By Nancy Kirkpatrick Wright

This summer Fort Apache, located on the White Mountain Indian Reservation, two hundred miles or so east of Prescott, made headlines in newspapers across the country. Real news. Journalists interviewed experts in Washington D.C. and some reporters even traveled the rough and winding roads to the reservation to interview Apache tribal officials.

The first news story was from the judiciary: The United States Supreme Court ruled that the White Mountain Apache tribe has the right to sue the U.S. government for failing to properly maintain historic old Fort Apache.

According to a Baltimore Sun article (reprinted in the Arizona Republic, 6/1/03), the White Mountain Apache tribe had claimed that because the Interior Department has held the Fort in trust since 1960, the Interior Department has a "fiduciary duty to maintain, protect, repair and preserve" this part of their reservation, which had been designated a historic district in 1976. Moreover, other tribes have signed treaties ceding land to the federal government in exchange for a promise that their land be maintained and protected. This could open a big can of worms. Let us leave it unopened and consider the second breaking story:

A month or so later, lightening-caused fires broke out near Kinishba, on the Fort Apache Reservation. Kinishba is the prehistoric ruin which was partially restored in the 1930′s and 40′s by Dr. Byron Cummings, dean of Southwestern archaeologists, and his students from the University of Arizona. Apache men who helped with the excavation and restoration named the large cluster of ruins "Kinishba," meaning "brown house." It too, has suffered years and years of neglect and could certainly be helped with an infusion of federal funds.

The most recent news from the Fort Apache Reservation was sad and disturbing: two members of the White Mountain Apache tribe have lost their lives fighting forest fires there this summer. Arizonans throughout the state grieve with their families and Apache people.

These stories bring to mind Fort Apache’s past history. The post was established in Arizona Territory in 1871 as headquarters for the newly formed Apache reservation. The U. S. Cavalry, garrisoned there, was charged with keeping the peace, rounding up hostile Indians, and bringing in the renegade, Geronimo, and his band. This made big news back in the States, and almost from the beginning, stories of cowboys and Indians and the winning of the west fascinated Easterners and even Europeans. As is usual with battles and wars, fact and fiction intermingled. Exciting stories were told, beginning with the early pulp shoot-em-ups. Later western movies and eventually radio and television picked up the theme. The Western genre was probably best typified by John Ford’s "Fort Apache." In this 1948 film, John Wayne was a colonel with a strong sense of responsibility for the unnecessary deaths of his men. The movie portrayed Fort Apache much as it was in its heyday. A model of military spit and polish, it bustled with the comings and goings of cavalry troops, Apache Scouts, and their families.

Martha Summerhayes wrote about actually living at Fort Apache in 1874 in ‘Vanished Arizona’, her book of her memories as a military wife on the frontier. She described the officers’ quarters as log cabins– "picturesque and attractive . . . with a thick layer of straw spread over the floor before the carpet was tacked down". She was distressed to discover that a wagon containing her barrel of china had rolled down the mountainside along the way from Prescott to Fort Apache. With no store nearby, she was at a loss until another army wife offered her some plates and cups. Although she used the term, "savage Apache," as she watched a tribal dance, she later wrote, "I noticed again Chief Diablo’s great good looks."

A big fuss was made over the birth of the Summerhayes’ son, the first child born to an officer at Fort Apache. When the baby was seven days old a group of Apache women paid a formal visit, bringing blankets and a cradleboard, "such as they carry their own babies… embroidered in blue beads; it was their best work." As she admired the cradleboard and made signs to thank the women, they took her baby, fitted a small pillow in the cradle-board and laced the new baby into it. Then the Apache women "laughed in their gentle manner, and finally soothed the baby to sleep." Her husband’s only comment was, "Well, I’ll be d__d!"

Martha Summerhayes tells of meeting Colonel Corydon Cooley, the colorful veteran who had settled on the reservation after retiring from the army. She was intrigued by the army scuttlebutt, that he lived with two Apache women. When she asked her husband which one was Cooley’s wife, he said, "I don’t know. Both of ‘em, I guess". Refined Victorian lady that she was, Martha tried to rationalize the situation, writing, "Now this was too awful, but I knew he did not intend for me to ask any more questions . . . I had to sort over my ideas and deep-routed prejudices a good many times".

A few years later, Buffalo Soldiers of the famed Tenth Cavalry, made up of African American soldiers recruited after the Civil War, were stationed at Fort Apache. These men, many of them former slaves, helped capture Geronimo in 1886 and later had the thankless job of rounding up groups of Apaches and putting them on trains for Oklahoma. The Buffalo Soldiers earned much recognition for bravery, but this assignment in the wild and remote mountains of Arizona was mostly hard work with little glory. Did any of these men write an account of his time with the military in Arizona? What a story that would be!

When Sharlot Hall, on one of her tours as Arizona Territorial Historian in 1910, was at Fort Apache, the parade grounds where soldiers had marched in tight formation in the 1880′s were still well kept. However, the post was abandoned as a military reservation in 1922, and was transferred to the Department of the Interior. Theodore Roosevelt Boarding School was established under the Bureau of Indian Affairs in 1923 and during the next six decades hundreds of Apache children and children from other tribes, as well, lived in dormitories and attended school there.

Although the Tribal Cultural Center has begun collecting Apache and Cavalry memorabilia again, there is still much work to be done. Buildings must be restored, artifacts conserved, and oral histories gathered before they are all lost. The extraordinary story of Fort Apache’s illustrious past needs to be preserved and told. And heard.

Yes, Fort Apache is lonely. Ghosts of military days, of the Buffalo Soldiers, of Apache scouts, and of the boarding school children breeze around the tumbling old buildings and roam the vacant dormitories and schoolhouse. Apache people know that chinde, ghosts, probably still wander among the tombstones in the little military cemetery on the hill. A clutter of weeds may hide them but they are there.

Perhaps old Fort Apache will be maintained as a national treasure–and Kinishba, too. Precious artifacts will be protected and displayed and docents from the Apache tribe will tell stories and show visitors around. Old Glory may once again fly over a well-kept grassy parade ground.

(Nancy Kirkpatrick Wright, retired librarian from Yavapai College, is active in Prescott Art Docents and Sharlot Hall Museum. She enjoys investigating the historic confluences of the arts and sciences.)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(mil123pa)
Reuse only by permission.

In far eastern Arizona lies Fort Apache, shown here before 1900. It has popped up in the news recently for preservation and fires. The fort’s history is deep and the need to preserve it is imperative before the ghosts of Buffalo Soldiers, Apache Scouts and years of boarding school children have no place to be.

by Sylvia Neely

The first day of school is always an exciting time each fall for students, teachers, and parents, but think how excited the community of Prescott was in September of 1903. On this date the first elementary school building, Washington School, was opened to all of Prescott’s students from kindergarten through eighth grade. In 1930, the school across the street on Gurley was made into a junior/senior high school and Washington School ended at grade six. The school still stands between Alarcon and Pleasant on Gurley Street looking just as beautiful as it did one hundred years ago.

This is cause for a celebration. Washington School is probably the oldest continuously used school in Arizona – something to be proud of since many early school buildings have been demolished.

The 1906, the teacher’s handbook had this description, " This building is now the most modern and sanitary public building in Arizona and cost, exclusive of furniture, $53,000. It contains on the first and second floors ten recitation rooms besides offices, a library and four teachers rooms."

The Prescott Journal Miner of Sept. 1, 1903 comments on the deep red bricks with the trimmings of "tufa" (which we now know as "tuff") and cement and presents a handsome appearance from the exterior. The bricks came from the Fitzsimmons and Keating Brick plant owned by Thomas Fitzsimmons, a great uncle of a former Washington teacher, Tom Robbins (1950-53).

The interior has been remodeled often but the original solid oak stairway is the first thing anyone sees upon entering the building. The new carpeting does not detract from its beauty. Louise Overstreet Baribeau (1935-38) recalls the principal, Mata Dexter’s main rule: "Don’t run on the stairs." Louise’s grandfather, Edward Pierson, was general contractor for the building.

In 1914, the manual training and domestic science building, a two-story structure, was erected on the northwest corner the school lot. Some students remembered Tabitha South, the sewing teacher and Russell Rammage for woodworking. This building was later converted to classroom use in 1930. However, it was demolished in 1979.

As of this date, the centennial committee has received 137 "memory papers" from former students and teachers. The replies have come from as far back as 1916-1920, which was written by Dr. William Bork who will be honored as the oldest living student. Clair Slosser is the oldest living principal (1952-1974) and Jim Burhans is the oldest living teacher (1949-1955).

Some outstanding memories will be related here, but barely touch the treasured moments from the past. If anyone cares to contribute to the schools memory file, please contact the Washington School office.

Many former students seem to remember their school day’s mischief, especially the boys. The cloakroom was a place for what we now call "time out" and an occasional paddling. Dewey Born (1937-39) remembered the smell of wet wool coats and sweaters hanging in the cloakroom.

Halloween has always been a time of pranks. George Allan Jr. has revealed a prank concerning the Washington School bell. George was attending the, then, junior high school across Gurley Street in 1936. He and his friend, Bill Lawrence, thought it would be fun to steal the bell that rang at Washington to announce the change of classes. This bell hung in the front dormer window in the attic. They arranged for Ernie Born to let them into the attic after hours. It didn’t take long to discover that taking a 500-pound bell out under their coat wasn’t possible so they removed the clapper instead. It too was heavy so they put it under the floorboards. The next day their mischievous efforts were rewarded as they watched the principal, Mata Dexter, on the front playground blowing her little whistle to change classes.

Originally, the bell hung in the belfry at the Prescott Free Academy. Although Washington School was carefully constructed directly behind the Academy when it was built, the old Academy was demolished shortly after the completion of Washington in 1903. For a while the bell stayed downtown at the Saint Luke’s Episcopal Church. Today, it is still in the church, but at its new home off Ruger Road by the airport.

Many comments were made by students that they felt very special when they were chosen to ring the bell and raise and lower the flag that flew from the upper story.

Glenn Farrell recalls two important historical events. Washington School students and faculty planted a conifer tree on the plaza to commemorate statehood day, and the students also attended a ceremony on the plaza to meet New York City mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia, a former Prescott resident who attended Prescott High School.

Almost all of the former students remembered their teachers with love and admiration. The three mentioned most often were Mata Dexter, Geraldine Giroux, and Abia Judd.

Many former students are proud to tell that their parents attended Washington School. Bill Bianconi’s (1932-38) dad was there around 1908. Favour Hazeltine Slater’s (1941-48) parents, aunts and uncles all went there. Bill Louttit’s father, Clair, was a teacher and principal. This was true of the Windsor family: Merrill Jr., David, and Margaret. Their mother, Martha, taught there (1942-59) and father, Merrill Sr., was principal (1927-32). Sherman Payne’s (1930-36) mother and Emily Belle Rogers taught 6th grade from 1912-1922.

In the 1930′s and 40′s, it was the practice to distribute cod liver oil capsules to each student. Some write how they hated the caster oil, but maybe they meant the cod liver oil. Many capsules were spit out in the drinking fountain, but Doris Huddleston McFarland chewed hers and breathed the fishy odor on whomever she could catch.

The war years made an impact on the school children. Francis Merwin Johnston (student from 1941-43) remembered when they were asked to buy savings stamps, which went toward the purchase of war bonds. The school also collected scrap rubber and metal for the war effort.

Francis Bauer (1929-35) wrote that he was chosen to be the first crossing guard officer. This was a special honor that many remembered giving them a feeling of importance.

John Nutter(1935-36) showed up at school in knickers in 1935. Prescott boys let him know right away that he better stop at Penney’s after school to buy long pants.

A few former students came back to teach at Washington. Veronica Keeney Wilson (1935), Patty Pauley Rummage(1944-51), and Sylvia Soderstrom Neely (1949) were teachers and now serve on the centennial committee. Penny Nicholas, Angela Ainsa, Cheryl Pucel, Andria Douglas, Warren Miller from Sharlot Hall Museum, and principal, Ed Yeager make up the committee. Betty Waples Enz and Colleen McClymonds Ludwig were also students and teachers at Washington School.

Jack Pfister (1940-46) sums up what so many former students expressed. Jack states," I know that (my)Washington Elementary experience provided a solid foundation for my education and professional success. The 100 years anniversary is a wonderful occasion to express my gratitude for those years and my appreciation of the teachers who helped educate me."

Our honored school was placed on the National Register of Historic places in 1989.

Washington School has been a neighborhood school for an entire century, a place where the children could walk to school and where everyone knew their neighbors. This historic school has touched the lives of many children growing up in Prescott. It is a valued landmark in our community. This old building holds the fragile dreams of our children and a place in their history.

Former students, teachers, staff and the public are invited to a kickoff celebration this Saturday, September 6, 2003 at 1:00 and 3:00 PM. Today’s students and guests will celebrate Friday afternoon. Building tours and exhibits will be held both days.

Two things have not changed in the last century: outstanding teachers and eager students.

(Sylvia Neely is a volunteer at the Sharlot Hall Museum.)

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(pb128f10i1tif)
Reuse only by permission.

For the first 26 years, Washington School took children through to the eighth grade. This shows the eighth grade class in 1916, complete with those who sit up straight and those who slouch. This coming Friday and Saturday, Washington School will celebrate 100 years of being a "class act".

By Mona Lange McCroskey

An important part of Yavapai County’s agricultural history came to Prescott with the arrival of Swiss immigrant John William Bianconi. He arrived in Prescott in 1880 at age eighteen at the urging of a friend who said there was a job for him in the United States. He pulled in via stagecoach with fifty cents in his pocket, unable to speak a word of English. Bianconi settled in Skull Valley, but he was soon able to purchase what became the Matli Ranch in Williamson Valley. He had a dairy herd that produced fine cream, which he made into butter and hauled into town in a wagon. In October 1908, Bianconi purchased the Clough property at Granite Dells, located at the "Y" of Highways 89 and 89A (now the Kieckhefer Stables). He met and married Nora Garbarino in Prescott, and they had four children: Jim, William T. "Bill", Elmer, and Kathryn. In the early 1920s, John and William Bianconi and other local men, including the Payne family, built the first Highway 89 through the rocks at Granite Dells to the Bianconi property.

John Bianconi planted peach trees on his property, which at one time numbered at least three thousand. There were also a few apple, pear, and apricot trees, but the main crop was peaches. His operation grew to become the biggest peach orchard in Arizona. Bianconi was appointed Yavapai County Fair commissioner in charge of agricultural and horticultural exhibits, and he served in that capacity until 1923, when he returned to Switzerland for a visit. He became very sick on the ship during his Atlantic crossing, and he decided not to return to the United States. John transferred ownership of the orchard to his sons and remained in Switzerland, where he married a second time and had two more children.

Later William Bianconi bought out his brothers’ interests in the orchard. Jim did not like hoeing weeds and picking peaches, so he left the ranch and went to work for Safeway. Elmer died in Williamson Valley in 1929 in what was determined by a coroner’s jury to be a suicide, but William was always firmly convinced that his brother had been a murder victim. Kathryn married and moved to California. William inherited his father’s job as fair commissioner and represented the county for twenty-seven years.

Coincidentally, William Bianconi was born in Prescott on September 16, 1900. He married Carrie Welch, who born in Alabama on the exact same day, September 16, 1900. Her father was a dairyman in Chino Valley. Carrie and Bill probably met at a dance at the Log Cabin, a popular meeting place run by a Mr. Browning. They married in 1925 and made their home at the orchard, where they stayed until 1941. Their children are still in the area: Bill Jr. in Dewey and Betty in Prescott.

Bill Bianconi and Betty Bianconi Billingsley, third-generation Arizonans, remember that growing up at the peach orchard was lots of work. There was a small band of sheep, which were run on the ditch banks to keep the weeds down. They had to be herded to The Garden of the Gods, where they grazed all day along Willow Creek, and then herded home again. There was hay to be hauled. Bill Jr. was allergic to hay, so he rubbed his eyes to make them redder; and then he could return to the house without working. Betty recalls that picking up fallen peaches was a daily job. Carrie Bianconi milked the cow.

Bill and Betty rode a bus six miles to Washington School. It seated twelve to sixteen pupils, including Sherman Payne, the Garbrick girls, and the Holmes and Evans children, all of whom lived in the Granite Dells area. They played seasonal tops and marbles, jump rope and jacks, and roller-skated on the sidewalk in front of the school. Bill was quarterback on the football team in the sixth grade. They played Miller Valley and Lincoln School teams. Junior high school was across the street on Gurley Street.

There was not always a peach crop because of the tendency of fruit trees in the Prescott area to bloom early and freeze. But if William had one good crop every three years he could still make money. The peaches were hand picked, placed in buckets cushioned by leaves to prevent bruising, and loaded onto an old flatbed Essex truck. Then they were hauled across the road to the packing shed where they were carefully packed in lugs. The Bianconis kept one hired man year round. During peach season Mrs. Bianconi drove to town to find workers at the employment office, or she would go around the plaza and hire bench sitters to pick peaches. They were paid a dollar a day and dinner, which she prepared. Then she would haul them back to town for the night because there was no place for them to sleep at the ranch. Carrie Bianconi also canned hundreds of jars of peaches each year, to feed the workers and for the family.

The peaches were sold locally at Pay N Take It, Piggly Wiggly, Plotz and Lantz Markets, Allens Markets, and the Westside Grocery. They were sold at the ranch, too. People came from all over the state to buy fruit, which always won top prizes at county and state fairs. The Bianconis won so many ribbons that the women made shirts of them for the family. Also, William hauled a load of fruit to Phoenix about twice a week to the Safeway warehouse. From there they were shipped by rail to markets in the East. There was no I-17; he drove down the old White Spar road. With the early and late crops, the season lasted a couple of months in the summer. After peach season the trees were hand pruned by William Bianconi and his hired hand. In addition, Bianconi had a twenty-acre apple orchard at Fair Oaks, from which he took apples to Phoenix for sale in the fall.

Another business at the ranch was "the best bass lake in town," which stored water for the orchard. Fishermen from Prescott paid a dollar a day to angle for a limit of ten fish in the private lake, stocked by the Bianconis. When the old buildings were torn down at Fort Whipple, Bianconi wisely bought large tiles for three cents apiece and recycled them into the sturdy old two-story house that still stands on the property.

In 1936, Willow Creek Dam was built to impound water from Granite Creek. William Bianconi initiated a court action and was able to retain four and a half acre-feet of water per year from Willow Creek to continue irrigating his orchard. However, in 1939 a disease known as peach mosaic attacked the trees. They were dying and the peaches had little red bumps on them, like measles. They were not salable. The U.S. Department of Agricultural decided to take the orchard out to prevent the spread of the disease. WPA workers cut the wood up into fire sized pieces and stacked it in Bianconi’s yard. Without means of making a living on the ranch, William Bianconi went to work for the Arizona Highway Department in Prescott and drove back and forth to the ranch every day. In 1941 he sold the orchard to Harvey Cory and moved his family into Prescott.

Besides his work in the orchard and later for the Arizona State Highway Department, William Bianconi found time to play hardball for the Sam Hill Hardware team and engage in foot, bicycle, and car races, with Gilbert Rees as his mechanic. He was an avid hunter. The Bianconi family, now down to five generations, carries on a rich heritage in Yavapai County.

(Mona McCroskey is the oral historian for Sharlot Hall Museum. This article was written from interviews and conversations with Bill Bianconi and Betty Bianconi Billingsley.)

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

The Bianconi family won so many ribbons for their fine peaches that the women made shirts of them for the family as shown here on William. The family came to the land just north of Granite Dells in 1908 and started planting peaches, which were sold at Prescott stores and sought throughout the state.

by Linda Luddington

In 1929, Lon and Garnet started their own ranch. They moved south up the valley towards Prescott. Their Stringfield Ranch was tucked into Bottleneck Wash, in the cedar-, oak-, and pi-on-covered Granite Mountain foothills. To their original homesteads were added a number of small deeded parcels and the Burnt Ranch forest permit.

From the earliest days of their cow-calf operation, the Stringfields have run their ranch as a family business. The women have contributed their labor to its success, on the range as well as in the house. Garnet rode with Lon. They branded their Herefords with the L F and the Open Fifty-Six, brands that Ralph and daughter Irene use today. Garnet wrote that once she had helped Lon drive over a thousand steers to the Del Rio shipping pens. "The men had to load the cattle into the boxcars. In those days the only way we could sell our cattle was to drive them to the railroad."

By the 1940s, most area ranchers sold their stock to buyers who came to the ranch, weighed the cattle on ranch scales, and trucked them to feedlots, often out of state. Now, most Prescott area ranchers truck their cattle to Prescott or Phoenix sale barns. But however it is done, one fact has not changed: only when a rancher sells his cattle does he receive his wages.

Garnet recalled buying groceries monthly, in large quantities, to supplement her large vegetable garden, fruit orchard, and her own butchered beef. Merchants granted ranchers credit until the cattle were sold in the fall. "We usually ran our bill for the year. When we sold our calves, we would pay our bill and start all over again." The merchants were secure in the cattlemen’s integrity. In those days a man’s handshake and his word were as good as legal tender.

Ralph laments today’s scarcity of experienced and skilled old-time cowboys to teach the younger generations. "Just wearing a pair of boots doesn’t make a fellow a cowboy.” He gives credit to such fine cattlemen as Albert and Lon Stringfield, Bob Perkins, Austin Nunn, Mike Stuart, and Tom Koontz for his own ranching knowledge. Lon could ride roundup from Skull Valley to Big Chino and Perkinsville and bring in over 2,000 head, much to his son’s admiration. Lon also spent winter days teaching Ralph to braid rawhide ropes and hackamores.

In the cattle business, Ralph insists, there’s no substitute for experience. He has learned the value of working cattle in a gentle way, seldom needing to get his horse off a trot. He credits the "Man Upstairs" and lots of luck for few range accidents. He explains the advantages of "thinking out a situation" before starting a job. Ralph especially values Mike Stuart’s advice, "Your horse will get you home, so always take good care of it." In brush country, particularly, Ralph knows that such a practice is sound.

Recalling the many pleasant experiences he has enjoyed ranching, he tells of discovering numerous Indian artifacts on his range, of hunting lions with George Goswick, and of watching his prized cowdog, Buck, work cattle-"better than five cowboys all together." He remembers times when friends and he performed in crowd-pleasing "Wild Cow-milking" contests held here in Prescott and at other northern Arizona rodeos. Mike Stuart, Clarence Belcomb, and Joey Matli were frequently his partners in the events. One cowboy roped the cow while the other, usually Ralph, tried to milk her. He was required to fill a coke bottle with enough for the judge to pour. Ralph enjoyed success in this hilarious event until, in the Parker Rodeo, he was kicked in the back by an irate 1,400-pound cow. That ended his rodeo career!

When Ralph contracted tuberculosis in both lungs, he was forced to give up his hope of attending college on a football scholarship. The disease kept him away from World War II, as well. Instead, he took over the ranch. In 1946, he married Genevieve Sipes. Because his parents had separated, Ralph and Genevieve made their home with grandmother Garnet until she died forty-five years later.

Ralph’s bride had the blood in her veins of South Dakota and Texas cowboys. She always loved to ride, and had hoped to marry a rancher; but as she readily admits today, she knew nothing about cattle when she was first married. Ralph had soon taught her to help him gather cattle on their brush-covered land. Genevieve learned to rely on their cowdogs and saddlehorses to help her hold the stock in a box canyon while Ralph gathered still more cattle. She once joked to her mother that she had become the "world’s best holdup man."

Genevieve discovered that she loved cowboying, much preferring it to doing house chores. Of course, there were times when range work wasn’t at all fun: the time she drove cattle into the stiff, icy wind of a blinding snowstorm; the time in 1967, when the ranch was snowbound for eleven days; the spring a bear killed thirteen calves; the 1983 flood that destroyed miles of fence. Genevieve labored alongside Ralph for months restringing that barbed wire.

Readily apparent when talking with Genevieve is her propensity to find humor in all situations. Being able to laugh at herself has helped her cope with the labor-intensive life. Though she has become an accomplished cattlewoman in her own right, she speaks with self-deprecating admiration about Ralph’s and Irene’s skills. "They just know each animal in the herd, remember how best to work it, and in what part of a pasture it likes to graze.

Irene Stringfield, a Spanish teacher at Prescott High School, spends her weekends and vacations on the ranch. Neither of her parents can ride horseback any longer. The forest permit has been sold. Irene now manages their smaller herd of Herefords on the Stringfield deeded land. She does the branding as well. Her parents’ calves are branded with the L F, and hers get the Open Fifty-Six.

Ralph, Genevieve, and Irene Stringfield exemplify the true spirit of the small, independent rancher. They have met life’s struggles with inner strength, self-sufficiency, courage, and lots of hard work. Ronnie Farley, in her book, Cowgirls, writes, "Life on the land may be a struggle, but unlike the desperate man-made struggles of urban living, it is a struggle that fulfills and exhilarates rather than embitters and degrades." The Stringfields love their ranch, their family heritage, and their way of life in the shadow of Granite Mountain. All those hearty pioneer ancestors would be justifiably proud of them, too!

(Linda Luddington is a volunteer with the annual Cowboy Poets Gathering at the Sharlot Hall Museum.)

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

By Linda Ludington

(This is the first of a two part series)

"The wagons rumbled and rattled and squeaked; the hoofs of horses and mules clopped endlessly upon the hard surface of the rocky, winding road. On every hand were mountains, canyons, vast abysses that seemed unreachable by the foot of man. It was wild, vast, fearsome." Thus did Clarence Kelland describe the newly-declared Arizona Territory. But in spite of the challenges, hearty pioneers poured through the inhospitable terrain to Prescott, lured by a keen sense of adventure, unbounded enthusiasm, and endless energy.

There was Joseph C. Crane, owner of the "Diane," Whiskey Row’s opulent saloon and gambling hall. The English-born Crane was a man of impeccable dress, polished manners, and business integrity. He partnered with Michael Goldwater, W.C. Bashford, George Curtis, and Charles Drake in the Arizona Development Company, formed in 1879. A colorful figure since arriving in Yavapai County around 1869, Crane played a prominent role in Kelland’s novel of early Prescott, Sugarfoot, which was serialized in the Saturday Evening Post and later made into a movie.

There was Joseph Crane’s daughter Hattie. This pioneer woman, who spent her childhood in Camp Lincoln shortly after that frontier fort had been established, graduated from Prescott’s St. Joseph Academy in 1890. She taught at the primitive schools of Ash Fork and Big Chino before marrying Albert Stringfield in 1893. A ranch wife, mother of seven children, cattlewoman, charter member of Yavapai Cowbelles, and a member of the county, state, and national Cattlegrowers associations, this remarkable lady characterized the frontier spirit.

There was Robert Stringfield. In 1875, he and wife Nancy Adeline (Pemberton) brought their children to Arizona overland from Arkansas. Oxen teams pulled their wagons across arid trails. Initially the family settled near the base of Thumb Butte. Several years later they established a homestead in Mint Wash near the old Simmons stage station. This site was located near the present intersection of Outer Loop and Williamson Valley roads. Robert was killed in 1891, when he was thrown from a runaway horse-drawn wagon at the corner of Prescott’s Montezuma and Gurley streets. Adeline continued to live on the homestead.

There was Albert Stringfield, Robert’s son. After his final year of education, at the Big Chino School, he married his teacher, Hattie Crane. They ranched at Rock Butte northwest of present Drake. In 1906, Albert and Hattie moved to Mint Wash where his father had homesteaded. Albert’s brand was the L bar L. The couple had seven children, including son Lon.

There was William R. Rhodes. In 1876, this enterprising lad of sixteen drove a band of sheep from his home near Porterville, California, to the timberline above Flagstaff. He decided to stay in the new Territory. Soon Billy Rhodes was a meat cutter in Prescott’s "Tragic Butcher Shop." After his marriage in 1880, he ranched above Flagstaff for a few years, and later moved to the Del Rio Springs area. In his fields he harvested hay to feed the Fred Harvey Company mules at the Grand Canyon. For many years he was in charge of all rolling stock on the narrow gauge railroad for the United Verde Mine.

There was Louisa Mefford. At the age of five, in 1865, she migrated overland in a covered wagon from Missouri to California. Fourteen years later she arrived in Prescott and soon married Billy Rhodes. Louisa’s 1934 obituary states that, "She was a pioneer woman who knew what it was to have household food supplies from Prescott over abominable trails to the base of the San Francisco mountains near Flagstaff, to fear Indian attacks, and for each family to be almost absolutely self-sufficient." Billy and Louisa’s daughter Garnet married Lon Stringfield.

Ralph Stringfield of the Stringfield Ranch can claim, with justifiable pride, all of these hearty pioneers as ancestors. Ralph’s roots are sunk deep in the rugged, boulder-strewn mesas and steep arroyos near Granite Mountain. For all of his eighty years, Ralph has ranched in the valley east of that mountain, a valley in which three generations of Stringfields ranched before him. His daughter, Irene, is the fifth generation of Stringfield cattle ranchers in what is now called Williamson Valley.

Ralph and his parents, Lon and Garnet, lived near his Stringfield grandparents on the L bar L until Ralph was six. He remembers helping Albert brand his Hereford cattle. He fondly recalls his first horse, "Molly." But his most vivid memories are of his dad’s abilities with wild cattle. Lon was what ranch folk respectfully call an "old time cowboy." His son remembers Lon trailing or leading wild cattle into the corral. These were stock that had roamed freely on the open range, unbranded and unearmarked. They had escaped several years of roundups. Most were steers – long-horned and aggressive, 1500 pounds of spite and cunning. Lon was a skilled roper and dally man. The object was to rope the animal and neck it to a stout tree overnight. After the irate beast had thrashed, pawed, and twisted for hours to free itself, it would have become just docile enough to trail or to lead to the corral. Lon could lead five wild cattle into the ranch at a time. This was a dangerous but exhilarating job, and Lon was one of the best at it.

The Stringfields usually butchered the wild cattle, selling the meat to Jerome for the miners. When the open range was fenced, and cattle were no longer sold by the head, the last of the wild stock was caught. As Gail Gardner wrote, "Wild cattle were hard on horses, hard on men, and hard on themselves, and there was no money in them; so, like the buffalo, they had to go."

(Linda Ludington is a volunteer with the annual Cowboy Poets Gathering at the Sharlot Hall Museum.)

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