweetwater Ranch in Neva-da. Turning left here for 1.2 miles led to a junction.Keep to the left for 1.0 miles to the cattle gate. Afterentering and re-closing it as the sign requests, con-tinue 2.7 miles to another fork. The road to the rightwi ll take you to Star City, 1.4 miles d istant, but don 'tplan to stock up on any provisions there because StarCity, like all of the other places you'll encounter, isno more than a deserted ghost camp. Now back inCalifornia you start up the steep incline, rea'izingwhy four-wheel drive is mandatory. Sharp cliffs tcthe right and sheer drops to the left border thenarrow but fortunately, seldom traveled road.Fina lly, and perhaps to your reliefs the road w ill openonto a level butte. This is the site of Star City, Abooming gold town of the 1880s.The heartbeat of Star City was the ThorobraceMine, first worked in 1884. However, complicationsencountered when the miners struck water possiblyspelled her doom. Al! that the state mineralogist(circa 1890) notes in his report is: "At present workon this claim is suspended. This lode is reported tobe a strong one, but its width not ascertained ." W asthe main lode ever exhausted or does it still remainfor someone fortunate enough to find it? Whatever,there isn't much left above ground today, just over-grown roads checkerboarding what once was a thriv-ing town. W ild "Mo rmon Te a" abound everywherecrowding the few remaining rock foundations. Incontrast, a jet stream tra ils in the skies overhead.Continuing up the main road for 0.3 miles bringsyou to another fork . Keep to the righ t for the final lapto Boulder Flat. Now the road becomes even morenarrow and your climb is complicated by shale androck. Occasional dropouts on the shoulder challengeyour judgement. And, as you look down 1,500 feetbelow, you realize you've passed the point of no re-turn. Then, 1.8 miles later, just about when you'vehad enough of this , the road widens at 9,000 fee t, re-vealing an oasis. There, framed by lush pines, are

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the historic buildings of Boulder Flat.All history records is that gold was mined here inthe 1800s. The details of who discovered it and anyrecord of the boom that followed have all been lostdown through the years. It's not even known for surethat the town's name was Boulder Flat. Historians,not the residents, named it that for the rockymeadow in which it is located.But there they stand, several sturdy structures, anepitaph to another era. Closer inspection doesn't re-veal many clues. The largest building was obviouslya "chop house" (cafe) and hotel. Inside are the re-mains of a huge old stove. Nearby, time eroded andtwisted stairs lead to an upper floor which has longsince collapsed. Outside, many more buildings liefallen in on their founda tions, victims of heavy Sierrablizzards and vandals. In contrast, a forest of the ol-dest living things on earth, bristlecone pines (Pinustarriannis, many 4,600 years old), shade the fallenstructures. Then nearby, deer hunters have added amore contemporary shack onto one of the town'solder homes. A mile further up "Main Street" re-veals a miner's cabin next to the road. Built hereprobably because his claim was nearby or because hewished to reside "out of town," the shack was con-structed from the gnarled and ancient bristlecones.Now, as day ended, fingers of lengtheningshadows criss-crossed the town's center, seeming todeepen its mystery. Occasional flurries of eveningwinds rustled leaves on trees overhead. There wasno life except for a few chipmunks who scolded usfrom their hiding places under the boardwalks. Inyour imagination you try to people a place like this.What was it like a century ago? Was the main goldstrike a big one or just a flash in some promoter'span? Did anyone take the time to photograph Bould-er Flat while it lived or did man's greed precludebothering with such trivial things? Then, as yourimagination reaches out even further, you realizethat it has nowhere to go. Those who settled BoulderFlat left too few clues, only the warped shells ofbuild ings they once called home.As Art manuevered his truck down the steep hair-pin turns of the old gold road, the ghost town h igh a-bove disappeared from view. It had been anextremely rewarding t rip but I knew I would never goback. Most travel films end with the narrator sayinghow much he wants to return one day. It wasn 't likethat for me and Boulder Flat. Yes, the ghost townwas striking and the scenery magnificent. But thejourney over hazardous roads to get there? Thrilling.A lit t le too thril l in g.Much is known about most ghost towns even whenthey 've been obliterated down to the last square nail.Boulder Flat isn't like that at all. The core of it stillremains standing, but very little is known. Maybesomeday, someone will stumble onto an old scrap-book, document or relic which could shed some lig ht.Then, perhaps, we could fill in a lost episode of ourrich western history. Until that time she'll remain amystery...the mystery of Boulder Flat.

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~Z)SH*L ROCKHOUNDCollecting Sites Update: The fa-mous Apache tear caves west ofSuperior, Arizona, no longer allowcollecting inside the caverns, dueto the danger of being hit by fallingdebris. Collectors are, however,allowed to search through thefreshly graded areas surroundingthe caves. This method is not asexciting as being able to pluck thetears from their place in the walls,but it is far more productive. It iseasy to collect a full gallon of topquality Apache tears in about 30minutes. The fee is only $1 perperson, per gallon, and the sizesrange from very small to over threeinches in diameter.

Outstanding barite specimenscan be found in a little known areajust east of Rincon, New Mexico.They are found on the walls ofmany of the abandoned quarries inthe area. I have been able to collectcrystals of a quality that is as goodor better than any found for sale in

by James R. M itchell

MUSEUMOF THEHORSE, INC.

Six exhibit halls dedicated to thehorse. From early Greek tomodern times .Or ig ina l Remingtons, Russel lbronze, one of four Kachinachess sets in the w orld , westerntreasures valued at $1,000,000.Fine Indian crafts for sale in giftshop. Just 60 miles south ofTucson on S-83 in historicPatagonia, Arizona.Open daily 9 to 5.Your host: Anne Stradling.

rock shops. It is exciting to splitcracks in the walls of the quarry,often opening cavities filled withperfectly formed barite crystals,some measuring up to an inchacross. Be sure to check on the ow-nership status of any quarry youwant to explore. Many of them areabandoned, but some are still pri-vately owned .Fluorescent Mineral Enthusiasts:Recently I have become fascinatedwith fluorescent minerals and en-joy being able to hunt rocks, notonly in the day but now, also, atnight. This adds a completely newdimension to my trips. If you tooshare this interest, you might beinterested to know that there is aFluorescent Mineral Society basedin Pasadena, Calif., with membersfrom around the w orld. The societyputs out a bi-monthly newsletterwhich is very informative. Annualmem bership fees are $7.50 for U.S.and Canada, and $9.50 for overseasmembers. For more information,write Paul Morris, Executive Sec-retary, 713 Kentucky St. #2, Val-lejo, CA94590.Faceting Classes: I was recentlyadvised that Mr. Earl Montgom-ery, inventor of the AmericanFacetor, will be moderating classesin beginning, intermediate, andadvanced facet ing. These pro-grams begin in May, 1980. Formore information contact AnthonyGeonnotti, Jr., ARG Sales Co.,1550 Bridgewater Road, CornwellsHts., PA 19020.Museums: The Fort Worth Mu-seum of Science and History hasjust added an amazing display toits Rocks and Fossils exhibition. Itis a rotating Rand McNally geo-physical relief globe, the largestever made. It is a spectacular exhi-bit and fascinating to inspect. Ifyou are in the area, I recommendyou take the time to see this colos-sal globe, as well as the rest of thefine displays.Shows: The South Bay Lapidaryand Mineral Society will hold their31st annual "Nature's Treasures"show on April 19 and 20 at theTorrance Recreation Center in Tor-

38

ranee, California. It will feature thegiant, award-winning, 260-poundcrystal-filled geode cut and polish-ed by Ron Wood .Unpatented Mining Claimholders:All unpatented mining claims onpublic land must be recorded withthe BLM. If such recording is notdone within 90 days of the date oflocation, the claim may be invalid-ated. For more information contactthe BLM office nearest you.Final Thought: In recent monthsthere has been a recorded reduc-tion in the number of people visit-ing the desert. This, I am sure, islargely due to the skyrocketingcosts of gasoline and other sup-plies. City dwellers are travelingless frequently but, that may not bebad. I, for one, now plan my es-capes to the isolated beauty of thedesert more carefully, and lookforward to them with more enthu-siasm, anticipation, and apprecia-tion than ever before.Monthly Photo Contest RulesEach month Desert magazine

awards $25 for the best black andwhite photograph submitted. Sub-jects must be desert-related. Wewant to give each winning photo-graph enough room so our winnerfor May is on page 57. Oh yes, toall Hasselblad owners we apologizefor the misspelling. Nobody's per-fekt.HERE ARE TH E RULES

1. Prints must be B&W, 8X10,glossy.2. Contest is open to amateur andprofessional. Desert requiresfirst publication rights

Documents

198005 Desert Magazine 1980 May