Roy, New Mexico

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2561; A Landing A Day blog post number 1006

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N36^o 0.282’, W104^o 25.026) puts me in northeast New Mexico:

Here’s my local landing map (for reference, I landed about 10 miles from Roy):

Google Earth (GE) didn’t let me know my most local watershed (Hondo Canyon), but a USGS map did, so here ’tis on GE:

So, I landed in the watershed of Hondo Canyon, on to the Canadian River (54^th hit).  Here’s a regional streams-only map:

The Canadian discharges to the Arkansas (144^th hit); on, of course, to the MM (993^rd hit).

The Orange Dude was able to get within about 5 miles of my landing:

But his view of my landing was less-than-inspirational:

The OD had only to head east a few miles to get a look at the Canadian River (and the Canadian River Canyon).  And this is much more inspirational! Here are his upstream and then his downstream views of the river and the canyon:

He (that’s the OD I’m talking about) headed east a few more miles where he found the town of Roy:

When checking out Roy (pop 234 per the 2010 census; 304 in 2000), I found a piece from Patagonia.com (the outdoor clothing and gear company) entitled:  “How Roy, NM Became a World-Class Bouldering Area.”

I’ll admit that I didn’t know what “bouldering” was.  I first thought it had to do with driving 4-wheelers up and around boulders, but figured that Patagonia wouldn’t be writing about that.  Reading the article, I quickly realized that bouldering is simply climbing large boulders with no climbing gear, other than special shoes and chalk to keep one’s hands dry – and typically using “crash pads” and spotters in case of a fall.  Here’s a cool picture from the article.  Look closely to see the guy with the red shirt:

And another one:

So, it turns out the Canadian River Canyon (aka Mills Canyon), along with all of its side tributaries (like Hondo Canyon) are strewn with big boulders that have broken off from cliffs.  (The local bedrock is Dakota Sandstone, geologically speaking).  For many years, this area was unknown to climbers, but has recently been discovered; climbers now often run into other climbers as they explore and climb.  The article is written by a climber for climbers and is strewn with jargon.  But I lifted a few excerpts highlighting local color:

. . . on our last morning in New Mexico. I pulled over to the north side of the historic main street in the aging village of Roy to get a photo of the iconic water tower, flushed with morning light.

[I told the Orange Dude that he had a job:  find the iconic water tower!  He did.]

[Several years ago, a colleague] told me that he and his friends used to run around in the canyons and scramble on the rocks. But now the town is fading. There used to be seven bars in Harding County. Roy’s last remaining bar had recently closed its doors.

[I asked the OD to see if he could cruise around town and find a recently-closed bar – a little tougher than finding the water tower.  Here’s what he found:]

[Hmmm. An abandoned hotel and cafe. But under “Longhorn,” it says  “Food, Drinks, Snacks.”  Good enough for me.]

One day it [the Roy area] belongs to the wind and a dusty history and you’re the foreign object on the landscape. Then it’s a climbing area. On Main Street there’s a barber shop, but pulling alongside the façade reveals grasses and vines that have overtaken the interior.

[The OD knew what he had to do.]

[Although I can’t see the “grasses and vines.”]

The first time I went to the corner café on Main Street, which is now called Lonita’s, the locals paused, forks up, to stare at me. When we stopped by on this trip, another group of climbers was already in a booth. The waitress asked us whether we’d been camping and climbing.

[And here ‘tis:]

[Speaking about Ma Sally’s Mercantile:] Now amidst the porcelain lollipop holders and American flag paraphernalia, Ma Sally sells climbing chalk and tape.

[Ma Sally?  An easy one for the OD:]

I keep coming back because the canyons are complex to hike, New Mexicans are tough on egos and quick to share beers, and the climbing is bold but joyful. Climbers go places to climb. But the associations of a place create meaningful experiences.

Climbing here is as much about the rising song of rusty cattle gates being opened and closed as it is about tall, dark-red Dakota sandstone boulders. Roy reminds me of the pleasure of climbing outdoors. Of discovery and bushwhacking, of climbing rocks without names.

Just outside town a few cows huddle behind a wilting billboard to break the exposure to grassland winds. East of the cows, the morning light shimmers in mirage, creating the illusion of a floating island of land. Snow takes advantage of the cold morning to cover the rolling brown. It’s a strange place to be looking for rocks to climb.

Apropos of nothing, the Patagonia article had this cool shot, taken north of Roy:

I stumbled on another Roy bouldering piece, from ZeBloc.com.  Here’s an excerpt:

After a 5 hours drive from Denver, we arrive during the night to our outdated hotel (the Mesa Hotel) in the aging town of Roy:

If it looks like this town once was alive (theatre, bars, restaurants…), it is not the case anymore. Only one hotel, one restaurant, one gas station, and one grocery store are remaining. Well, one could think this represents all the climbers’ needs. But if I tell you that you won’t find a single drop of alcohol within one hour drive, no doubt you will be better prepared than we were…

Here’s a picture from this article, showing the use of a spotter and “crash pads” that I mentioned earlier:

So I had to send the OD in search of the one gas station and the one grocery store.  First the gas station (which is quite spiffy):

And here’s the grocery store:

There used to be a hardware store . .

The OD excitedly told me he could see the water tower, Lonita’s Café and the grocery store all at the same time:

Certainly, the town used to be much livelier.  I had the OD cruise around looking for closed establishments.  He found this string of 4 abandoned establishments between Ma Sally’s and the hotel:

And then this sad one:

I’ll close this down with a couple of shots of the Canadian River Canyon posted on GE.  First this one, by Drew Dittmer:

And then this, by Lon Brehmer:

Mills Canyon Road, Canadian River Canyon, Kiowa National Grassland, NW of Roy, NM

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Cresbard, Tolstoy and Faulkton, South Dakota

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2560; A Landing A Day blog post number 1005

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N45^o 8.142’, W98^o 59.218) puts me in central-northeast South Dakota:

And my local landing map:

My streams-only map:

I landed in the watershed of the North Fork of Snake Creek; on to Snake Creek; on to the James River (23^rd hit).  Zooming back:

The James (of course) discharges to the Missouri (449^th hit); on (of course) to the MM (992^nd hit).

I’ll jump right over to Google Earth (GE) where the Orange Dude will check out my landing:

And here’s what he sees:

The OD headed about a mile east where he could get a look at the North Fork of Snake Creek, just upstream from my landing.  Here’s his downstream view:

I’ll start with the town closest to my landing – Cresbard.  I found a blog post written by a local minister, Timothy Koch, in “The Beggars Blog.”  Here’s his intro, which says quite a bit about Cresbard:

The population of Cresbard, SD hovers between eighty and one hundred people when it’s not pheasant season. Cresbard has a bank, a post-office (open four hours a day), and a community center that offers food at inconsistent and unpredictable hours.

Cresbard has no school and what few children she has must take two separate bus trips to get to school twenty-three miles away.

Cresbard has no gas station.

Cresbard has no grocery store.

Cresbard has no drug store.

Cresbard has no hardware store.

Cresbard is forty-three miles from the closest stoplight.

Cresbard is 220 miles from the closest Sam’s Club or Costco or Barnes and Noble.

Cresbard does have a tavern…but it isn’t open. Anybody with the rare combination of work ethic and business acumen who is capable of making a living by running a restaurant in a small town like Cresbard can use that same work ethic and business acumen in a larger town and make a lot more money.

Cresbard also has two churches. There is a United Methodist Church and there is the congregation I serve, Concordia Lutheran Church.

Thanks for that overview, Pastor (or is it Reverend?). Anyway, I stumbled on the “Casey Miller Book,” part of a family website – DonDennis.com.  It’s the story of Casey’s life (written by Casey himself).  He was born in 1910 in Tolstoy, SD, and posted his life story in 1986. He died in 2007 at age 96, leaving 8 grandchildren, 16 great grandchildren and 1 great great grandson. Here’s a family picture showing dad, mom and nine kids including Casey:

Check out Casey’s father, Walter.  I don’t think he approved of this family portrait!  By the way, “Casey” is a nickname; he’s actually Walter, Jr. Anyway, here’s a very small sampling of Casey’s life story:

1910 was one of the driest, worst years the country had ever experienced. Dad heard about a big dam being built on the Missouri River, at Great Falls, Montana. He headed west, and worked there for several months. He also worked for a time in Canada.

Mother kept the home fires burning, caring for the new baby plus four older children, two boys and two girls. I remember Mother telling how hard it was to feed the family on the little money Dad was able to send home. Codfish was cheap that winter, and our diet consisted mainly of potatoes and codfish gravy.

Mother was the greatest! We kids certainly thought so, and all who knew her said she could prepare good meals for her family, which eventually numbered nine children, on next to nothing. She was filled with all of the compassion and loving kindness needed to hold a large family together.

How great are the memories of our Saturday night baths, when she put all of us through the warm water in the old washtub and then stood us on the oven door of her old cook stove while she rubbed us dry.

I can still see her standing over that old wash tub, the sweat dripping from her face, washing clothes for the family of eleven, on the washboard. She worked so hard but never complained. What a story her life would make!

When we were small, our main playground was down by the slaughter house, about two blocks east of our house. The town butcher did all of his butchering in an old unpainted, frame building. It had a plank floor with a trough that carried the blood and waste into a small pond.

I liked to watch the butchering, and he liked kids, so we were buddies. The dirty pond served as our swimming hole in the summer and skating rink in the winter.

[I’m OK with the skating rink, but swimming hole?]

I always went barefooted when there wasn’t snow on the ground (and sometimes when there was), and would come home from the slaughter house with blood and animal hair covering my feet and legs. Mother would bring out the tub filled with water from the reservoir of the old cook stove, and clean me up. She never scolded me for it.

We had an old cat we called Muver Cat, as she always had a litter of kittens. One of my best friends was the middle-aged manager of the grain elevator, Bill Maier. He was bothered with mice and wanted to buy Muver Cat. We made a deal – he paid me 5 cents and I delivered the cat. The next day the cat came home, so we made another deal – another 5 cents and I delivered the cat. I don’t know how many times I sold him the same cat, but I heard Mr. Maier joking with my dad about it one day. This was my first experience with the profit system. My family has kidded me that some of my present savings started from the profit made selling the old cat.

Casey also presents this photo of a wonderful matchbook holder:

World War II Navy pilot Cecil Harris was born in Faulkton.  From Wiki:

Cecil Elwood Harris was born in Faulkton, South Dakota in 1916 and graduated from Cresbard High School in 1934,

Harris is remembered for actions in the Pacific Ocean Theater, which earned him nine combat medals including the Navy Cross, the highest award for valor after the Medal of Honor. He ended the war as the Navy’s second-highest-scoring ace, credited with shooting down 24 Japanese planes.

Harris scored 16 of his aerial victories in four different days, downing four enemy aircraft on each of those days. Never during the course of his 88-day tour did a bullet hit his aircraft.  It has been said that Harris “was arguably the most consistently exceptional fighter pilot in the US Navy.

Wow. I’m in awe of war heroes like Mr. Harris . . .

Moving over to Tolstoy, which, of course, was named after Leo Tolstoy (who, I’ll admit, I know little about). From Wiki:

Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy (1828 – 1910), usually referred to in English as Leo Tolstoy, was a Russian writer who is regarded as one of the greatest authors of all time.   He received nominations for the Nobel Prize in Literature every year from 1902 to 1906 and for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1901, 1902, and 1909. That he never won a Nobel Prize is a major controversy.

Born to an aristocratic Russian family in 1828, Tolstoy’s notable works include the novels War and Peace (1869) and Anna Karenina (1878), often cited as pinnacles of realist fiction.

In the 1870s, Tolstoy experienced a profound moral crisis, followed by what he regarded as an equally profound spiritual awakening, as outlined in his non-fiction work A Confession (1882). His literal interpretation of the ethical teachings of Jesus, centering on the Sermon on the Mount, caused him to become a fervent Christian anarchist and pacifist.  His writings on these topics had a profound impact on such pivotal 20th-century figures as Mahatma Gandhi  and Martin Luther King Jr.

“Christian anarchist” was Wiki-clickable:

Christian anarchism is a Christian movement in political theology that claims political anarchy is inherent in Christianity and the Gospels.  It is grounded in the belief that the teachings of Jesus are the only true authority over human societies, rejecting the authority of governments. Christian anarchists denounce the state, believing it is violent, deceitful and, when glorified, idolatrous.

More than any other Bible source, the Sermon on the Mount is used as the basis for Christian anarchism.

And at the heart of the Sermon on the Mount are the Beatitudes.  When you read them, imagine them being taken literally on a broad societal and political level:

From Matthew:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the Earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called the Sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

From Luke (actually from the “Sermon on the Plains”):

Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.

Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
    because of the Son of Man.

And here are “the woes,” also from Luke:

But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have already received your comfort.

Woe to you who are well fed now,
    for you will go hungry.

Woe to you who laugh now,
    for you will mourn and weep.

Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you,
    for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

Wow.  It’s easy to see the Beatitudes as the basis for a radical political philosophy . . .

I’ll close with this shot posted on GE, taken about 10 miles SW of my landing by Scott Shephard:

This photo of pasture land west of Faulkton, SD, was taken by Watertown, South Dakota, photographer Scott Shephard

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Long Valley (White Pine County), Nevada

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2559; A Landing A Day blog post number 1004

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N39^o 39.327’, W115^o 18.964) puts me in east central Nevada:

Here’s my local landing map:

Wow.  I often say something like “I landed way out in the boonies.”  But this time, I landed way, way, way out in the boonies. 

Let’s head over to Google Earth (GE) to actually see where I landed:

So, I landed on the east side of Long Valley.  It took some work, but here’s how I found out that I landed in Long Valley.   First, let me zoom back a little on GE:

So, I went to my blog posts for the adjacent landings.  In the post for landing 2205, I discussed that I landed in Butte Valley, location of the glacial-era Lake Gale.  In that post, I showed this map:

So you can see that the next lake to the west (the one for this landing) is Lake Hubbs.  When I Googled Lake Hubbs, I found out that it was in Long Valley.  When I Googled Long Valley, I was able to come up with this USGS topo map to confirm that Long Valley is indeed the one:

Of course, the star marks my landing.

The valleys you see are similar in three ways:  1) topographically; 2) geologically and 3) isolation.

A quick (very quick) word about the geology.  The entire region is part of the Basin and Range geologic province.  The entire region was placed under tensional tectonic forces (beginning about 17 million years ago, just yesterday geologically speaking) where the landscape is being pulled apart.  Cracks (faults) develop, and some hunks of crust are faulted downwards (the basins) and others (relatively speaking) are faulted upwards (the ranges). 

Here’s a cool graphic that shows the result of both tensional and compressional stresses on the crust::

The source of the tension?  As is often the case for sources of tension, there are various viewpoints and opinions, but for this family blog, it’s too complex to go into.

I Googled Carl L. Hubbs (after whom the glacial-era lake in Long Valley is named), and found a 1964 news release from University of California – San Diego.  From the news release:

Dr. Carl L. Hubbs, Professor of Biology and a world-known authority on fishes at the University of California’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography, has been recognized for his pioneering geological and biological work in the Great Basin Region of the western United States United States in a most fitting manner: The United States Geological Survey of the Department of Interior has named a lake in that area after him.

[Evidently, a biologist who dabbled in geology!]

Lake 52 (as it was originally named), in one of three long valleys in the region, is now officially known as Lake Hubbs.

Lake Hubbs in in a extensive arid area of interior drainage in which water does not run to the sea but rather runs into basins and dries up.

“No water except when a summer cloudburst is heavy enough to fill the 3 mile dry lake located in the center of the larger lake,” Dr. Hubbs said. “Most of the time the lake is dry and hard enough to speed a racing car across the flat surface.”

How is it that a professor of biology should be interested in dried up lakes in the middle of Nevada?

As Dr. Hubbs puts it, “I came into the area as an ichthyologist and ended up in Pleistocene geology.”  His interest was in the distribution of fishes among the scores of lakes when the lakes were filled with water during The Ice Age, which ended abruptly about 10,000 years ago.

He has found evidence of distinctly-identifiable types of fish in many of the lakes which were cut off from the other lakes in the area.  Since the problem required knowledge of how the lakes were connected at one time, quite a bit of time was spent studying the geological aspects of the region, including the ancient water lines and gravel bars left by the glacial lakes.

Dr. Hubbs discovered several of the lakes and mapped most of them, naming some for geologists who had worked on the same problem. Much of the area had never been properly mapped and about the only existing maps in some areas dated from the 1880’s, when the surveyors “must have had one eye out for Indians and made some pretty bad mistakes in the process,” he said.

So this got me thinking about how fish get to isolated, internally-drained lakes in the first place.  I seem to remember that somehow, birds carry fish eggs, and deposit them in otherwise inaccessible lakes.

I found an article from Science Daily that is based on research at the University of Basel – Switzerland’s oldest university.  Excerpts from the article:

How do fish end up in isolated bodies of water when they can’t swim there themselves? For centuries, researchers have assumed that water birds transfer fish eggs into these waters – however, a systematic literature review by researchers at the University of Basel has shown that there is no evidence of this to date.

Many small lakes are found in remote, often mountainous areas with no inflow and outflow. Yet in most of these lakes, there are fish. So how do fish reach lakes and ponds that are not connected to other bodies of water?

This question was already addressed by some of the leading natural scientists of the 19th century (including Charles Darwin), who all came to the same conclusion – water birds must be responsible for fish dispersal.

And they had a plausible explanation for this: fish eggs of some species are sticky and can survive for some time out of water. The theory is thus that the fish eggs stick to water birds’ feathers or feet; the birds then fly from one body of water to the next, where the fish hatch from their eggs.

A study carried out by environmental scientists from the University of Basel has now shown that although the research community considers this to be a proven theory, no studies have been published to confirm it.

“The lack of evidence does not mean that water birds are not responsible for the dispersal,” says Dr. Philipp E. Hirsch from the University of Basel. “But we simply do not yet know what roles are played by birds, humans and/or other currently unknown processes.”

So there you have it. Somebody working on their PhD needs to find birds that have fish eggs stuck to their legs or feathers . . .

Anyway, when I first Googled “Long Valley Nevada” I found that the valley had its own Wikipedia entry.  However, I quickly realized that there are two Long Valleys in Nevada, and the one featured in Wikipedia was in northwest Nevada, not “my” Long Valley. 

When I included “White Pine County” to my Google search, I found the USGS map already presented and this page featuring the valley:

The website is JeremyFelt.com, which is Jeremy’s personal website.  He identifies himself as an “open source student.”  He posted this picture:

A very long road in a very long valley.

He wrote: 

Looking back on the less famous Long Valley of NE Nevada on County Road 3, (not to be confused with the 25 mile-long Long Valley of NW Nevada that has its own Wikipedia page).

The map makes it look like this one is ~35 miles. Most of it was not paved. The paved was more like quickly blacktopped. 😁

Great driving day!

Thanks, Jeremy.

I’ll close with a couple of pictures posted on GE by our good buddy, Ralph Maughan.  These are both from Butte Valley (the next valley to the east), but there are literally zero posted pictures of Long Valley.  This looks more verdant than anything near Long Valley:

I’ll close with this shot across Butte Valley, looking west.  Long Valley is just past the mountains . . .

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

© 2022 A Landing A Day

Fort Thomas and Solomon, Arizona

First timer? In this formerly once-a-day blog (and now pretty much a once-a-week blog) I use an app that provides a random latitude and longitude that puts me somewhere in the continental United States (the lower 48).  I call this “landing.”

I keep track of the watersheds I land in, as well as the town or towns I land near.  I do some internet research to hopefully find something of interest about my landing location. 

To find out more about A Landing A Day (like who “Dan” is) please see “About Landing” above.  To check out some relatively recent changes in how I do things, check out “About Landing (Revisited).”

Landing number 2558; A Landing A Day blog post number 1003

Dan:  Today’s lat/long (N33^o 0.724’, W109^o 44.908) puts me in southeast Arizona:

Here’s my local landing map:

Oops. Only one “i” in Geronimo.

I’m going to jump right over to Google Earth (GE) for my watershed analysis:

As you can see, I landed in the watershed of Peck Wash, which occasionally discharges into the Gila River (45^th hit); which occasionally discharges into the Colorado (195^th hit), which occasionally discharges into the Gulf of California . . .

The Orange Dude found a road that crosses Peck Wash down near the river. Here’s his downstream view:

Just a mile due south on the same road, he found a bridge over the Gila.  Here’s his downstream view:

He repositioned himself a little so he could get a look at my landing while on the bridge:

From Sangres.com (“For your daily dose of wonders of the west”), I found this more picturesque shot of the Gila near Thatcher:

So.  All of the towns you can see on my local landing except two (Stafford & Solomon) can be termed Mormon towns.  In the 1870s and 80s, they were founded by Mormons, their early history was Mormon-dominated – and I suspect that their populations are still majority Mormon.  The Mormons industrially captured Gila River water for a system of irrigation canals that provided an agricultural base for the communities.  They even have a Mormon Temple (in Central).  This is a big deal for them, considering that just 85 temples serve 6.7 million members – i.e., one temple per 80,000 members.

I just added up some population numbers and the total population of the Gila Valley for these towns is about 20,000 – and I’d guess that about half is likely non-Mormon . . .

I’ll start way up north with Geronimo (although not titular).  I featured the famous Indian when I landed near Geronimo, Oklahoma (check out this post using the search box).  The only thing I’ll take from that post is this wonderful picture of Geronimo:

Heading down to Fort Thomas, I found out about the Wham Paymaster Robbery, which has its own (very robust) Wiki entry.  Here’s the Wiki introduction:

The Wham Paymaster robbery was an armed robbery of a US Army paymaster and his escort on May 11, 1889, in the Arizona Territory. Major Joseph W. Wham was transporting a payroll for several hundred soldiers in the Arizona territory consisting of more than $28,000 in gold and silver coins (worth about $750,000 today) from Fort Grant to Fort Thomas when he and his escort of eleven Buffalo (Black) Soldiers were ambushed as they approached Fort Thomas.

During the attack, the bandits wounded eight of the soldiers, forced them to retreat to cover and stole the payroll. As a result of their actions under fire, Sergeant Benjamin Brown and Corporal Isaiah Mays were awarded the Medal of Honor while eight other soldiers received a Certificate of Merit.

Eleven men, most from the nearby Mormon community of Pima, were arrested, with eight of them ultimately tried on charges of robbery. All of the accused were found not guilty, and the stolen money has never been recovered.

The meat of the entry is incredibly long; but there are some interesting parts:

Prior to the Wham Paymaster Robbery, there had never been an attack by highwaymen upon a paymaster within Arizona Territory.  Despite this, there were several factors favoring such an attack. Many residents of Arizona Territory held the U.S. Federal government in low regard, feeling it ruled the territory from Washington with little interest in the territorial residents’ well-being.

[Remembering that black Buffalo Soldiers were involved]:

Also, strong racial biases held by the white population against black soldiers were exacerbated by Mormon teachings that placed blacks on a lower rung of society. This led to a situation where some area residents could have rationalized that the payroll would have been better spent supporting the local communities instead of in the hands of black soldiers, who were seen as likely to spend it on immoral pursuits.

[The $28,000 was for soldiers’ pay throughout Arizona Territory.  Although not said here, I assume that a good portion of these soldiers wAnnaddddere black Buffalo Soldiers.]

Decades of hostilities between Washington and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints left hard feelings among the territory’s Mormon population.  Recent efforts to enforce the Edmunds Act, which made polygamy a felony, had increased anger among this group. 

[Hmmm.  I get the strong feeling that the author of this Wiki piece believes that the Mormons were guilty.]

The attack:  About 1:00 pm, the Wham party reached the site of the attack when they encountered a boulder blocking the road.  As they approached the rock, the group saw evidence that the rock had been deliberately placed in the road. As they then looked up to see where the rock had come from, the soldiers saw two men stand up from a breastwork situated above them.  The bandits then began to fire toward the convoy.  The first volley from the attackers killed three mules and wounded the ambulance driver.  The wounded ambulance driver dragged himself to a dry creek bed about 170 feet away.

The bandits apparently held a condescending opinion of the Buffalo Soldiers’ fighting ability and thought they could be easily defeated.  This likely played a part in the opening moments of the battle with the attackers firing mostly over the heads of the Buffalo Soldiers in an effort to scare them away. It was not until the military escort began to provide a determined resistance that the attackers began to shoot directly at the soldiers.  An examination of the breastworks on top of the ridge found one of the fortifications contained over 200 spent rifle casings.

[After a lengthy gunfire exchange (with no deaths on either side), the attackers drove the soldiers away from the pay wagon, and seized the gold and silver coins.  Subsequent investigations led to the town of Pima, where 8 suspects (all Mormon) were arrested.]

The wife of the owner of the Pima Hotel summarized anti-Federal sentiment by saying, “It’s just following the usual pattern. From the time I first learned of the robbery I have expected nothing else than that it would be laid on to the Mormons.”  The opposition even accused deputy marshals of planting gold coins found in the possession of prominent church members and making indiscriminate arrests in an effort to collect reward money.

About the trial:

In all, 165 witnesses were called to testify during the trial. 

[AYKM?  165 witnesses?!?]

During his testimony, Major Wham (who was white) identified three of the defendants as being among the attackers who performed the robbery.  Each of the prosecution witnesses was vigorously cross-examined by attorney Mark Smith, leading many to admit that they had not had clear views of the attackers.

Compounding difficulties for the prosecution were differences in the slang used by the black witnesses and the white jurors. This, combined with a reluctance by many area residents to condemn a man based upon the word of a former slave, may have caused the jury to minimize the validity of the prosecution’s case.

[Although I wonder why Major Wham’s testimony, actually identifying three suspects, didn’t hold sway.]

The defense provided a series of witness, described as “brothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts of each other and the defendants,” to provide alibis for the accused.  The defense took five hours for their closing arguments; Smith used this time to play upon the biases and prejudices of the jury.

[I guess the jury believed the alibis!]

He argued that the robbers had dressed in a manner similar to his clients in order to misdirect suspicion upon them and that the robbers had fled to Mexico immediately after the robbery. Smith also claimed the government officials who arrested his clients were more interested in the reward money for capturing the robbers than in finding the people who actually committed the crime.

The jury deliberated for just two hours before delivering a not guilty verdict.  Deputy William “Billy” Breakenridge noted after the trial, “the Government had a good case against them [the robbers], but they had too many friends willing to swear to an alibi, and there were too many on the jury who thought it no harm to rob the Government.”

 In response to public reaction to the quick verdict, the jury issued a statement saying, “We were present during the entire time of the trial, we heard everything that was said and saw everything that was done in the courtroom and heard nothing of what was being done and said outside, hence when we had agreed upon a verdict we did not know of anything to keep us in the jury room longer.”

Straightfoward (but meaningless) jury statement, eh?

A few more interesting tidbits:

• As mentioned in the intro, the stolen money was never recovered.

• The jury’s understanding of the instructions was that they were required to find all of the defendants guilty in order to convict, and as they could not agree that all eight were involved, they felt required to return a not guilty verdict. 

[Say what?!?  And this wasn’t grounds for a mistrial?]

• Major Wham was held responsible for the lost funds. He was relieved of this debt on January 21, 1891, when the U.S. Congress passed an act relieving him of responsibility.

[And it took an act of Congress??]

• In August 1892, the Department of Justice asked the U.S. Attorney to investigate charges that the jury had been bribed during the Wham trial.

[Wiki says nothing about the resolution of these charges . . .]

• In recognition for their actions during the robbery, Sergeant Benjamin Brown and Corporal Isaiah Mays were awarded the Medal of Honor.

Here’s Corporal Mays with his medal:

Amazingly, a very formal photo of the defendants and their attorneys was taken:

I’m not sure exactly what meaning to read into the very fact that this group decided to get their picture taken . . .

Phew.  Now I’m going to jump all the way south to one of the two non-Mormon communities, Solomon.  I featured Solomon in November 2017, and will present a few excerpts from that post:

From Wiki:

In the early 19th century, settlers founded a town at Solomon’s location, and named it “Pueblo Viejo” (Old Pueblo) because of a previous Native American settlement, the ruins of which were still visible.

Isadore Solomon

Isadore Solomon, a German Jewish immigrant, came to the town in the 1870s. He moved to Solomon with his wife Anna and three children, the oldest of whom was three. When the Solomons came to town there were only five houses in the town.

Also in the 1870s Mormons moved to the Gila Valley region, although no Mormons moved to Solomon until 1884, when they began large scale irrigation. Solomon and Safford are the only towns in this local Gila Valley region that has not been historically dominated by Mormons.

I stumbled on a piece about the Solomon family in JMAW.org, which is the website for the Jewish Museum of the American West:

Isadore and Anna Solomon were both born in Poznan, Poland.  [Hmmmm.  Wiki says Isadore was German.  Well, some quick research shows that the political country of Poland didn’t exist in the 1840s when Isadore and Anna were born in what is today Poland, so one could “accurately” say they were German, Polish or Prussian.] 

Anna Solomon

They immigrated to the United States in 1872, living Pennsylvania.

In 1876, the Solomons sold all they possessed and headed to New Mexico with three babies. They traveled by train – to the end of the line – and then by stage to Clifton, Arizona Territory.

Anna:

“We sold everything we possessed except our three children, and started on our journey to New Mexico. We had a very hard trip even on the railroad.  Traveling with those three babies was bad enough, but when we reach La Junta, the end of the railroad in those days, and had to travel by stage, packed in like sardines, traveling day and night for six days…when we got there I was so tired out to death.”

[They headed to Pueblo Viejo because Anna’s cousin owned a mine there.]

Isadore Solomon worked for Anna’s cousin as a miner until he landed a contract to supply the mine with charcoal.  The Solomons set up the mesquite-charcoal operation (and a new home) in Pueblo Viejo along the Gila River.

As the mesquite for charcoal was used up, the land proved fertile and productive. Isaac Solomon became the principal food supplier for four army forts and had government supply contracts for 25 years.

[I iwonder what the Solomons thought of the Wham affair?]

Solomon Hotel

The Solomons expanded into livestock, merchandising, freighting, and forwarding [forwarding??] as the Solomon Commercial Company.

Isadore Solomon opened the Gila Valley Bank in 1900.

Anna Solomon opened the Solomon Hotel (which became the social center of town) and also owned the Montezuma Flour Mill.

Phew.  There you have it.  These Solomons did OK!  They obviously figured out how to work with the Mormons!. . .

Back to now, and it’s time to close things down, which I’ll do with this shot posted on GE a few miles north of my landing by Lon Brehmer:

Teague Spring Canyon – McEuen Road, N of Fort Thomas,AZ

That’ll do it . . .

KS

Greg

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