by A.E. Ensign, Federal Writers Project, Yavapai County c. 1935

"Note: The following is from the pen of Sharlot M. Hall, historian, writer, and curator of Sharlot Hall Museum. Its value rests upon the fact that she is the only living writer who can tell, from first-hand knowledge, the more intimate details of the history of Arizona’s first ‘Gubnatorial Mansion.’"

"On February 24th, 1863, President Lincoln signed a bill creating the Territory of Arizona and later appointed a set of territorial officers. The most important change made in this list was caused by the death of Governor John Gurley only a short time before the party was ready to start for Arizona. John N. Goodwin was appointed Governor and continued the preparations which Governor Gurley had made for the long trip.

The party started from Cincinnati, Ohio, traveling by way of the Ohio River, the Mississippi and the Missouri until they finally reached Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, on the bank of the Missouri River. Here they were given traveling wagons and government freight transports and also a convoy of troops for protection on the march. They were about three months on the trip and marched from military post to post, sending back the troops that had previously been their guard. After reaching New Mexico there were no roads over which they could enter Arizona, except the outline of the survey made by Lieutenant Beale in the 1850s. From New Mexico they were accompanied by New Mexico volunteer soldiers and followed the route now used by the Santa Fe Railroad for the most part. From where Flagstaff now stands they turned southward into the region which was known to be occupied by some groups of placer gold miners from California, who exploring the country in hopes of finding a new placer region which might prove as rich as northern California. General Carleton, who was the Commander of the military division of the southwest, had in the previous November sent a small body of troops into the northern part of Arizona to learn what they could of these explorations.

President Lincoln had left the new Governor free to select a location for his first capital, but is was generally decided to locate somewhere in this mining region, which had previously been unexplored. General Carleton felt that somewhere in what is now Yavapai County would be the logical location for the first capitol. The Governor and his party stopped at a very large spring in Chino Valley, where the New Mexico soldiers had been in camp during the winter and from here he sent out scouts in various directions to learn of the country. The miners were mostly on Lynx Creek in the little mountain park where Prescott now stands.

One of the most interesting memories was recorded by Charles Genung, who came to Arizona from San Francisco a few weeks before the Governor arrived and who, coming up from Walnut Grove and crossing in search of food supplies to the Governor’s encampment, watched the party coming across to their location in Prescott. The tall grass of Lonesome Valley half hid the traveling wagons and riders on horseback and as they wound down through the pines and encamped on what is now the Plaza, they were the first white men, except Pauline Weaver and his trappers, to make permanent camp in the region, for the California miners had traveled about as their prospecting made necessary.

The Governor brought with him a very large flag which had been given to Governor Gurley and which had lain across Governor Gurley’s coffin at his funeral in Cincinnati. A tall pine tree had been brought down from the mountains to the location of the camp in Chino Valley and this was brought over to Prescott and set up on the Plaza. The big flag floating in the wind was to guide the miners who were trying to find the party of the new Governor.

Settlers had joined the Governor’s party in Colorado where a mining boom had proven of little value and most of the wagons stopped on the Plaza. The soldiers with their outfits and supplies stopped still further out, where Whipple Hospital now stands. The Governor, however, was better pleased with the western bank of Granite Creek and selected a little jutting hilltop. To this he had his one outfit taken, it being necessary to cut his way through the thick willows on Granite Creek. Here he encamped under the trees where Captain Pauline Weaver had had his little summer camp for several years and as soon as the pine forest could be explored, the outing of logs begun for the building of the new Capitol. At this time there were no openings or roadways, so the logs had to be dragged in by log chains and, for the most part, dragged by yokes of oxen or teams of mules. Some of the logs in the old building still show the marks of these log chains around them. The Arizona Miner in early June of 1864 carried a request for a bid for the construction of the building. It was granted to a group of men which included John Raible, Dan Hatz and Van C. Smith, and just after the 4th of July celebration in 1864, the work began. It went somewhat slowly because tools were not especially plentiful and were loaned from one group to another. When the Governor’s home was ready for the roof it was found that the money allotted for the building had given out and Secretary McCormick had to stretch his authority a little and appropriate a larger fund for the purchase of shakes, which were split in the forest within a short distance of where the building now stands. The building was roofed and ready so that they could move in at the end of September when the first legislature was about to meet.

There was no means of cutting lumber except by hand with the whipsaws and so flooring was not considered, but enough lumber was whipsawed to make a ceiling, leaving a low loft overhead. This loft was reached by a ladder and a trap door and became the sleeping room of guests in Prescott, and especially of members of the first Legislature.

When the legislature began its first session at the end of September, 1864, the building which had been started for a capitol was not yet completed. It had not been chinked and there were no window, shutters or doors. Storms came early and rain and snow beat in so that soon the members of the legislature moved over to the Governor’s big comfortable front room and there many sessions of the legislature were held.

The home of the Governor was the largest house in Prescott and the life of the entire community centered there. The military commander lived there with the Governor for more than a year and around the fireplace in the big room were discussed the campaigns against the Indians and the means to be taken for the protection of the little community. Here came the miners when any discoveries were made or when gold was to be shipped to the coast or when new prospecting trips were to be outfitted and protected. There the social life of the little town centered and the Thanksgiving and Christmas festivals were held, and to these everyone in the entire community was welcome. The first year, there was no Christmas tree, but there was a feast which lasted as long as anyone came in to sit down to the table and by the second Christmas there was a tree.

Since there were no women in the family it was found convenient to keep one half of the house for the Governor’s office, this being the room on the right hand side, and around this fireplace were discussed all of the events which went to the building of the new Territory. When the capitol was moved to Tucson in 1867, the old house was left in the care of the private secretary of the first governor, Henry Fleury. No titles had been obtained to land because at this time there was no surveying of land in Arizona, but Secretary McCormick and Governor Goodwin had made an entry in the Land Office of New Mexico, which was the nearest, for an entire section of land. However, in later years Judge Fleury obtained title to only about a half section and later part of this became the town site of West Prescott. Even when the capitol was removed to Tucson, the big log house remained the center for the life of the community. Judge Fleury was for many years Justice of the Peace, at times Probate Judge, and court was held in the rooms which had been the Governor’s office, and here discussions of the life of the community continued. Visiting lawyers were entertained beside the old fireplace and when the capital returned to Prescott in 1877, though the old house was no longer used as the Governor’s home or as his office; it was the informal capitol of Arizona. Mr. Fleury moved in with the first governor at the end of September, 1864, and spent only three nights out from under the roof of this house, where he died in September of 1895. After his death the house passed into other ownership, until finally Joe Daughtery of Prescott bought the old building and the land surrounding it.

It is to Tony Johns that we owe the permanent preservation of the first capitol of Arizona. After a visit to England, which renewed Mr. Johns’ appreciation of the historical objects in the little village where he was born, he returned to Prescott with the feeling that this house in which the life of Arizona had its beginning should be preserved. It was through his efforts that the legislature made the appropriation which purchased the building with the intention that it should be used as a museum and permanently preserved. It was not so easy to realize the purpose of the appropriation and the building was unoccupied for several years, until Sharlot Hall, who had the largest private collection in the state, was made free by the death of her parents to consider the use of the old capitol. Miss Hall moved her own collection there and at her own expense began the restoration of the building. It was her wish that everything she had collected, and that which might be added to her collection, should remain in this building and never be taken away from Prescott. It was not her intention to make a museum, in the ordinary sense, but rather to gather and preserve everything obtainable which related to the early life of Arizona. Not so much the Indian relics of prehistoric times, but those things connected with the actual settlers of the region, and everything which had been made and used by the white settlers of Arizona. This purpose has been continued, addition has been made to the collection from time to time, sometimes by loan or gift; a library based upon Miss Hall’s personal collection has been enlarged from time to time, and the work of safeguarding objects of historical value connected with the founding of Arizona has been continued. The museum has been open to visitors at all times, especially to schools and school children.

Through the Federal Relief Projects a second building has been secured, a fireproof building of stone, with a vault for the security of valuable objects and room for further display, which was not possible in the older building. Work is still in progress and the collection is being sorted, labeled and catalogued. The historical objects themselves will, for the most part, remain in the older building, where these things from the old homes and cattle ranges seem peculiarly at home. Books, manuscripts, pictures and all burnable objects will be placed in the stone house. The grounds are being developed in harmony with the original idea, not landscaped but kept in accord with earlier days. The old logs which were built into the first little log building that stood on the site of Prescott, have been moved from the original location and are being replaced on the ground exactly as they stood for so many years. A special mining exhibit is being planned, as well as an exhibit which will include both early mining machinery and the farming machinery used often and made on the early ranches. This little museum is entirely of and for Arizona, and has no ambition to obtain relics from outside the State, although there are many interesting things that were brought by early settlers coming from elsewhere. It is open the year round and visitors are always welcome."

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(po0168.3pc)
Reuse only by permission.

Sharlot Hall in front of the Governor’s Mansion, c. 1930

Skull Valley, Kirkland area knew how to throw a party

Article submitted by Nancy Burgess

(This article first appeared in the Prescott Herald in 1903 and was later reprinted in the December 23, 1949 Prescott Evening Courier.)

Christmas was celebrated by the people of Skull Valley and the Kirkland section Friday night by a big ball given in the school house two miles below the eating house at Skull Valley. People were there from all over that section and the affair was one of the most pleasant we have ever attended. Our readers have doubtless heard of "hog-killing times;" well, that was one, if there ever was one.

The Herald man and wife went down on the freight, arriving at Skull Valley, where they stayed until time to go to the dance. They were met there by Joe Rudy, at whose solicitation the trip was made, and taken to the schoolhouse in a light vehicle. Arrived there it was nothing but one continuous round of pleasure, lasting until the return trip was made the following afternoon in the friendly freight.

The musicians, who went from Prescott, arrived a little late for the people of that section, who begin to dance early and quit early – in the morning. Until the arrival of the music those on the outside, around the big campfire, amused themselves with several dog fights, in which the white dog always came off victorious. Of course there were no ladies outside, for ladies of the place would not witness a dog fight. At last the "fiddler" hove in sight astride his fast horse and everything went well. The dancing commenced before nine o’clock, which is very late for the Skull Valley and Kirkland people to start the hop.

The affair was given by big A. J. Stapp, one of the most popular young men of the valley, who had rather dance than to eat, and he is an eater with a record, of which we will testify for we watched him stow away cake when that part of the program was announced. He calls for all dances, and inevitably dances while calling. He is an expert caller and goes at it in the good old ways, not often encountered nowadays. One of his favorite sets started off in this manner: "Swing your partner like swinging on the gate; swing them around and pull your freight," meant to "grand right and left." All the time he called he sung the words, keeping time with toes and heels. That man, Stapp, is a whole show all by himself. He has many friends and is considered an honest, hard working young man. He is now building a new house, and when completed, Stapp will never live in it alone, for a certain pretty girl, Miss Annie Bently, stepdaughter of William Brophy, section foreman at Skull Valley, will occupy it with him. It is an open secret that they will be married within the next thirty days. They are both excellent young people and have the best wishes of the community in their coming wedding.

Just as usual, we have wandered wide of the subject, but will get back again. Although the schoolhouse is small, the floor was in fair condition for dancing, and the round dances were hugely enjoyed. The round dances came every other dance, as quadrilles were in demand. The violinists were allowed very little time for resting, as the dances were announced in quick succession. Several pounds of candles, apparently, were whittled on the floor to keep it smooth. The desks had been arranged around the room on both sides for seats, all of which were filled so many people were there.

At midnight the fiddlers closed their tunes and all enjoyed lunch. The big stove had been utilized for boiling the coffee, which had been put on to boil at 11 o’clock in two coal oil cans. The aroma from the boiling coffee had made everyone good and anxious to test its flavor. When getting the coffee out to put in the cans we heard Stapp tell one of the assistant cooks to "put in lots and make her good and strong." "She" was "good and strong," all right, and very richly flavored. When all was ready for the feast, a boy passed the tin cups, made from condensed milk cans, around in a flour sack, each person diving into the sack for a cup. There were plenty cups for everyone. The coffee, milk and sugar were served by boys, who went around with the different articles. Then came the sandwiches in big platters. Cake of several varieties followed, each cake better than the former. The boys kept coming until the benches were piled with cake and other good things. Stapp passed the pickles around in a bucket, from which the succulent relishes were taken by means of the blade of a pocketknife. That lunch was enjoyed as much as any lunch could have been under any circumstances. There was an abundance of everything. Mr. Stapp is a famous provider. Good thing he has had so much practice, for he will soon have a better opportunity to provide.

After lunch the dancing was started up again and merry feet beat time on the floor until five o’clock in the morning. Every person in the room had a fine time. Jokes were passed back and forth the whole time. Not a thing came up to mar the pleasure of the night. We have attended hundreds of dances, both in cities and in the country, but can truthfully say that we never attended one where everything passed off nicer than the one at Skull Valley. The people there are hospitable and jolly and believe in having fine times among themselves. We were most hospitably treated and received many kind invitations to visit with the people in the valley. Some day we shall take pleasure in accepting some of the invitations.

Reporter’s Notes:

Van Dickson, the expert on ropeology, was one of the chief gents at the dance. He seemed to be a favorite with the ladies and swung them around in so poetical a manner that these few lines suggested themselves to the writer:

In the quadrille, how old Dickson

Went hog wild with pure delight,

As he swung the laughing maidens

First to left and then to right.

Up and down, like a jack-knife,

Dickson’s legs would seem to go;

Beating jig time on the beeswax

First with heel and then with toe.

Van was surely a "corkerino" and was at that dance for pure enjoyment. The ladies were given an opportunity several times to choose their partners and as many as seven would take after Van at once. Nor more than six ever took after the Herald man at one time that he can remember anything about. Possibly his diminutive size and quiet manners kept him in the background.

Joe Rudy behaved himself pretty well, although he indulged in flirting a little more than was necessary. He was neck and neck with Bert Jackson for the favors of a certain young belle. It is hard to tell which of the two will win out. Bert says that there is nothing to it but him, but Joe thinks differently. Each has his rope ready to throw on the prize at any time the opportunity presents itself.

Grant Carter was not dancing every dance, but lost no time in telling some big stories to several of the boys from Williamson Valley. He said that he had about the finest hogs at his place ever raised in the world, and to prove it said that one of them weighed 2300 pounds at the age of six months. Grant really believes that he raised that hog. He went home pretty early for his wife was there and would not allow him to get too fresh with the girls.

Charley Evans, the butcher, was there with both feet. He engaged two young ladies for every dance and then had a hard time to clear himself or to get partners toward the end of the night. He rolled them high and never missed but one dance, and that was the one after supper. He had eaten so much he could not walk, to say nothing of dance. Mrs. Evans had lots of trouble with him all night.

The music was furnished by George Crose and son, Howard, of Prescott, and was as good as a person would want to dance to. They were kept going all night. The instruments were violin and organ.

Bert Ehle was there with both feet when anything was going on out of the usual. If he missed any dances it was because he could not catch a lady.

Those present were: Messrs. and Mesdames Chas. Evans, Chas. Miller, Chester Stapp, Joe Dickson, Tom Howell, Grant Carter, J.R. Caldwell and D.D. McDonald; Mesdames John Dickson, Wm. Cooper, M. B. Langley and Rachael Miller; Misses Annie Bentley, Clara Dickson, Maud Robinson, Hattie Koontz, Cressie Chart, Nellie Marlow, Dave and Lillie Miller; Messrs. Bert Jackson, Chas. Young, Jake Koontz, Van Dickson, W. F. Stapp, Bert Ehle, Ernest Marlow, O. Ansley, Wm. Dickson, Duff Dickson, John Maison, Aaron Stull, Roy Redding, Robert Dickson, Harry Dickson, Fred Miller, Herb and James Cook.

Notes of the Trip:

During the time we were in the Skull Valley and Kirkland section we learned many things of interest to our readers. Christmas was observed fittingly everywhere we went and signs of the good times were evident on every hand.

At Skull Valley Station, where the railroad men eat their dinner, we were very hospitably entertained by Mrs. Wm. Brophy and her daughter, Miss Annie Bentley. Mrs. Brophy’s three children, Frank, Tina and Edward, had a pretty little Christmas tree trimmed and filled with little presents standing in one corner of the dining room. In the evening the dozen little wax candles were lit and the tree shone forth in a most cheerful manner. Santa Claus did not appear in person, but sent his agents ahead with presents for the little folks. A splendid dinner was served at the house that day. Mr. Brophy stands well with the railroad people and is considered a good road builder and repairer.

At Kirkland, the people had spent Christmas as American people love to do. There was a Christmas tree at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Kuns, given in honor of their little daughter, Edith, who is 6 years of age. The Earnharts, Platts and Mrs. Collins and little daughter were at the celebration. Old Santa remembered all of them and they went home feeling happier than if they had not enjoyed the tree. He was not there in person, because the rats had chewed up his wig and he would not go before the people without the usual facial adornment. All of the Kirkland people were remembered by Santa as far as we could learn. Another tree was held at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Belknap, in honor of their son Carroll, who is going on 12 years of age. All who were there enjoyed it very much. There was a magic lantern exhibition at the Kuns residence before the distribution of presents.

There is an excellent school at Kirkland, presided over by Miss Inez B. Fisher, who is a most successful teacher. There are now 18 children who attend regularly; a short time ago there were 23.

We were hospitably entertained at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Evans, near Kirkland. The entertainment was a little too hospitable, for such a nice breakfast was provided by Mr. and Mrs. Charley we could not tear ourselves away in time to catch the morning passenger, therefore did not get back until later in the afternoon on the freight, which was several hours late.

The whole trip was most pleasant, and will always be remembered with pleasure. We met none but nice people and were treated royally.

(Nancy Burgess is the City of Prescott Historic Preservation Specialist.)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(pb146f7i4)
Reuse only by permission.

In this 1895 picture, George Crose and his family look too small to pick up the instruments, but by 1903, George and his son, Howard, supplied the music for Skull Valley’s festive Christmas which included story telling, eating, dancing and a little courting. In this photograph from left, George holding son George, Clarence, Howard, Otis and Jesse.

by A.E. Ensign, Yavapai County

J.H. Ehle, rewrite, Federal Writers Project c. 1935

The following account continues our series of stories written by the Federal Writers Project of the Works Progress Administration of depression era Arizona. The story was based on an oral history interview of Skull Valley ‘old timer’ Joe Farrell (as is noted later in the text) as told to the FWP workers.

Skull Valley’s old-timers tell, with much gusto, of an incident, which emphasizes the inadvisability of too close questioning, particularly when the one questioned happens to be of Hibernian extraction. As the story goes, William Howard Taft, while campaigning for the Presidency, addressed the citizens of Skull Valley from the rear platform of his special train. During the course of his remarks, his eyes wandered to the sign, "Skull Valley," posted on the roof of the little depot. At the close of his talk he asked one of the gathering, Joe Farrell the section boss, how the place got its gruesome name. Joe informed him that it was because the first white settlers found skulls there. Mr. Taft was then unwise enough to ask, "What kind of skulls?" "Indian skulls," replied Joe.

"Ah-ka-ma-nah" – valley of skulls – is what the Yavapai Indians have called it for the past century or more. And among the scant remnant of that once numerous tribe their are today a few that heard the story of its naming direct from the lips of those who took part in the battle which has furnished, down to the present time, Skull Valley with its most certain crop-skulls. Ploughing-time down there means, among other things, grave-exhuming time – the annual harvesting of dead men’s bones. And the supply of these grisly evidences of that sanguinary encounter of long ago appear to be inexhaustible.

At that time, according to Indian tradition, there was a great famine in the land of the Yavapais, and many of them died of starvation resulting from the prolonged drought. Season followed season without a drop of rain. River and creek beds were bone-dry. Springs that never before had been known to fail were now but a memory. Deer and quail – all the wildlife of the forest – had long since vanished, going elsewhere in search of feed and water.

The Yavapais were indeed in desperate straights. Something had to be done, and done quickly; else the entire tribe was doomed to extinction. Their only hope of relief lay in the country to the south of them – the land of the Pimas, the land of plenty. But, most unfortunately, the Yavapais were persona non grata with the Pimas. For centuries there had been bitter enmity between the two tribes.

But necessity knows no law; nor can it be governed by the rules of expediency. The Yavapais faced certain death if they remained in their own domain. It would be no worse to die at the hands of their enemies. A council was held, and it was agreed that they would go down to their prosperous neighbors, throw themselves upon their tender mercies, and hope for the best.

The story of that long journey to the Salt River Valley is one of hardship, suffering and death. Fully a third of the starving band died en route. When the survivors finally reached their destination they met with a frigid reception. The Pimas were respectable tillers of the soil, and did not relish the idea of dividing their substance with a people who were too indolent to earn their bread by the sweat of their brows; to say nothing of feeding those who had been their sworn enemies since time immemorial.

But, as the account goes, the Pimas were generous enough to supply their unwelcome guests with food, and tolerated their presence till such time as they were in fit condition to travel again. Then, they were politely but firmly requested to take their departure. Which they did, apparently. That is, they withdrew from the Pima settlements, halted on a nearby hillside, and held another council. And this one was very different. The former council had been held by a people whose bellies were cleaving to their backbones. Now, thanks to the corn and beans of the parsimonious Pimas, the Yavapais were themselves again. They were once more in fighting trim. But they were still facing the problem of a food supply. What were they to do? Where could they go? To return to their own drought-stricken country was altogether out of the question. To remain in Pima country – and eat – meant that they must fight for their food, obtained by force. But this course was not so easy. The Pimas outnumbered them, ten to one. And then, while they were discussing the matter pro and con, the problem solved itself – for the time being, at least.

The Pimas annual feast of the Sun was due to take place. From their hillside camp, the Yavapais saw an outpouring from the Pima villages – men, women and children – all those who were young enough, able-bodied enough, to take part in the festivities. They were winding their way down the Great River, that mighty stream which they had harnessed with their own hands, building dams to hold back the water and divert it to the canals and ditches they had dug to irrigate their patches of corn, beans and squash.

Here was the Yavapais golden opportunity. Surely their Great Spirit had come to their rescue. Now was the time to strike. They would find the Pima villages deserted, except for a handful of those who were too old or too young to attend the celebration. And so, at sundown, the Yavapais once more descended upon the Pimas, stripped them of their surplus store and took their leave with food enough to last them for many-a-day.

But they made one great mistake – an error of judgment, which resulted in the plentiful crop of skulls that Joe Farrell, in after-years made mention of. They were not satisfied with merely taking the corn and beans of the Pimas. They included in their plunder some of the stay-at-home elders of the Pima tribe, together with a number of young children who had been left in the care of these elders. This would teach the penurious Pimas a good lesson on the evils of hoarding, even though it meant more mouths for the Yavapais to feed.

However, at the end of the third day’s march, heading toward their homeland, the Yavapais experienced a change of heart. It became evident to them that it was sheer folly to share their limited supply of food with anyone – least of all, the Pimas. So they disposed of their captives, in the usual thorough Indian manner. And then a miracle happened. The Great Spirit, as if in full approval of their bloody deed, sends down the long-prayed-for rain – in torrents, and for day after day. Now they could return to their country with the assurance that they would find both water and their accustomed food – the game of the forest – awaiting them.

It is difficult to image just what process of reasoning provided the Yavapais with the assurance that the Pimas would not collect damages in full for the slaughter of their kindred. In all probability, reason played no part in the matter. For the Pimas, while much preferred to live at peace with their neighbors, could fight when they had to; a fact which the Yavapais should have well known, from their own experience.

And so it was that these peace-loving Pimas, upon returning to their villages and learning what had transpired during their absence, started out on the trail of the Yavapais. What took place when the two tribes came face to face is easily surmised. The Yavapais of today admit that only such of their tribe as were fleet of foot came out of that battle alive. And if any further evidence is required to substantiate the premise that the Pimas amply avenged their wrongs on that occasion, it can be obtained by consulting the skulls of "Ah-ka-ma-nah." Their mute testimony is still coming to light, unearthed each year by the plows of those who today farm that eight-by-one mile strip of land known as Skull Valley.

Editor’s Note: "Many stories have been told regarding the origin of the name Skull Valley. There is documentation to demonstrate that the name dates back at least to 1864 when the first gubernatorial party arrived in the future Prescott. While it is a fact that there were several severe battles with Indians after the arrival of white men in Skull Valley, the name actually derives from the fact that the first white man who entered it found piles of bleached Indian skulls. The skulls were found by Captain Hargraves’ company of the First California Volunteers, while escorting Coles Bashford to Tucson in March of 1864. The skulls were the remnants of a bitter battle between Apaches (Yavapais) and Maricopa (Pima) in which the latter were the victors. It is reported that the Apaches (Yavapais) had stolen stock from the Pima villages and were pursued by the Maricopas (Pimas). The dead were left where they fell.

At least thirty-five more skulls were added to the bleaching bones as a result of a fight on August 12, 1866, in which six freighters (the chief of whom was a Mr. Freeman), five citizens and four soldiers battled more than one hundred Indians. The fight took place not more than three miles from the Skull Valley Station. Apparently the Indians were those who had stopped the same party from proceeding on its way on the first day of the month, forcing them to return to Camp McPherson, as the Skull Valley Station was called. A private citizen rode back to the post for help when the Indians appeared. He returned accompanied by Lt. Oscar Hutton, who demanded to know why the Indians had stopped the train. The Indians replied, as they had once before, that the water, the grass, and the country belonged to them and that all whites must leave the valley within the week. After sharp words on both sides, the battle was joined. When the bloody conflict ended, twenty-three Indians lay dead in the immediate vicinity and several more were found at some distance from the battleground. These too were left where they fell." (Byrd H. Granger, Will C. Barnes’ Arizona Place Names, 5th Printing, 1975)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(iny2102p)
Reuse only by permission.

Yavapai Indians on horseback in Skull Valley, c. 1900

As told by Mrs. Lillybelle Morshead to Arthur Ensign and H.G. Grey of the Federal Writer’s Project

(Beginning with this week’s Days Past article, we will begin to unearth the stories of Yavapai County as told to the Federal Writer’s Project. The FWP was created by the Works Progress Administration during the Great Depression of the 1930s to create income to writers, educators, and historians dedicated to documenting ‘American Life.’ The project published guidebooks, organized archives, indexed newspapers, and collected folklore and oral history interviews. The following story is of John G. Campbell, the proprietor of the first store in Prescott, as told by his daughter, Lillybelle Morshead to the FWP writers. The manuscript, located in the Archives of Sharlot Hall Museum, is from the John G. Campbell Collection of photographs, essays, and biographical information on this important pioneer.)

When Governor Goodwin proclaimed Arizona a Territory of The United States and established its capital at Prescott, my father opened a store there, which gave the newly made capital a total of two well-made buildings. The other was the Governor’s Mansion.

The store was a big square adobe building and its most striking feature was its great iron door. As a matter of fact, there were two big double doors, so made that when closed, they completely covered the door-opening-framework, leaving nothing exposed on the outside except unburnable adobe and iron. These great doors typified the needs of the country in those days, not only as protection against marauders, but against fire. The store stood through two big fires but succumbed to the fire of 1900, which burned down most of Prescott.

The iron doors protected a valuable stock of goods, including the stock in the cellar, most valuable of all. The supply in the cellar also typified the needs of the territory, for men came from 100 miles and more to buy its rare wines, whiskeys, and imported brandies. At one time, so it was said, the cellar was worth more than $100,000. This, at the time when money was scarcely ever seen!

Money wasn’t seen, because cattle were seldom seen in the territory: as a matter of fact, the only herd was brought in by the Governor himself. Mining was Arizona’s industry and men paid in gold and gold dust. My father’s gold scales are beside me here: more than $20 million have been weighed in its pans.

My father was a ’49er in California: that was when bread cost $2 a slice. Then he went to Ehrenberg to Arizona, and came here to Prescott in 1864 when he built the store. Ehrenberg is now a ghost town, but I can take you there and show you the exact spot where father fought for his life against the old time gunmen.

A general store in those days carried everything in the way of merchandise, and the only store in the territorial capital carried more than that, if such is possible. Of course, ready-to-wear dresses hadn’t been invented, so yard goods formed the ladies’ department, and calico was the rage. This, beside me, is the first printed calico ever made: my father imported it from France. It cost, in those days, more than gold cloth costs today.

There was no need to advertise, and no means of advertising, until the Journal-Miner was established. The store was located in the middle of the block on Montezuma Street, which later became Whiskey Row. My father’s letterhead, on ruled paper, which he had printed after a few years, says:

John G. Campbell

Hardware, Groceries, Liquors, Cigars, and Tobacco

Established 1864

My father was elected congressmen from the territory in 1878 and served on the extra session in 1879, elected by a plurality of 580 votes, a big majority in those days. Twice he was called to the Territorial Congress as member from Yavapai County and for years was county supervisor. He refused, however, to run for governor.

He was quite a character, my father. He’d put up $10,000 of $15,000 dollars for a fellow’s bond, or lend him $5,000 of $6,000, and absolutely refuse to take a note or any written memo of the loan. "Why, I wouldn’t insult a fellow by asking for his signature," he’d say. In all his business dealings he was the same: a man’s word was better than his bond. One day, as the territory imported a different sort of character, a man did my father out of $20,000; my father’s way of doing business was outlived by then.

Dad would never sit down to a good table without having company, thus our house was always full. He’d always help the underdog and he made no attempt to collect the thousands of dollars owed him when he finally sold the store and went into the cattle business.

A big hitching post stood outside the store, about a foot and a half wide and thick rough-hewn timber. I remember my father, as if it were yesterday, by the iron door looking out into the unpaved, muddy street, thick-set, with a big head and magnificent white mustache and flowing beard, wearing a conservative black coat, rather long, and full cut checkered trousers of dark hue, coming down over his boots in the respectable fashion of that day and age. He wore a straw hat with a black band and a sort of parson’s collar. Beside him was my little brother, in cut down breeches, with a round hat and knee-high boots. The youngest clerk, in vest and black round hat, is now working in the sheriff’s office in San Diego…I mean, he wore that outfit when he worked in my father’s store. I remember another man, very tall, about 6’7", I think, sinewy and strong, with a lean face and drooping black mustache, leaning against the store with hand on hip. Then there was a dandified sort of fellow there, with white shirt and collar and round hard derby hat. He represented the younger and slicker generation.

My father sold boots and shoes, canvas, oil lamps, blasting powder and guns and anything you can name that was made in the 19th century. They drilled into the bed of Granite Creek for their water supply. Costs were high, but then so were retail prices. Nails were $1.50 per lb: Beef, $2.50 a pound (remember this was before the cattle days) and flour $1 per pound. Risk of Indian attacks on transports, and so forth, made prices high. Sometimes my father would lose whole shipments though Indian attacks. One fine pair of shoes sold for $65: another pair of high boots, very well stitched with fine workmanship, for $125. I have a man’s hat, which first brought $80; and was sold, used, for $20.

A lot of dad’s store business was done in an indirect way, by grub staking miners and prospectors. He would supply rations and equipment for a share in whatever their mines developed. He took a loss, of course, on many mines and claims, but the paying ones made up such losses. The store became a sort of social and civic center, and a business center, in this way and others, second only to the Governor’s Mansion.

The store also became a news-distributing agency. Through his many connections, my father would get reports from the outside world often before such news came through official government channels and people would come to the store to find out what was going on. Even the saloons were runners-up in the matter of authentic details of new government legislation, newly found mines, rich strikes, Indian attacks and dangers.

That adobe, iron-door building was one of the landmarks of the territory and, so long as Prescott remained the Territorial Capital, the most important store and the second most important building within an area of 160,000 square miles. It is strange to see how different Arizona has become. Later on, my father went into the cattle business, a pioneer in this line also, but that is another story.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(st192p)
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The John G. Campbell Pioneer Mercantile Store seen at front right, just to the left of the horses, in this view of Whiskey Row from atop the courthouse c.1879. This was Campbell’s second store in the same location, the first operating from 1864-1874, and the second operating from 1875-1883.

by Ann Hibner Koblitz

When people think of mining, typically they conjure up images of the large enterprises of Virginia City in Nevada or Jerome and Globe in Arizona where prospectors and miners could become rich almost overnight, and millions of tons of high grade ores were extracted and processed during the course of decades-long operations. The elaborate 19th century mansions and the mountains of tailings in and around Jerome bear mute testimony to large-scale mining activity in Yavapai County. But there was another kind of enterprise – much more common and much less successful economically – that was equally important to the social history of mining in our state.

A couple of years ago, I purchased a 20-acre mining claim on Copper Mountain outside of Mayer. The land bears the remnants of at least four shafts, a 600-foot tunnel, and other relics such as antique nails and barrel staves, blasting caps, and rusted-out miners’ lunch pails and food cans. The nearby hills, both private and government lands, are similarly dotted with exploratory shafts, tailings, claim markers and other artifacts. But, except for one medium-size mine a short distance to the north which produced copper in the first half of the 20th century, most miners apparently had as little success with their claims as did those who sank shafts on my property.

As an historian, I was naturally interested in learning more about the abandoned shafts that add such a ghostly presence to my land and that of my neighbors. As a result of discussions with surveyors and research in Sharlot Hall Museum Archives and Bureau of Land Management records, I have pieced together a story of hope, desperation and dreams.

My property was registered in 1936 as the "Defiance Claim." The patenting documents declared that it was worth $36,000, divided into twelve shares of $3,000 apiece. Now, 1936 was the height of the Great Depression. At first, I was astounded that the mine owners thought they could get anyone to invest so much in a small new mine at such a time – $3,000 was a year’s salary for a Harvard professor. But one of the surveyors I spoke with said that probably it wasn’t so much money being invested as time and labor. In other words, a group of unemployed men got together, pooled scarce monetary resources and contributed most of their investment in the form of ‘sweat equity.’ According to the surveyor,

The hills northeast of Mayer feature some beautiful quartz and onyx formations, and many of the tailings contain enough "peacock" (bright teal-colored rock faces that indicate traces of copper) to make it clear why the miners might have had their hopes raised. But the fact is, there is barely enough metal there to justify extraction even with today’s sophisticated mining techniques. In the 1930s, the situation would have been even bleaker.

This does not, however, mean that the Defiance enterprise was unsuccessful from a social point of view. At a time of enormous unemployment, the men would at least have kept themselves busy. They had the companionship of their fellow miners, they were getting fresh air and exercise and the wild hope that they might, after all, strike it rich probably kept them sanguine for quite a while. If they had families in the vicinity of Mayer, their steady occupation at least made it unlikely that they were abusing their wives and children. And they might have brought back the occasional rabbit or quail or rattler to sweeten the stew pot at home.

In fact, late 19th and early 20th-century reports of mining throughout Yavapai County tell a similar story: mining was socially useful and at times profitable, but most of the profit did not come from the ore itself. From its beginnings in 1865, the Arizona Miner, as befitted its name, devoted a lot of attention to mining enterprises, and its tone was usually optimistic. But, most of the time, the Miner spoke of mines in the early stages of development and the glorious results the editor was certain could be obtained if only a bit more money were invested and more equipment were brought in. And it was usually the money being poured into mining operations in Yavapai County, rather than any windfall profits being brought out, that was the theme of enthusiastic reports in the Miner.

This is not to say that nobody got rich. A clever entrepreneur like "Diamond Joe" Reynolds or Professor Poland (for whom the settlement of Poland was named) could milk a weak strike or even a salted claim for far more than it was worth and there were plenty of gullible people (mostly from the East) who were willing to invest in Arizona mines so long as the front man sounded plausible and the stock certificates looked impressive.

Most of the money, however, was in the spin-off enterprises of a mining boom. Miners and prospectors needed supplies, and merchants were willing to furnish them, usually at a premium. Miners had to eat and sleep, get their laundry done, be entertained – and so rooming houses, restaurants, laundries, bathhouses, saloons and bordellos all sprang up quickly in the vicinity of mining activities, whether or not the earth ever gave up much valuable ore. Freight companies and railroad branch lines grew if the minerals lasted long enough, and a real town with enough momentum to withstand the playing out of the ore could emerge.

Mayer itself is an example. Joe Mayer founded the settlement in 1882 to service the prospectors who trekked hopefully into the hills around Copper Mountain as well as the better-known mining operations that stretched into the Bradshaw Mountains toward Tip Top and Crown King. At one point, Mayer was a railroad junction and thousands of tons of ore were shipped through there. But the ore ran out, the mines closed, and the miners on Defiance and neighboring claims found other things to do. Mayer, however, survives to this day.

(Ann Hibner Koblitz is a Professor of Women’s Studies at Arizona State University. She is currently working on the history of women’s health and fertility control in territorial Arizona.)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(m271pa)
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Copper Mountain Mining Company on the Agua Fria River east of Mayer near the former site of the Defiance mining claim.

by Tom Collins

Despite the numerous events, Bashford at one point seemed to have given up on the concept of a profitable theatre. After more than a year without performances of any kind, Bashford announced through the Miner that he was having the "old opera house" put in thorough repair, for use solely as a hall. "He will not rebuild the stage again. The south wall has been rebuilt and the interior of the place thoroughly renovated" (Sept. 17, 1890).

Yet, six months later, Bashford booked McFadden’s production of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s, "Uncle Tom’s Cabin" (March 1891). While advance notices promised a thrilling experience, the editor of the Miner later criticized the management for "inflicting" McFadden’s shabby production on the Prescott public. Even with its "modern improvements," the opera house was scarcely large enough to accommodate the spectacle of Stowe’s powerful drama of slavery in the Old South. The Courier complained, "Now, Prescott’s chief play house is not as large as it should be. It was, at one time, larger, but fire caused a reduction in its size. It is of brick, and well supplied with chairs. The stage is of the cribbed, cabined and confined order, so there was not much chance for disorder upon it. But for the centrepiece of the drop curtain, with its really handsome representation of Prescott and names of surrounding mining and other districts, painted thereon in well formed letters, a hightoned stranger would be led to think it a little ‘loud,’ owing to the artist’s reckless use, or misuse, of reddish colors" (Feb 13, 1891). Renovations were clearly long overdue.

Accordingly, Bashford turned the theatre over to H.D.Aitken and B.M.Goldwater for one year. These businessmen gutted the Howey building and relocated the theatre to the first floor, enlarging the stage and ordering a complete set of new scenery. The stage was "footlighted by small kerosene lamps in a tin trough…and the blue lights on either side of the proscenium and several big lamps suspended from the ornate ceiling were dimmed by chains or cords." In October of 1891, they installed a new drop curtain representing "Portsmouth harbor in the back ground, with a full rigged ship at anchor in the foreground.

"For the grand re-opening, Professor Ludwig Thomas and director Joseph Dauphin prepared a lavish new production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s, "H.M.S. Pinafore." Dauphin himself sang the role of Sir Joseph Porter, while local dentist, F.H.Waite, played Ralph Rackstraw and soprano, Mrs. W.A.Cline played Josephine. The production ran for four nights to packed houses. (This was Joe Dauphin’s farewell performance. He moved some time after the closing to San Francisco, where he played an engagement at the Alcazar Theatre in May 1892.)

In November, the Beebe-Barbour Company played a week-long engagement of six different plays, including "SHE, the Queen of Kor," adapted by Edwin Barbour himself from Sir Henry Rider Haggard’s seminal, ‘lost kingdom’ novel (1887). The adaptation, according to Barbour, "created much comment and made a lot of money on the road." Mr. Barbour made a powerful impression as a handsome Englishman whose fascination for the legendary Eternal Flame of Life leads his expedition to the mysterious Kingdom of Kor, ruled by the beautiful queen, Ayesha (Marie Wellsly), who, although she is over 2,300 years old, is kept youthful by the magic flame. The child star, Little Gracie Beebe, wowed audiences with the song-and-dance numbers she performed before each of the plays.

The 1892 season featured the Stuttz Theatre Company in a repertoire of five different plays, including Ouida’s, "Under Two Flags," the quintessential Foreign Legion drama. Then came the show that vied with "SHE…" for sheer novelty: Mrs. General Tom Thumb and her variety troupe of little people, performing songs, dances, rope jumping, and magic tricks (Oct 1892). "The performance throughout was refined and entirely free from all objectionable features.." (Miner, Oct 5).

The major highlight of the 1893 season (a sparse one) was the appearance of McCreery & Howell’s Companion Players in two spectacular productions: "Monte Cristo" and John A. Stevens’ "Passion’s Slave" (March 15-16). William Oscar Don starred as Edmond Dantes and as Manuel de Foe. The Miner commented that "notwithstanding their late arrival and the limited time allowed for preparation of the stage, the performance passed off very smoothly. Mr. Don..is really a fine actor and he was supported by a good company" (March 22). "Monte Cristo" could possibly have been pirated, for in the previous decade the play was owned and acted solely by James O’Neill, father of our great American dramatist, Eugene O’Neill. The hero’s vengeance upon Fernand Mondego, the ‘friend’ who had framed him for treason, imprisoned him in the Chateau D’If for fourteen years, and stolen the love of his life, the beautiful Mercedes, enthralled hundreds of thousands of theatergoers all over the country from 1883 to 1907.

By 1894, the so-called Prescott Opera House had fallen into disrepair and was considered "unsafe." In its waning years, it housed primarily lectures by local and visiting dignitaries. One Professor Putnam, in January 1895, delivered a series of lectures on agnosticism, evolution vs. creation, and freethinking. Miss Sharlot Hall held forth, in April 1895, on the subject of "Theocracy or Patriotism in the American Republic." The music and drama were silenced by the erection of a new opera house on Gurley Street by a noted architect, Samuel Eason Patton. Patton’s Opera House opened in October 1894. Its impressive size and technical advances eclipsed the relatively tiny stage of the Howey building. Nonetheless, in a few last hurrahs, Bashford’s Opera House hosted a minstrel show by the Prescott Lodge of Elks (Feb 1898) and the Andrews Opera Company in a production of Auber’s, "Fra Diavolo" (Feb 1899). The Miner regretted on the latter occasion that, "Prescott has not better facilities in the way of an opera house, as our people would have been delighted to have seen this company in other comic operas." No less than three hundred people were crammed into the little auditorium. It is indeed odd that this prestigious opera company did not play its entire repertoire at the more commodious Patton’s Opera House, which had recently been remodeled.

Howey’s Hall ceased to function as a theatre after 1899 and ultimately was acquired by the Prescott Fire Department (March 1904). It stood until May 1959, when it was finally demolished. W.G.Heisler had written an impassioned letter to the editor just four years earlier (Oct 1955). He described Howey’s Hall as an historic landmark and praised its beautiful interior. He claimed that his father had seen such international stars as Fanny Davenport, Lilly Langtry, Helena Modjeska, John Drew, Thomas Keene, and Nat Goodwin perform there. Unfortunately there is not a shred of evidence to corroborate these claims, and Mr. Heisler admits that, "Of course much of this history is from before my time, largely from hearing my father tell of it and from hearing him whistle some of the delightful music of the old operas and concert numbers, glorious music that was poured forth within those walls of our opera house, so decrepit and forlorn looking today." (The Shakespearean actor Thomas Keene did perform "Richard III" at Patton’s Opera House in 1896, but there is no record that he or any of these other superstars of the 19th-century stage performed at Howey’s Hall. And surely the Miner and the Courier, which routinely reviewed lesser lights, would have jumped at the chance to cover the arrival of such celebrities in Prescott.) We can confirm only a few of Heisler’s recollections. It may be that in his father’s memory, several different theatres were conflated into one: Howey’s Hall.

This fine little opera house, which once rang with the music of Verdi, Donizetti, Offenbach, and Sullivan, and thrilled Prescottonians with the greatest melodramas of the day, vanished into obscurity. Only one programme, that of the 1891 revival of "H.M.S. Pinafore," and one photo, that of the Mrs. General Tom Thumb troupe, remain in the Sharlot Hall Museum Archives to testify to the theatre’s lively history. Might there be more in old Prescott family scrapbooks?

(Tom Collins is a retired college professor of theater history and a volunteer of the Sharlot Hall Museum Archives.)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(bub8215p)
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Howey’s Hall as seen from the roof of the Courthouse, c.1890s.

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Hedrick D. Aitken, shown here c.1890s, along with B.M.Goldwater, took over Howey’s Hall for a year (1891-92), gutted the building, moved the theater to the first floor, enlarged the stage and ordered a complete set of new scenery. The stage was "footlighted by small kerosene lamps in a tin trough…and the blue lights on either side of the proscenium and several big lamps suspended from the ornate ceiling were dimmed by chains or cords." In October of 1891, they installed a new drop curtain representing "Portsmouth harbor in the back ground, with a full rigged ship at anchor in the foreground. The theater was back in operation again by November 1891.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(db524f12i) Reuse only by permission.

The Mrs. General Tom Thumb trio (shown here) and her variety troupe of little people played at the Opera House in October of 1892, performing songs, dances, rope jumping and magic tricks. It was a novelty feature, unlike the usual refined performances held at the opera houses in Prescott.

by Tom Collins

On the southeast corner of Cortez and Goodwin streets, the current site of the City of Prescott building, there once stood Howey’s Hall, the cultural center of Prescott.

For some fifteen years, citizens gathered there for theatrical performances, orchestral concerts, socials and balls, lectures, magic shows, skating parties, graduation exercises, and even church services. Built in 1876 by E. I. Roberts for local blacksmith James Howey, it originally housed the Goldwater & Brothers Mercantile business on the first floor, and soon the Masonic Lodge on the second floor. It was one of the first brick buildings in town, a classically designed structure, 60 feet long and 33 feet wide, each story rising 14 feet between the joists. The Arizona Miner of December 15, 1876, announced that, "Upper and lower stories are now being fitted up, regardless of cost, for Mr. M. Goldwater, who will shortly fill them with goods of all kinds."

When the Goldwaters erected their own building in a remarkably similar style and moved out, taking the Masons with them (mid-1879), Howey attempted for months to sell his establishment.

Although Prescott old-timer, W. G. Heisler, wrote a letter to the editor of the Courier in the 1950s crediting Howey with the conversion of the building into an opera house, the historical evidence suggests otherwise. Howey’s newspaper ads (September-December, 1879) touted his building as a fine structure suitable for a hotel or "any other business." They say nothing about a theatre on the second floor. In a Courier article dated March 16, 1962, Lucille Ewin states that, "The culture-conscious city of Prescott was in need of a theater at the time the Howey building was advertised by James Howey, owner and proprietor." But in fact the city had two fine performance spaces: the City Hall Theatre, built in 1877; and the Prescott Theatre, built in 1878, on the northeast corner of Alarcon and Liberty streets. The latter was the home of the Prescott Dramatic Association, a very active amateur community theatre, and it was there that the Pauline Markham Theatre Company performed "H.M.S. Pinafore" ( 1879-80) and "Little Mattie, the most wonderful of all child actresses," appeared on March 22 and 24, 1879. The Star Novelty Troupe and the Nellie Boyd Dramatic Company also performed twelve or so different plays there in 1880. Ms. Ewin also refers to a caustic editorial by the Miner’s editor, Charles Beach, who wrote that, "The Arizona Minstrels can’t get the theatre building to perform in. The heavy stock holders are going to put the building into extensive repairs for the next anniversary of the ‘Consolidated Chicken Show.’"

In fact, the Arizona Minstrels wished to perform in the Prescott Theatre, not Howey’s Hall. In 1879, the Howey building was owned solely by James Howey. The Prescott Theatre, on the other hand, was owned by a joint stock company, with a number of "heavy stock holders." On April 24, 1879, Beach had written a caustic editorial badgering the Prescott Dramatic Club for being in debt and unwisely resorting to bulletin boards for gratuitous advertising (instead of buying ads in his newspaper). Later, on November 10, Beach wrote, "Some time since we asked, on behalf of the stockholders of the Theater building, for a statement as to the indebtedness of said building. No notice was taken of the request, and now, we are again asked by John Raible and others, to repeat the question." This may explain Beach’s earlier barnyard metaphor accusing the Prescott Dramatic Association of being "chicken" – i.e., reluctant to disclose the facts of their fiscal mismanagement. It does not imply, as Ms. Ewin suggests, that Howey’s Hall was originally "a barn or a barn-like structure," nor does Beach’s antagonism towards another theatre troupe motivate the "meagerness of the infrequent articles concerning Howey’s Hall presentations." The more likely explanation is that between 1879 and October 1884 there were no productions in Howey’s Hall because there was no theatre there. Levi Bashford, an extremely successful and enterprising businessman, bought the vacant building at auction in September 1881, and, after a six-month grace period, took formal possession in March 1882.

The question now was, what would Bashford do with the building? After a long period of inactivity, the Miner announced (March 17, 1883) that "the Howey building is being fitted up for territorial library and officials." Renovations began in May, but no business activity was reported there. The deciding factor seems to have been the burning of the Prescott Theatre – home of the Prescott Dramatic Club and venue for traveling professional theatre troupes – in November, 1883. Perceiving the need for a new performance space, Bashford built a modest little theatre on the second floor of his establishment. Judging from the dimensions of the building and assuming that the stage was raised the standard three feet, it is likely that the stage was no more than 32 feet wide and 22 feet deep, with a proscenium opening no more than 22 feet wide and perhaps 10 to 11 feet high. The auditorium seated about 250. The first recorded performance took place on October 24, 1884, when the Prescott Dramatic Club presented a comedietta called, "The Dumb Belle," an interlude entitled, "Mistaken Identity," and the one-act farce, "Slasher and Crasher." In addition to several other short farces, the Club gave two performances of the renowned temperance melodrama, "Ten Nights in a Bar Room," (Feb, 1885).

When the Club ultimately collapsed, talented semiprofessional actor-singers, Joseph Dauphin and Harry Carpenter, who had arrived in Prescott in December 1879, with the Pauline Markham Theatre Company, formed a new dramatic club whose mission included musical theatre. They initially produced a few short farces, but soon graduated to Gilbert & Sullivan and Offenbach. Jessie Stevens, a talented soprano, sang the leading roles. Perhaps nudged by Joe Dauphin, Bashford remodeled the theatre in the months of October and November 1886, to create a suitable "opera house." He built an addition at the rear of the building for dressing rooms, improved the stage, and installed upholstered opera chairs. The opening of the new-and-improved theatre was celebrated on January 12, 1887, with a concert featuring the singing talents of Jessie Stevens, Joe Dauphin, and Harry Carpenter, among others, followed in February by Offenbach’s, "The Rose of Auvergne," and Sullivan’s, "Box and Cox."

In the meantime, Bashford converted the first floor of the Howey building into a skating rink. "The new skating rink in the Howey building will be formally opened this evening. All objectionable characters will be rigidly excluded and the best order maintained, while the managers of the rink will strive to make it a pleasant resort for all patrons" (Miner, April 17, 1885). An ad in the Miner, dated May 1, 1885, announces that the Skating Rink is open every afternoon, 2 to 4; evenings, 7:30 to 10. Tuesday and Friday afternoons are free to the Ladies. Music is provided by Prof. Tuthill’s Band on Wednesday and Saturday evenings. "No Improper Characters Admitted. Everything First-Class." The rink quickly proved to be one of the town’s major attractions and certainly a profitable investment for Bashford and his co-manager, J. L. Smith.

In his most notable achievement, Bashford booked the nationally renowned actress, Minnie Maddern, and her theatre company in April, 1887. Famed for her revolutionary, realistic style of acting, Minnie Maddern starred in her productions of Howard Taylor’s, "Caprice" and Victorien Sardou’s, "Frou-Frou." In the latter drama, she played Gilberte Brigard (a role initially made famous by Sarah Bernhardt), a spoiled, frivolous, willful young Parisienne who unwisely marries Henry Sartorys, a quiet and somber fellow with a future as an ambassador. True to her character, ‘Frou Frou,’ as Gilberte is nicknamed, is four years later an utterly ineffectual wife, mother, and household manager. She and her doting husband invite ‘Frou Frou’s’ practical older sister, Louise, to live with them permanently, manage their household, and mother their infant son, Georgie. The plan backfires. Louise, who has always loved Sartorys, is so effective in her mission that Gilberte angrily resigns husband and son to her sister and runs off with an ardent lover. They live for a time in Venice until that relationship deteriorates. Sartorys follows her to Venice and kills her lover in a duel. Deathly ill and repentant, ‘Frou Frou’ returns to Paris to obtain forgiveness and see her little son one last time. She dies surrounded by those who have loved her all "too well." This was, for the era, a shocking play and a bold role for an actress to attempt. The local newspapers wondered at Miss Maddern’s utterly convincing, realistic acting, which contrasted so sharply with the more overtly melodramatic style that audiences were used to seeing. Maddern’s engagement was followed in 1888 by the celebrated Grismer-Davies company performing Dion Boucicault’s sensational melodrama, "The Streets of New York." Hugh Conway’s, "Called Back," and Frank Harvey’s, "The Wages of Sin." Joseph R. Grismer and his costar, Phoebe Davies, brought with them scenery and special effects from the Alcazar Theatre in San Francisco. But it is difficult to imagine how the larger-than-life action and scenic spectacle of these plays would have fared within the confines of Howey Hall’s tiny proscenium.

Meanwhile, a young German immigrant named Prof. Ludwig Thomas, who became naturalized in Prescott in 1888, assembled a fine orchestra that was soon performing excerpts from Verdi and Donizetti operas with the local singers. Of special note was his instrumental and vocal concert "with the largest orchestra ever heard in Prescott" and nationally renowned pianist, Mrs. N. Ellis (Nov 10, 1887), his presentation of Act IV of Verdi’s, "Il Trovatore," and the male chorus from Verdi’s, "Ernani" (Oct. 26, 1888), and his staging of "the finest gems" from Wallace’s opera, "Maritana," complete with scenery, costumes, and full orchestra (Nov 27, 1888). A talented pianist, Professor Thomas, also gave a recital with violinist, Professor Neilsen (Sept 27, 1889).

And who could resist the lure of magic? In an effort to draw in a broader audience, Bashford booked the famous magician, Professor Zamloch, "The Wonder Worker of the World and Exposer of Spiritualism," for four nights in March 1888. Zamloch’s illusions and hypnotic acts astounded local patrons, who packed the opera house for each of his varied presentations. The success of this event prompted Bashford and his co-managers to invite Zamloch back in August 1891 and to book another magic act, The Roikger Brothers, for three nights in February 1892. Zamloch would return to Prescott for a third appearance in 1894 at Patton’s Opera House.

(Check back next week for the conclusion of "Howey’s Hall.")

(Tom Collins is a retired college professor of theater history and a volunteer of the Sharlot Hall Museum Archives.)

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Reuse only by permission.

Howey’s Hall, c. 1878.

by Elisabeth Ruffner and Karen Carlisle

On November 13, on the floor of the State House of Representatives at the Capitol building in Phoenix, Patricia McGee will be inducted into the Arizona Women’s Hall of Fame. Born July 9, 1926 in Holbrook, AZ, Patricia Ann Vaughn was raised by her grandmother, Viola Jimulla, chief of the Yavapai Prescott Indian Tribe from 1940 to 1966. (Viola Jimulla is also honored in the Arizona Women’s Hall of Fame.) Patricia McGee’s grandmother taught her the values of integrity and self-reliance, along with the importance of service to her tribe. McGee served on the Yavapai-Prescott tribal board from 1966 to 1972 and, as President of the tribe for 20 years, from 1972 to 1988 and 1990 to 1994.

Patricia McGee attended the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) School in Valentine, Arizona, and graduated from Prescott High School. She then attended Haskell Indian Junior College in Lawrence, Kansas, and Prescott College from 1966 to 1969, where she majored in anthropology. She married Ernest McGee, and their marriage lasted until her death. During her working life, she held various positions in the BIA finance division at Truxton, Arizona, and later in public health at Peach Springs, Arizona. During the 1960s, she took her grandmother’s advice and returned to Prescott to lead in tribal affairs. In 1966, after Viola Jimulla’s death, she became a tribal council member and then remained in tribal government for 30 years.

Patricia McGee worked for educational programs and economic development for her tribe. In 1984, she secured a $1.2 million grant and persuaded the city of Prescott to issue municipal bonds to finance and build a resort hotel on the Yavapai-Prescott Reservation, which became the Sheraton Resort. McGee led the development of tribal land for the Frontier Village Shopping Center, which eventually housed many retail stores and restaurants. In addition, through her leadership, the Yavapai-Prescott tribe signed the first agreement to allow gaming in Arizona.

McGee viewed economic development as a means to achieve improvements in housing, cultural preservation and health care. She prioritized preservation of Yavapai culture, saying that, "Our young people need to know their history, culture, tradition, and their own language. This lack of knowing hurts them and you can’t have self-esteem and self-determination without self-knowledge."

President Nixon appointed McGee to serve on the National Advisory Council on Indian Education. McGee also belonged to the Inter-Tribal Chairman Association of Arizona, and acted as secretary-treasurer of the Indian Development District of Arizona. She testified in Congress for the Water Settlement Act that resulted in her tribe getting additional water allocations. She also helped to create the Yavapai Language Program.

Her years of work for the Yavapai-Prescott tribe yielded many benefits. When she died in 1994, tribal members and Prescott citizens lauded her ability to use economic development to further education and cultural preservation.

Patricia McGee will be represented at the induction ceremony by family members who will receive her plaque and speak of her at the Arizona Women’s Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Four other worthy Arizona women will also be inducted and refreshments will be served.

If you wish to attend this ceremony, please RSVP with Karen Carlisle, Sharlot Hall Museum, 928-445-3122 x30 by November 6.

by D.E. Born

In May 1863, the Walker Party discovered gold in the Hassayampa River, a few miles south of present day Prescott. The Walker Party was a group of between twenty and thirty men lead by the well-known mountain man, Captain Joseph Walker. Traveling through the West, they were looking for the next gold find. Following the Gila River, they decided to explore the Hassayampa River, which led to the discovery of gold.

Soon after this discovery, members of the group established a mining district and began locating claims. There were claims on the Hassayampa, Granite Creek, Lynx Creek and even the Big Bug. A few men, however, remained at the original site. With winter coming, they built some cabins. They probably built three originally because there is a record of one burning.

At this location, the river runs from east to west. The cabins were built on the north side of the river against a small hill with the doors facing east. The two cabins that remained were identical. Each was built of small diameter pine logs with a stone fireplace and chimney in the back. The roofing was reported to be hand cut pine shingles.

How long the original group stayed is not known, but others filed claim to the location and stayed in the cabins. The original chinking was probably mud and grass or other natural material. This was replaced with plaster. The pine shingles were replaced with galvanized iron. Other, less obvious, changes were probably also made.

In 1925, my uncle, Robert Born and his partner, known to me only as Mr. Lane, filed claim to the site. They named their placer mine the "Lingerlonger". Mr. Lane decided to live in the cabin nearest the river. Some repairs were required. The chinking was touched up as needed, glass was replaced in the windows, repairs were made to the chimney and the plank flooring was replaced. The other cabin was also repaired for Robert Born. While Mr. Lane would live at the mine, Robert lived in Prescott with his family. Employed in law enforcement as a U. S. Marshal and later as Undersheriff of Yavapai County, he seldom stayed at the claim over night.

My parents, Charles Dewey and Johanna Born, frequently drove out to the Lingerlonger. Mother usually had a pie or cake for Mr. Lane. On some of these trips, we would stop at the Pay’n Takit grocery on Cortez and pick up some supplies for Mr. Lane. My brother John and I always enjoyed these visits – it was a fun place.

The photo (below) of Mr. Lane with the gold pan was made on one of these visits in 1930. My uncle Robert is walking in the background while I am the one in the fancy cap. The gold pan is being used to check samples. Gravel is taken from areas where obstacles slow the flow of the river allowing sand and gravel to settle out. This is then washed in a sluice box to separate out the gold. Samples are often taken and washed in a gold pan to determine whether there is any gold in the material. If it pans out, then the gravel is run through the sluice box.

Shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor, both men left the mine claim: Mr. Lane to California while Robert Born enlisted in the Army. I don’t know what Mr. Lane did in California, but Robert spent the war years at a munitions plant near St Louis.

A few months after the end of the war, Robert returned to the Prescott area and the Lingerlonger. He cleaned up one of the cabins and moved in. Now otherwise unemployed, he started mining again. Mr. Lane did not return and I have not learned any more about him. Robert stayed at the mine for two or three years and then moved into Prescott. The cabins were empty again.

In June 1961, my wife, Ida, and I went out to the mine claim with my parents. We walked around the claim and we looked the cabins over. A few months after our visit, the Forest Service destroyed both cabins. These two cabins served as shelter for a number of people in the 98 years of their existence. They were in remarkably good condition for their age and should have been preserved as a part of the history of Prescott.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(Walker Cabin) Reuse only by permission.

One of the Walker cabins as seen in 1928. The cabin was built by the Walker Party in late 1863.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(Lingerlonger Mine) Reuse only by permission.

At the Lingerlonger Mine in 1930 is shown Mr. Lane with the gold pan, Robert Born walking at right and D.E. Born (author of this article) observing the mining process from the rock in the center.

Fayrene Martin Hume, referred to as the "gracious keeper of the flame of Ash Fork heritage," is
the 2006 recipient of the Sharlot Hall Award. Established in 1984, the award
is given annually to a living Arizona woman who has made a valuable contribution
to the understanding and awareness of Arizona.

In nominating Mrs. Hume, Marshall Trimble, the official Arizona State Historian, wrote the following nomination:

"Fayrene Martin Hume moved to Ash Fork from Arkansas, arriving in 1950. She
attended elementary and high school in Ash Fork. In 1953, she married Lewis Hume,
grandson of Thomas Cooper Lewis, one of the first residents of the town when
it was founded in 1882. She was surrounded by Ash Fork history and when the railroad
and highway bypassed the town, coupled with a tragic fire in the 1970′s that
destroyed most of the old business district, she saw the need to record and preserve
the history. She also determined to revive the community spirit.

"She learned the ethics of hard work from her parents. She came from a large
family and learned to take responsibility at an early age. After her marriage,
Fayrene and Lewis started a family. Her children were spread so much that in
her words, ‘it took 29 years to graduate three boys.’ That was certainly favorable
for the school. For 30 years, she volunteered for all school activities and was
an active member of PTA and PTO.

"Some of her other activities included 4-H Leader and Cub Scout Leader. For
twenty years she was active in the local Little League Program and, today, with
grandchildren playing, she’s back working in the program, running the concession
stand and booster club.

"She has long been a supporter of the Ash Fork High School athletic programs
and still attends all the games.

"Always interested in youth projects, she’s worked with Kids Voting since it
began. For six years, she supervised a summer youth program. She had the kids
cleaning and sprucing up the town cemetery. Under Fayrene’s supervision, Ash
Fork celebrates Arbor Day planting ash trees and other plants and shrubs. She
spends the rest of the year watering and caring for them.

"She’s coordinated all the school reunions that have been held, including 1976,
1982, 1996, and 2000.

During the 1982 reunion, she wrote a history of Ash Fork, as the town prepared to celebrate its Centennial. She was head of the committee, collecting oral histories and photographs from former residents scattered throughout the country.

"Under the auspices of the Ash Fork Development Association, she got a lease
for the property for Centennial Park from Santa Fe. She was then elected to the
AFDA board and has served since with eight years as secretary-treasure, and the
last five as president."

The first priority of AFDA is a safe and effective water system for the betterment of the community. Other accomplishments of the AFDA during Fayrene’s tenure include expansion of the water system, a community center, library, park, health center, and a program for the beautification of the community. You can always find her picking up trash, mowing weeds, planting trees or shrubs. She can also be found cleaning up the grounds at the old cemetery and restoring the site.

Raising funds and writing grants has also been a labor of love for this tireless citizen. Several years ago, she took a class in grant writing at Yavapai Community College and has put it to good use. Her latest project was the Ash Fork Commemorative Monument near the site of the old Harvey House. She sought, and got donations, from all over the state. The monument was dedicated on September 8, 2001.

"Whenever a project comes along, I strike out to seek donations," she says modestly.
These things always seem to fall my way and I’m never told ‘no’ so that makes
it a lot easier."

In 1998, she sought to designate a portion of Old Route 66 through Ash Fork as a historic highway. It was approved, and today, signs in the town commemorate that historic highway’s passage through the town.

That same year, she requested the Arizona Department of Transportation Building be placed on the Historical Register. It came on March 4, 1999, and is the only building on the register in Ash Fork to date. The Ash Fork Historical Society has ordered a plaque for the building noting history and register date. The Society uses the building as a museum depicting the history of the town.

The Ash Fork Historical Society was formed in 1997. Fayrene has served as president since its beginning. She was instrumental in the annual Pioneer Day Celebration, the Ash Fork Post Card and Historical Cookbook. A pictorial booklet on the town is in the process of being printed and will be dedicated to Fayrene Martin Hume.

She served six years on the Yavapai County Parks Recreation Board and three years on the Yavapai Community Foundation Committee.

In 2000, she received a plaque from the Catholic Diocese of Phoenix in recognition of 30 years service as a Catechetical Leader.

In 2003, she received the Governor’s Volunteer Service Award. When presenting
the award, Governor Napalitano read her long list of activities and said, "What do you in your spare time"?

The following year, Fayrene was honored with the prestigious Arizona Culturekeeper’s Award from the Arizona Historical Foundation for nearly a half-century of working to preserve the history and culture of Arizona.

She is a determined woman who always gets things done for her community. A few
years ago, when Ash Fork’s days as a major railroad junction waned, the old Harvey
House and depot were torn down and a small depot opened without an identification
sign. A railroad station without a name on it?! Fayrene got busy and wrote a
letter to the superintendent in Winslow and a few days later, a marker arrived
bearing the name, "Ash Fork."

She continues to hold fundraising events to help the Ash Fork Fire Department and helps with landscaping at the new firehouse.

She retired from the post office in 1997. The job was taking too much time away from her community service.

Hume’s love for Ash Fork is unconditional love. In her own words: " I really
get upset when someone talks in a bad way about Ash Fork. As I see it, this community
is what we make it and together we can make a difference. I spearheaded a lot
of projects but I always have my family backing me as well as others who are
always there to pitch in. And that is how we got things accomplished"

Fayrene Martin Hume is a modest, kind, warm and caring person. She seeks and
gets donations and assistance for her many causes with, in the words of Mary
Poppins, a "spoonful of sugar." Not a self-promoter, for more than 30 years
this kind lady has gone about making her community a better place to live. Every
town and city in America should have somebody like her.

In 2002, Richard Sims (past Director of Sharlot Hall Museum) succinctly described
her in a column in the Prescott Courier as the "gracious keeper of the flame
of Ash Fork heritage."

Join Sharlot Hall Museum’s board of trustees in recognizing the contributions of Mrs. Hume. Come to the Sharlot Hall Award Dinner on October 21 at the Hassayampa Inn. Please call the Museum, 928.445.3122, extension. 13, for more information about the dinner.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(Hume 10-15-06) Reuse only by permission.

Fayrene Martin Hume is the 2006 recipient of the Sharlot Hall Award.