We’ve all seen the movies that depict gunshot wounded Civil War soldiers getting limbs cut off to save their lives. It makes us cringe to think of that. However, we know that’s where medicine was back in the 1860′s. Battlefield surgeons had little choice when it came to the threat of infection and the amount of damage a .58 caliber mini-ball would do to an arm or leg. Sanitary practices were so poor that a sliver in your finger could mean the loss of that digit.

After doing some research, I immediately became thankful for how far medicine has come in the last 140 pus years.

Following the war, many doctors went on to ply their trades out west. Up until that point, settlers were subject to practices of a homegrown nature or relied on voodooism or shamanism. Major issues such as malaria, cholera, smallpox, and yellow fever were the great killers of the west. If a community had one of these, there would likely be a 50% fatality rate. Doctors did what they could, but the medicines were not available or simply not invented yet. Whiskey was ok for cleaning wounds and making you…numb. But it did little to cure a fever.

Arizona Territory had some shining stars in the field of medicine. Dr. George Goodfellow, resident physician in Tombstone, led quite a career. Also known as the “Gunshot Surgeon”, he was the doctor who saw a lot of action during the Earp/Clanton feud. He also performed the first appendectomy in Arizona. When he was not pulling bullets out of drunken miners or delivering babies, Dr. Goodfellow was doing research (e.g. the effects of reptile bites) for medical books. I guess golf hadn’t really caught on at that point.

The first hospital in Arizona was St. Mary’s in Tucson. Built in 1880, it had a whopping 12 beds. Some of the nurses were the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. Ring a bell? One of the physicians, Dr. John C. Handy, was instrumental in getting organized health care going in Arizona, and trained many of the nurses. Later on, Dr. Handy fell prey to a speeding bullet. When word got to Tombstone, Dr. Goodfellow hopped a train to lend a hand. Sadly, he was too late to help his colleague, but his dedication is legendary.

If you want to investigate further, head to the History of Pharmacy Museum in Tucson, where you’ll find collections of bottles and artifacts pertaining to all things medical. Up Prescott way is the Fort Whipple Museum, housing some good items from their military hospital. The Arizona Historical Society has a section with just about every medical implement known to 19th and 20th century physicians. By the way, some of those surgical instruments are not for the squeemish.

The next time you are waiting interminably in that doctor’s office reading Highlights magazine, consider how far medicine has advanced since the 1880′s. It might make you feel better!

St. Mary's Hospital

When we think of food in the Old West, what comes to mind is cowboys sitting by a campfire eating beans and gnawing on jerky. They drink copious amounts of coffee, and toss the grounds into the fire before crawling into their bedrolls. All that was pretty standard trail fare because it was easy to acquire and it stored well. On the frontier, folks had more of the “eat to live” than the “live to eat” mentality. Therefore, they didn’t concern themselves so much with variety. One famished 1870′s traveler wrote: Neither spices, sauces, nor seasonings are necessary to accommodate them to the palate. Our appetites need not nursing. The richest condiments are the poorest provisions. 

Those who braved long trips on stagecoaches were also not treated to luxurious fare. Station stops were sparsely outfitted. Mark Twain writes in Roughing It: He sliced off a piece of bacon for each man, but only the experienced old hands made out to eat it, for it was condemned army bacon which the United States would not feed to its soldiers in the forts, and the stage company had bought it cheap for the sustenance of their passengers and employees.

Of course, after a long journey, the cowboys and stage passengers would eat hearty at a town restaurant. A cowboy named Teddy Blue wrote: Do you know what was the first thing a cowpuncher ordered to eat when he got to town? Oysters and celery. And eggs. Those things were what he didn’t get and what he was crazy for.

Oysters? You mean they didn’t just eat steak and potatoes like Andy Devine in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance?

Tarnation, no! Thanks to the Transcontinental Railroad, food in the Old West could now be more lavish. In bigger towns, one could find a veritable smorgasbord to please their palates. Mexican food, Chinese food, fresh baked goods, even ice cream could make up this cornucopia of cuisine. Below is a “Sunday Dinner” menu from the Occidental Saloon in Tombstone:

Soups
Chicken Giblet and Consomme, with Egg

Fish
Columbia River Salmon, au Beurre Noir

Relieves
Filet a Boeuf, a la Financier
Leg of Lamb, Sauce, Oysters

Cold Meats
Loin of Beef, Loin of Ham, Loin of Pork, Westphalia Ham, Corned Beef, Imported Lunches

Boiled Meats
Leg of Mutton, Ribs of Beef, Corned Beef and Cabbage, Russian River Bacon

Entrees
Pinons a Poulett, aux Champignons
Cream Fricasse of Chicken, Asparagus Points,
California Fresh Peach, a la Conde

Roasts
Loin of Beef, Loin of Mutton, Leg of Pork
Apple Sauce, Suckling Pig, with Jelly, Chicken Stuffed Veal

Pastry
Peach, Apple, Plum, and Custard Pies
English Plum Pudding, Hard Sauce, Lemon Flavor

And we will have it or perish.
This dinner will be served for 50 cents.

Many folks today like to recreate these foods. Recipes from the pioneer era still exist, and cooks alter them for today’s palates. One pastime that illustrates this is chuck wagon cuisine. Old West aficionados cooking succulent meals in dutch ovens over a campfire has become very popular. Festival of the West in Scottsdale even puts on an annual contest. Let me tell you, if you haven’t tried dutch oven cobbler, you haven’t lived.

So, when you swing into the drive-thru at Sonic during your summer road trip, remember the travelers and pioneers in the Old West. Toast them with the french fry they never got and be happy it doesn’t taste like condemned army bacon.

As the heat of summer approaches, southern Arizona sees a significant drop in outdoor events. OK, we’ll leave our homes on one condition…the destination has to have air conditioning. This is the perfect time of year to visit some of our state’s museums. I’ve mentioned plenty of them in past entries, and here a few more.

Arizona Historical Society in Tucson has wonderful exhibits pertaining to ranching, mining, medicine, military, and much more. There is an impressive display of historical firearms that includes Geronimo’s rifle and John Slaughter’s pistol. You’ll walk through a couple of fully furnished Victorian rooms and see actual clothing of the 1880’s. If you are a bookworm, the main branch houses an impressive research library.

Trail Dust Town has a recently upgraded museum dedicated to the Horse Soldier. In it one can find everything from 1850’s saddles to WW1 horse gas masks. Recently riding behind a horse with gas, I thought this would be for me. Apparently, it’s for the horse.
They also claim to have a large collection of Rough Rider memorabilia. Oddly, the Rough Riders were trained in cavalry tactics, but didn’t end up on horses during the Cuba campaign. Maybe they should have been called the Rough Walkers, but it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

Tombstone’s Western Heritage Museum offers a large collection of territorial era artifacts, including the largest collection of Earp memorabilia in the state. While you’re there, jump over to the Bird Cage Theater and get a feel for its bawdy past. If you are an amateur ghost hunter, this place seems to have some inhabitants that show up from time to time.

Down in the Dragoons lies the Amerind Foundation. Dedicated to Native American cultures, it sports a nice collection of Indian art and artifacts.

Sure, you could just beat the heat by going up north to cooler climates. But if you want to stay close to home, I encourage you to check some of these museums out. If you’ve been before, go again! With folks donating items, you almost always see something new. You’ll walk away with better understanding of Arizona’s history, and the knowledge that you stayed cool doing it.

Museum of the Horse Soldier

Oatman, Arizona has a fascinating past. Starting out as a mining town, it originally consisted of simple tents. History is a little fuzzy on the some of the facts from the 1880′s, but we do know it was not called Oatman for many years. The Vivian Mining Company took roots around the turn of the century and for awhile the town was named Vivian. But by then, the area already had a colorful past.

Legend says that in 1851, the Oatman family was moving north on an emigrant train. At one point the family separated and eight Oatman members were besieged by Indians. The Oatman Massacre, as it is now known, took the lives of all but three children. These children were taken captive by the indians. Mary Ann, Olive, and Lorenzo. Mary Ann died in captivity. Lorenzo was thrown over a cliff and miracuously survived to search for his remaining sister. In 1856, Olive Oatman was found. She had been tattooed on her jaw, a mark that would always remind her of her ordeal with her Mohave Indian captors. So, in honor of the massacre, Olive’s successful son, John, influenced the town fathers to give the town its current moniker.

In the early years, the town was kept alive by gold strikes. The original post office was founded in 1904, just after the Oatman hotel was finished. Both of these buildings, wooden sidewalks, and many more historical structures remain in Oatman, giving it a real Old West feel. Also being on historic Route 66 sure doesn’t hurt it. Did I mention Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent their honeymoon in the Oatman Hotel? Serenaded by burros…

Hey! Is this the town with the wandering donkeys?

Yep, ancestors of the burros used by area miners were released into the mountains. Every day they come down and roam the streets looking for tourists with food. By sunset, they head back into the mountains where they all live in a gated donkey community (ok…maybe not).

Heading up to Oatman might be a nice little Old West getaway. It also holds interest for some other lifestyles. Being on the “Laughlin Run”, Oatman is a favorite spot for motorcycle enthusiasts, and classic car drivers. There’s gunfights, food, shopping, history, and don’t forget about the roving donkeys. Oh, I almost forgot! In July they hold their annual Sidewalk Egg Frying Contest, and in January there’s bed races!  What could be better? Well…maybe bacon.

Oatman, AZ

The batwing doors swung open and all conversation stopped. As the piano music slowly faded away, all eyes focused with scrutiny on the stranger. I’m guessing if that ever really happened, it was because the stranger was dressed as a clown with big floppy shoes and a squirting flower.

Saloons in the Old West were legendary businesses. Cowboys off the trail would head directly to one and spend the majority of their monthly wages on liquor, gambling, and women of negotiable affections. In a way, they were 19th century man caves. They varied in style from simple tent buildings with a rough plank thrown over beer kegs for a bar, to grandiose buildings with fine furnishings. One thing that was commonplace was the quintessential painting of a nude lady. Men would toast to her, and put her on a pedestal. Jeez, she was just on a wall!

Due to the drinking, swearing, spitting, cigar smoke, and scandalous paintings, society women in the Victorian era were not typically found going in and out of saloons. It was not proper for a lady to be seen in them. Not to mention that drunk men would easily get into gunfights, which makes for a dangerous atmosphere.

Drinks varied from wine, rum, beer, champagne, and of course, whiskey. Tucson’s Cosmopolitan Saloon (now gone) mixed Mescal with whiskey and called the concoction pulque, which apparently caught on briefly in the early 1880′s. This was different than the original ingredients of the Latin American beverage, but the teamsters drinking it probably didn’t know the difference, as long as the alcohol achieved the desired effect. In an effort to make as much money as possible, saloon owners would cut whiskey (or grain alcohol) with numerous ingredients to extend it’s use. Cayenne, turpentine, even snake heads were known to “flavor” the beverage. This whiskey was jokingly titled rotgut, and didn’t win much favor with patrons of discerning tastes.

Historic saloons in Arizona are somewhat plentiful. Surely not the amount that lined both sides of the street in the 1880′s, but examples are numerous.

Prescott’s Whiskey Row has some terrific historic watering holes. Maybe the most popular of these is the Palace Saloon. Founded in 1877, it was not only a tavern, but a barber shop, restaurant, and gambling hall. During the fire of 1900, citizens pulled the historic (and no doubt expensive) mahogany bar into the courthouse square so it wouldn’t burn up. Today, it sits in its rightful place separating the bar area from the restaurant. Adorned with photographs and displays, it is a mini-museum of Prescott and the colorful characters that frequented it.

Tombstone also has representations of libation enterprises. The Crystal Palace, looking very much like it did in an 1880′s photograph, still holds the ambiance of a higher class drinking establishment. Adorned with a tin ceiling and wooden floors, one can experience the phantom scents of cigars, beer, and…whatever that other smell is.

It is interesting to note that many famous Old West characters owned saloons. Lawmen, gunslingers, gamblers, politicians, you name it. Ironically, a lot of them also died in saloons. They say alcohol and firearms do not mix. They’re right. Amazing that Miss Kitty never got shot with all the bullets flying around.

So, the next time you belly up to the bar in a historic saloon, don’t just think about brawls, gunfights, and poker while drinking your shot of Tarantula Juice. Ponder the important decisions regarding our great state that no doubt occurred at that scarred up counter. Treat them with respect, and please don’t shoot holes in the 130-year old ceilings.

Palace Saloon's Famous Bar

Cemeteries in Old West Arizona paint a picture of the hardships the pioneers had to endure. Looking at the markers and their dates, one can only imagine what took the lives of some of these folks. Indian ambushes, sickness, gunfights, hangings, childbirth, and suicides were all very routine for settlers in Arizona Territory. Back then medicine was still somewhat primitive. If you cut yourself shaving and didn’t take medical precautions, you could end up dead. You’d better hope there’s some medicinal whiskey around to cleanse the wound, ‘cause Bactine® ain’t comin’ around for awhile.

The term “Boot Hill” became synonymous with graveyards in the Old West. If a gunslinger died by lead perforation, this violent passing earned the expression, “he died with his boots on.” Tombstone’s Boot Hill has probably the most famous grave markers in the country. The folks who came up with some of those epitaphs certainly were witty. We’ve all heard the famous: Here Lies Lester Moore. Four slugs from a .44. No Les. No More. Another amusing one that tickles me is: He was right, we was wrong. But we strung him up, and know he’s gone.

Incidentally, Tombstone’s Boot Hill is probably one of the most photographed places in Arizona. Many of the players in the Earp/McClaury/Clanton incident are buried there, as well as other notable shootists. You will also find markers that lack important information: Two Cowboys, drowned. Ironically, there are thousands of pioneers and immigrants whose graves have been lost to time, yet these two nameless swimming-challenged drovers were lucky enough to be immortalized.

I’ve visited cemeteries in Fairbank, Adamsville, Pinal, Dos Cabezas, and Florence. In some of the old ghost towns, the bone yard is all that remains. Sadly, time has taken its toll on the markers. Unless they are made of stone, they’ve all but crumbled away. Adamsville, neighboring Florence, basically washed away due to the flooding of the Gila River in the 1800’s. The cemetery remains, and in 1996, a young man named Phil Hawkins cleaned it up and set up a method of identifying the graves. Thanks to his dedication, many relatives can now pay respects to their ancestors. Some of the markers there date back to 1877.

I encourage you to visit the graves of some of these Arizona trailblazers. For me, it solidifies their existence, and punctuates the history. Take some photos; maybe come up with your own whimsical epitaph. Here Lies John. He was not the machine, but merely a cog. Died at his keyboard, typing a blog.

Yeah….I’ll work on that.

A Simple Grave in Fairbank, AZ

Florence, Arizona, was founded in 1866. When many think of Florence, the huge complex of penitentiaries of off highway 79 comes to mind. You know, the ones right after the sign that reads, Prison Ahead. Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers.

Don’t let this stop you from visiting one of Arizona’s most historic mining cities. In 1909, the overcrowded Yuma Territorial Prison turned over all its inmates to the recently completed Florence prison. Ironically, many of those convicts built the place. If it were me, I would have built my cell with more space and a recliner. Of course, they may not have let hardened outlaws have recliners. Or space.

Main street presents buildings that date back to territorial days, and is one of the highlights of this town. In keeping with the architecture and history, many of these structures along this street have been repurposed. One can find a hardware store, general stores, the Rynning’s Ranger Museum; even an 1880′s hotel now encompasses a fudge shop. The Pinal County Historic Society has terrific displays covering everything from Tom Mix memorabilia to the nooses used to hang criminals at the pen.

There are two historic Pinal County Courthouses in the town. The earliest one is McFarland State Park, built in 1877. It contains a courtyard, Sheriff’s office and jail. The second courthouse was made in 1890, and with its big sweeping staircases and clock tower, it was not only bigger, but much grander. However, money must have run out, because the hands of the clock are actually painted on. Both of these buildings are being restored. Maybe they’ll put real hands on the clock.

The McFarland State Park is where Sheriff Peter Gabriel shared an office with his deputy, Josephus Phy. These two lawdogs had their issues with each other, and Joe lost against Pete later in an election. Whether this was the straw that broke the camel’s back or anger over the fact that his name was Josephus, Phy came after Gabriel with a knife in one hand and a revolver in the other. The scene of  this gunfight was the Tunnel Saloon on Main Street. Eleven pistol rounds were fired at point blank range. Joe died, and Pete lived another ten years with one lung. The humorous part occurred when the two men were lying in the street bleeding. The town doctor attended Joe first, and that ticked Pete off so much, he refused medical attention. They had to fetch a doctor from Sacaton to take care of him!  This 1888 shooting incident was actually big news during the day, but is largely swept under the rug thanks to the fame of the OK Corral gun battle.

Every February, the Chamber of Commerce holds a Historic Homes Tour. It’s a fascinating tour where the owners of many 1880′s buildings in Florence open their doors to the public. A great way to see the inside of these Victorian homes. Some that aren’t open are still of interest. Pauline Cushman, a famous Civil War spy, lived in a house not far off Main Street.

Famous Florence is a terrific town to visit to experience some of Arizona’s pre-statehood history. You can visit during any number of events they hold every year, or just head on up to see some sights. Eat some fudge, and say hi to the ghosts of Pete and Joe. Just don’t pick up any hitchhikers in orange jumpsuits.

Around 1878, the arrival of the Southern Pacific Railroad changed transportation for Arizona. Up until that point, public conveyance was equine-powered. If a town was getting a train depot, it increased its chance of success. The steam-powered locomotive was an unbelievable jump in technology.

This mode of travel made it possible for people to ride in comfort and not have to worry about the dangers and pitfalls of the rugged landscape breaking the wheels of their stagecoach. Nor did they have concern for cramped spaces and potentially long, dusty voyages. Railroads also revolutionized shipping, making livestock, agriculture, and mail service available to major cities across America.

Chinese laborers were brought in to build the great Southern Pacific Railroad’s tracks in 1878. They worked for $1.00 a day and in less than a year had 182 miles of track built! It grew from there. The only break they got was during the hot summer months. Even then, some of them went to work in mines until the railroad picked up again.

Of course, with industrial expansion comes outlaw ingenuity. Arizona was rife with rapscallions taking pointers from the James’ brothers and holding up trains. One of the most famous ones in Arizona happened in 1900 near Fairbank. “Three-Fingered Jack” Dunlap and his gang held up the Southern Pacific and met with heavy resistance from the express car. Jeff Milton, hero of the day, managed to mortally oxygenate Jack with a shotgun (but apparently left his remaining fingers intact). Like the owlhoots in Bisbee, they didn’t time the payroll shipment right.  The remainder of the gang got away with a whopping 17 pesos, and were eventually captured. Sigh…will they never learn?

last week I wrote about Willcox and its historic depot. A neighboring town, Cochise, was a water stop and housed a hotel and general store. So, while the train was refueling, one could get some snacks or a meal to tide them over until the next stop. Probably couldn’t get a Slurpee, but whatever the Old West equivalent was.

Other notable historic depots lie in Tucson, Tombstone, Williams, Holbrook and the Grand Canyon (to name a few). Most are still in use, as the Southern Pacific sold their lines to the Union Pacific in the 1900′s.

For you ghost town hunters, the Esmond Train station (originally named Papago) built in 1885 has visible ruins and lays not far  from Tucson.

Tucson’s recently restored  depot is home to the Southern Arizona Transportation Museum, and will be hosting National Train Day on May 12. There will be exhibits, food, model trains, and real steam trains to explore. At this time there are no Chihuahua or turtle races, but I’ll let you know if that changes.

If you just like trains, Chandler has the Arizona Railway Museum, where you can climb aboard some of these historic locomotives and passenger cars. If you want ones that move, head to the Grand Canyon Railway in Williams or the Verde Canyon Railroad in Sedona. In addition to these giving you the historic transportation, they offer incredibly scenic views and maybe a mock holdup.

What I hope you take away is an appreciation of the mode of transportation that was instrumental in settling the wild west. By the way, it’s acceptable to whistle Big Freight Train Carry Me Home when the locomotive pulls out of the station.

3:10 to Yuma…All Abooooard!

Maley, Arizona was founded in 1880. The original plan was a whistle-stop for the new Southern Pacific Railroad and it passed through a ranch owned by a fellow named James Mahley. It appears as though the town name was absent of the “h”.

Around 1889, a train came in with a bigwig general by the name of Orlando Wilcox.  According to legend, the townspeople cheered his name, and poor James Mahley lost his namesake. So Wilcox grew. It became a major shipping location for local cattleman and farmers. In 1915 , incorporation came and they added an “l” to the name (maybe to make up for stealing James’ “h”).

Many of the buildings in Willcox are on the National Register of Historic Places, As far as I know, all of them are being utilized as businesses today. The Southern Pacific Railroad Depot is now the city hall. The Women’s Club utilizes an 1880’s hotel named the Schwertner House. The Palace Saloon is still serving alcohol, but The Headquarters Saloon is a gift shop. You might find one of those machines that mash a penny into an oval with “Willcox” stamped into it here, but you won’t find whiskey. Also of note is the Willcox Commercial, which claims to be the oldest operating store in Arizona. It would appear Geronimo shopped for sweets here. I wonder if he got a stamped penny.

One of the highlights on Railroad Avenue is the Rex Allen Cowboy Museum, which features memorabilia of the famous singing cowboy who was raised there. Every year The Chamber of Commerce hosts Rex Allen Days, in tribute to the actor. This October there will be a rodeo, concerts, a parade, and turtle races. Watch out, Superior…your Chihuahuas should be sweating.

Warren Earp, younger brother to Wyatt, was driving stagecoaches between Willcox and Fort Grant, and is rumored to have worked for the Sierra Bonita Ranch. One day in 1900 he got into a fight with Johnnie Boyett over the affections of a woman at the Headquarters Saloon. It resulted in a shootout that left Warren the second Earp to perish in Cochise County. He is buried in Willcox Pioneer Cemetery.

Many of you will go down with the family to pick apples at Apple Annie’s Orchard. Once you’ve had your fill of those crisp, juicy delights, I urge you to visit the historic downtown of Willcox. Pay your condolences to Warren, sing along with Rex Allen, wave to a passing train, and immerse yourself in a little Old West history.

The Oldest Store in Arizona

There’s gold in them thar hills. Naw, this isn’t about the Lost Dutchman Mine. This is about stolen outlaw fortunes hidden away so that no one will find it except the outlaws who stole it to begin with. What happens if the posse catches up to them and they refuse to reveal their unlawful gains only to be hanged from the nearest cottonwood? Well, my friends, that’s why we have “lost treasure”.

This does not mean that you should pack a truck and go hunting for loot because some octogenarian sitting in a bar tells you where to find stolen bandit booty. Many of these legends follow a string of inaccuracies; mostly due to the unreliability of human recollection. Plenty of lore leads you to an area, usually many square miles in diameter, with little to go by.

Where the point of the Sawtooth Mountain casts a shadow at the warmest part of the day, travel East past the giant Saguaro to the rock that looks like a mare’s ear…
Yeah, that’s gonna be hard to find. Better type in “Mare’s Ear” and hope the GPS can locate it.

Hashknife Charley stole 38 gold bars somewhere in Mexico. I’m sure that can be a heavy load. Apparently, so did Charley. Once he got over the border, he buried them. Later on he was captured for stealing horses and died in prison. To this day the gold bars have never been found. Old Hashknife took the secret to his grave.

Also in the 1880′s, five outlaws robbed a saloon in Mineral Park (now a ghost town), followed by a fruitful stagecoach robbery. Like Hashknife Charley, they weren’t keen on hauling the loot, so they also buried it. Shortly thereafter, they succumbed to lead perforation and the 400 lbs. of gold dust, nuggets, and passenger’s valuables was never recovered.

Tucson has its hidden loot, too. The El Tejano treasure legend speaks of stagecoach plunder hidden in a cave near Cat Mountain and protected by the ghost of a slain highwayman. If you find it, El Tejano will appear and tell you that you have to take it all, or nothing. Anybody who has found it hasn’t been able to take the vast treasure in one trip, so the specter employs amnesia so you forget the exact location. Most likely this is based on Bill Brazelton, who Sheriff Paul and posse aerated in 1878. With 10 bullet holes in him and seconds to live, the last thing on his mind was revealing where he left his fortune.

Although these are just a couple of examples, tales of lost or hidden treasure exist in every region of Arizona. If you are going to search for it, be very careful and take plenty of water. Let people at home know where you are. Most importantly, if you meet up with El Tejano…run screaming like a little girl.

Cat Mountain