ARIZONA’S BATTLE OF BULL RUN
When war broke out with Mexico in 1846 the
prize the United States hoped to gain was California. To
accomplish the mission the Army of the West was dispatched
from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas to capture Santa Fe then
advance across the wilderness that would one day become
Arizona and raise the Stars and Stripes over California.
In late September, 1846 the army under the
command of Colonel Stephen Watts Kearny left Santa Fe bound
A second column in Kearny’s army was made up
of Mormons that had been recruited in Council Bluffs, Iowa
to build a wagon road from Santa Fe to San Diego. The
volunteer group of citizen soldiers was placed under the
command of a professional cavalry officer named Captain
Philip St. George Cooke. The outfit was in need of a stern
disciplinarian and Cooke, an imposing man of
six-feet-four-inches was the perfect officer to take up the
Cooke had long-dreamed of leading a glorious
cavalry charge in California and was dismayed to be reduced
to sheparding a bunch of Mormon road builders. Little did he
know the results of his history-making expedition would far
out-shadow any glorious cavalry charge.
On October 21st, 1846, 448 men
and five women, wives of officers or sergeants carried on
the roll as “laundresses,” the Mormon Battalion set out for
California. Before they got out of New Mexico 58 ailing men
were mustered out as unfit for duty. When finished the
Mormons would have marched 2,000 miles making it the longest
infantry march in American history.
The battalion marched deep into southern New
Mexico, passing through Guadalupe Pass to the abandoned San
Bernardino Land Grant in today’s Arizona.
Just west of today’s Bisbee they picked up
the San Pedro River where they found an abundance of
They followed the river downstream on the
morning of December 11th near today’s Fairbank
the battalion found themselves being stalked by a band of
wild bulls who took exception to the intrusion of their
little river valley. The beasts were more the progeny of
left behind by Mexican ranchers.
The men loaded their muskets and prepared to
defend themselves as the animals, described as meaner than
grizzly bears, became more menacing.
Sergeant Tyler described what happened next:
“In the open ground, where the cattle could
see us from a distance, they would run away, but when near
us, whether wounded of not, they were the assaulting
party…..One small lead mule in a team was thrown on the
horns of a bull over its mate on the near side, and the near
mule now on the off side and next to the bull, was gored
until he had to be left with entrails hanging a foot below
his body……Some of the men climbed upon the wheels of the
wagons and poured a deadly fire into the enemy’s ranks. Some
threw themselves down and allowed the beasts to run over
them; others fired and dodged behind mexquit (sic) brush to
re-load their guns while the beasts kept them dodging to
keep out of the way. Others, still climbed up in small
trees, there being now and then one available.
“Brother Amos Cox was thrown about ten feet
into the air, while a gore from three to four inches deep
and about two or three in depth was cut in the inside of his
thigh near its junction with the body.
“Albert Smith, quartermaster sergeant of
company B., was run over by a wounded bull, and, I
understand, had three of his ribs partially severed from the
back bone. He suffered severely for several weeks, but
declined going on sick report to avoid Dr. Sanderson’s
cure-all calomel and arsenic”
Another fired six balls into a bull that was
pursuing. Each time he fired the animal went down then got
up and came after him again until the final shot brought it
down for good.
Another bull fell wounded near one of the
butchers, Robert Harris. He ran over to cut the animal’s
throat but when he bent over the bull sprung to his feet,
swung a horn around taking a swipe at Harris’ head. Instead
it caught his butcher’s cap on the tip and ran off with
In the midst of battle Harris was chasing
the bull shouting, “Stop you thief1”
He chased the animal some 75 yards before it
gave up the ghost and fell to the ground----and his
One enraged bull charged Captain Cooke, who
“I was very near Corporal Frost, when an
immense coal-black bull came charging upon us, a hundred
yards distant. Frost aimed his musket, a flint-lock, very
deliberately, and only fired when the beast was within six
paces; it fell headlong almost at our feet.”
When the bull began his charge Cooke ordered
Corporal Frost to run for his life “one of the bravest men
he ever knew.”
The ‘battle” raged for about an hour before
the bulls finally retreated into the brush. It was estimated
that some 80 of the animals were either killed or died later
of their wounds.
Poet Levi Hancock also composed a poem about
the battle. One of the verses read:
The Colonel and his staff were there,
witnessing the war ;
A bull, one
hundred yards away,
Cooke as easy prey.
Frost stood bravely by,
the bull with steady eye;
approach’d near and more near.
betray’d no sign of fear.
ordered him to run---
stood with loaded gun;
came up with daring tread
his feet, Frost shot him dead.
During the excitement, Lieutenant George
Stoneman, who would later become a general during the Civil
War nearly shot off his thumb with his own rifle.
Afterwards the battalion moved farther down
the river, coming to a little stream which Cooke named “Bull
Run,” and writing in his journal afterwards, he described
the incident itself as the “Battle of Bull Run.” Little did
he know at the time that his description anticipated history
by some fifteen years.
On July 21st 1861, one of the
first battles of the Civil War was called the Battle of
Manassas. Thirteen months later a second battle was fought
at the same site and called the Second Battle of Manassas.
Both are better-known today at the First and Second Battles
of Bull Run.
ORDEAL IN THE
In regards to monuments, Will Rogers wrote: “You don’t
need a large monument if the cause is good. It’s only the
monument that’s for no reason at all that has to be big.
On the outskirts of Casa Grande, along what used to be
the main highway between Tucson and Phoenix stands a simple,
concrete monument surrounded by weeds and objects thrown from
passing cars. It shows the ravages resulting from the passage of
The monument was erected to honor a campsite of the
Mormon Battalion on December 20, 1846. Similar monuments are
found along the old Gila Trail commemorating the historic trek
of some citizen-soldiers during the Mexican War.
Some were erected by the Boy Scouts, others by
interested civic groups or descendants of the Mormon Battalion.
Some members of this famed group of road-building trailblazers
returned to Arizona by way of Utah more than 30 years after the
war to take root in the land and build a new life.
The battalion numbering 397 men and five women left
Santa Fe on October 19, 1846 embarking on the second half of a
2,000-mile journey to mark an overland road to California. It
remains to this the longest infantry march in American history.
Captain Philip St. George Cooke and his guides,
Antoine Leroux, Pauline Weaver and Baptiste Charbonneau were
trail-toughened veterans used to the forbidding mountains,
waterless deserts laced by impenetrable boulder-choked canyons
but the Mormons, recruited by church leaders, were unprepared
for the trials and tribulations that lay ahead. They joined the
Army as volunteers to show patriotism and receive
government-paid transportation to California where they hoped to
locate a new home for their displaced church.
Their rugged determination and work ethic eventually
won the respect of the no-nonsense professional soldier assigned
the inglorious task of building a wagon road along what would
become known as the Gila Trail.
Captain Cooke had been disappointed at not receiving a
combat command would never know that their efforts would have
far greater significance than any glorious cavalry charge he
might have led on the battlefield.
The hardships endured were recorded in the journals of
Captain Cooke and Sergeant Daniel Tyler of Company C paint a
vivid picture of their desert ordeal
The Mormon Battalion left Tucson on the morning of
December 18th following the Santa Cruz River
northwest towards the Gila River. Seven miles north of the Old
Pueblo, the river disappeared into the desert sand. The
expedition set out, cutting its way through 24 miles of dense
mesquite thickets towards the towering spires at Picacho.
At about 9 o’clock that evening they made dry camp.
Sergeant Tyler, a stake patriarch in the Church, recorded the
ordeal of that first night after leaving Tucson:
“Struggling, worn out, famishing men
came into camp at all hours of the night, and the rear guard did
not reach camp until near daylight.”
Resuming the march the next morning at sunrise they
traveled to a place where there was supposed to be water but
when they arrived, the hole was dry.
Cooke wrote: “There was nothing to do,
but march on; there was the same baked-clay surface, with a
little sand. At sundown a very small pool was come to; to
shallow for dipping with a cup, but enough for most of the men
to get a drink by lying down.”
According to Tyler there was: “….water
enough to give the most of those present a drink y lying down to
it, which was the only method allowed. Dipping forbidden, in
order that as many as possible might have a chance to drink. The
main portion of the army, however, had no water during the
entire day, save a few drops which the men managed to suck from
the mud in small puddle holes found by the wayside.”
Later that evening the pack mules were turned loose.
Their keen instincts drove them to a small pool and they plunged
headlong into the water. By the time the thirsty soldiers
arrived it was either consumed or unfit to drink.
Knowing their only chance for survival was to press
on; Cooke urged them to move forward. By this time the battalion
was strung out across the desert for several miles.
Lieutenant George Rosecrans of C Company rode into the
hills nearby and located a small spring where a few were able to
fill their canteens.
The soldiers trudged on, crossing rocky arroyos and
mesquite thickets. Finally, Cooke called a halt to the march:
“The battalion had then marched 26 hours of the
last 36; they were almost barefooted, carried their muskets and
knapsacks; the mules had worked 47 miles without water. A little
wheat was now given to them.”
On the morning of the 20th, the scouts
left long before sun-up and were several miles down the trail by
the time the battalion resumed its march. Sometime around noon
the scouts found water. Canteens were filled, loaded on pack
mules and rushed back down the trail to assist the stragglers,
many of whom were now lying along the trail, unable to continue.
The little concrete monument standing beside the road
marks the spot where the Mormon Battalion camped on the evening
of December 20th, 1846.
Will Rogers was right; you don’t need much of a
monument if the cause is good. This almost-forgotten little
monument deserves to stand ten feet tall for it recognizes more
than just a campsite---it is a testament to the courage and
perseverance of those Americans who pushed ever westward in the
creation of this great nation.
THE GILA RIVER: George Stoneman
At the Gila River, near Gila Bend on
New Year's Day, 1847, Cooke decided to test the navigability of
the river by floating the supplies downstream. At places it was
150 yards wide but it was only three or four feet deep and
ribboned with sandbars, many of them submerged. Two wagon boxes
were lashed on top of cottonwood logs. Under the direction of
Lieutenant George Stoneman they cast off loaded with 2,500
pounds of food and supplies. Stoneman believed they could pole
the crafts down the river the shallow river to the Yuma
Crossing, some 70 miles away. They were supposed to be moored on
the bank at each evening's camp. But they were swept away in the
swift current then hung up on sand bars and could only be
dragged off after unloading the supplies on the nearest dry bar.
The men went without their supplies for more than a week before
the empty boats caught up. Pack mules were sent back to salvage
what they could from the abandoned supplies.
On the ninth day of January they finally reached
the Colorado River. The men were exhausted and half-starved, the
wagons in need of repair and the mule's half-dead. To make
matters worse there was nothing left for trading with the Yuma
Indians and without anything reasonable to exchange they
wouldn't furnish supplies to the men.
Their Arizona adventure was over now it was Ho
GEORGE WARREN AND THE STATE SEAL
That prospector you see pictured on the
Arizona State Seal was modeled after a real person, or should I
say, a rascal named George Warren. Anyone acquainted with the
old reprobate would be hard pressed to believe his likeness
would wind up on our state seal.
George led a rough life. His mother died when
he was an infant and his father was killed in an Apache raid.
Young George was taken by the band and later sold to a party of
miners for 20 pounds of sugar. He grew up in the company of the
rough and tumble miners and by the time he was grown George had
acquired all their vices, especially alcohol.
In the spring of 1877, Company C of the Sixth
Cavalry under the command of Lt. John Rucker camped in Mule Pass
at the south end of the Mule Mountains in Cochise County. Their
scout, an Irishman named Jack Dunn, went in search of water
further up the canyon and stumbled across some rich outcroppings
of copper ore. He collected some specimens and showed them to
Lt. Rucker and a man named Byrne. They agreed to go partners and
stake a claim but the demands of Apache warfare kept them on the
trail for the next few months. At Fort Bowie they enlisted the
help of George Warren to stake and record their claims. It
wasn’t a wise decision.
They equipped him at Fort Bowie and sent him
to file the claims in their names but along the way George got
sidetracked in a saloon and lost his grubstake in a gambling
game. Others learned from the drunken prospector of the rich
find and re-equipped him. Warren went to Mule Pass but failed to
file claims for Dunn, Rucker, and Byrne. The discoverers of the
riches were left out. At the site of the strike the boom town of
Bisbee sprung up and blossomed.
Two years later on the Fourth of July Warren
got into a drunken wager in Bisbee. He bet that he could out run
a man on horseback up Brewery Gulch.
Bets were placed and the race was on. George
Warren led briefly but the horse soon left him in the dust.
George had put up his share in the mine---the one that would
become the famous Copper Queen in the drunken wager.
George Warren never got to share in the
fabulous wealth of the Copper Queen.
He lived in poverty eking out a meager
living. He sold himself in peonage in Mexico but some friends
paid his debt and brought him home. He died broke and was buried
in a pauper’s grave but somewhere along the way a photographer
had taken his photo.
Years later he was reburied and given a
headstone that read "Father of the Mining Camp." It’s located in
nearby Warren, the town named in his honor.
The photo of George hung in a local bank.
When the new state of Arizona was creating a state seal someone
noticed George’s picture and they took the likeness and put it
on our new seal.
Marshall Trimble Official Arizona State Historian
Excerpts from Marshal Trimble's books "In Old Arizona" and "Arizona
Trivia" reprinted by permission of Golden West Publishers, Phoenix,
the following story is an excerpt from Marshall Trimble’s IN OLD
ARIZONA. - Tales of the Wild Frontier
The people in this story are both heroic and famous. Through future
issues we will explore the careers of these men and determine; if we
can, their place in history. One name that is in today’s news is
Horse & Buggy Doctors of Territorial Days By Marshall Trimble
On a chilly autumn evening in Tombstone, a dark, shadowy figure
crept up the stairs behind the Crystal Palace Saloon. Inside, the
raucous sounds of laughter mixed with the whirl of roulette wheels
and rinky-tink piano music. The man reached the top of the stairs
and looked around. Deciding his approach had gone unnoticed, he
struck a match and held the flickering light up to the sign over the
door. In a low whisper he sounded out the words, 'George Goodfellow,
MD." He opened the door quietly and slipped inside. The sound of
snoring drew him to the far comer of the room. He approached the
sleeping figure cautiously. It would not do to rouse the sleeping
doctor without using caution. Doc Goodfellow was no ordinary doctor.
A well-known pugilist, Doc was more than a match for any rough-hewn
cowboy or miner.
The intruder reached out and gently tugged at the sleeping man’s
foot. “Wake up Doc,” He said, Curly Joe needs ya.”
Doc Goodfellow was awake in an instant. He knew this was no routine
house call. Curley Bill Brocius never sent one of his men all the
way to Tombstone unless the matter was grave.
Curley Bill was the leader of one of the most notorious bands of
rustlers the West has ever known. Occasionally, one of his charges
would wind up on the muzzle end of a -45 slug and the outlaw leader
would put out the call for Doc Goodfellow, Tombstone's famous
For the next several hours, Doc Goodfellow and the outlaw messenger
would twist and wind on horseback through narrow canyons of Cochise
County until they reached the outlaw chieftain's hideout. There Doc
would perform field surgery under primitive conditions that would
astound his Eastern counterparts. In many cases, the victim was too
far gone to save, but this never kept the surgeon from operating.
Win, lose or draw, Doc Goodfellow would always give his patients
every opportunity to pull through. This was a period in medical
history of great scientific breakthrough; however, most surgeons in
Eastern medical citadels preferred to be conservative in their
treatment. Doc Goodfellow epitomized many frontier surgeons. Limited
in their facilities, they had no choice but to experiment if their
patients were to have any chance at all.
The fearless physician, on more than one occasion, entered
dangerous, smoke filled shafts to rescue miners trapped and injured
in a mining accident
He once performed plastic surgery on the face of a victim of an
accident, then refused pay because the man had been injured while
trying to help other victims. When the great earthquake struck
Bavaispe, Sonora, in 1887, Doc loaded up his wagon with medical
supplies and rushed to aid the survivors. To the people of Bavaispe
he became El Doctor Santo, (the "sainted" doctor) and was given a
special medal by Mexican President Porfirio Diaz for his efforts.
When his good friend and colleague, Dr. John Handy, was shot down on
the streets of Tucson, Doc Goodfellow boarded a train at Benson,
took over the locomotive from the engineer and drove the trail at
breakneck speed to Tucson in a vain effort to save Handy.
Doc Goodfellow had a proclivity for being on the scene when history
was being made. He rode with the army on one of the last great
Apache campaigns against Geronimo. During the war with Spain,
General William Shafter used him as an envoy. Goodfellow's fluency
in the Spanish language made him invaluable in negotiating the final
surrender following the battle of San Juan Hill. Doc attributed part
of that success to a bottle of "ol' barleycorn” in his medical kit
which he properly prescribed to himself and Spanish General Jose
Toral during the peace talks, lending a more convivial atmosphere to
Doc Goodfellow was a participant in one of Arizona's most legendary
feuds. Following the shootout near the OK Corral in Oct., 188 1, he
tended wounded members of both factions. Before 19-year old Billy
Clanton died with six bullets in him, Doc removed his boots. The
young cowboy had promised his mother to *die with his boots off." A
few weeks later, the physician was called out to save the mutilated
arm of Virgil Earp. Some four inches of shattered bone was removed
from the lawman who had been ambushed by a shotgun wielding member
of the opposing faction.
The next victim of the fighting was Morgan Earp. Morg was gunned
down, again by ambush while watching a billiard game in Hatch's
saloon. One of the bullets passed through Earp and penetrated the
leg of an innocent bystander named George Berry. Berry fell
unconscious and expired soon after of shock, or as County Coroner
Dr. Goodfellow "formally" stated in his report. Berry was literally,
'scared to death."
Doc Goodfellow is best known for his famous coroner report following
the lynching of John Heath in the aftermath of the Bisbee Massacre
in 1883 when five men held up the Goldwater-Casteneda store.
As the bandits left the store and stepped out into the street, they
shot and killed several citizens. The five were later captured and
sentenced to hang legally. A sixth man, John Hath, helped plan the
robbery, but did not participate in the killings. He demanded and
got a separate trial, receiving a prison sentence at the territorial
prison at Yuma. Most folks around Tombstone and Bisbee felt that
Heath deserved the same punishment as his cronies. A vigilante group
formed and, on Washington’s Birthday, 1884, removed Heath from the
County jail and strung him up on the crossarm of a telegraph pole.
This was the only lynching in Tombstone's history.
Now lynching is illegal, even when the victim deserved it; however,
it was up to the County Coroner to determine exact cause of death
and whether or not charges would be pressed. Doc Goodfellow, County
Coroner, had been present during the administering of John Heath's
"suspended sentence," as had many of Tombstone's usually law-abiding
citizens. Some had even played an active part in the Lynching.
The matter was resolved when the coroner's report was issued. Doc
Goodfellow, with his usual élan, ruled that John Heath died from ".
. . emphysema of the lungs which might have been, and probably was,
caused by strangulation, self-inflicted or otherwise, as in
accordance with the medical evidence."
George E. Goodfellow began his medical career as a contract surgeon
with the army at Fort Whipple. From there he moved to Ft. Lowell,
near Tucson, for a brief stint. Finding army life dull, he set out
for the boisterous new silver boomtown of Tombstone. He arrived in
1880 and for the next seven years called the city on Goose Flat Mesa
home. Doc Goodfellow set up his offices on the second floor of the
Crystal Palace Saloon. Old timers said he actively maintained two
offices, one upstairs and the other one on the ground floor. He
socialized with Tombstone's upper crust society but frequently
escorted some of Allen Street's more comely courtesans. He
languished many an hour promoting horse races, wrestling and boxing
matches. A former champion boxer, he had been expelled from
Annapolis during his undergraduate days for extra-curricular
George Goodfellow's sense of humor, sporting character and frequent
imbibing in no way detracts from his research and practice as a
Goodfellow published 13 articles based upon his practice in southern
Arizona. He was best known for his thesis on the treatment of
gunshot wounds to the abdominal region. His work was spiced with
colorful commentary. Concerning the weapons that were responsible
for much of his practice, he wrote: The .44 and .45 calibre Colt
revolver, .45-60 and .44-40 Winchester rifles and carbines were the
toys with which our festive or obstreperous citizens delight
themselves." While putting his gunshot treatment theories to
practice, the doctor made a remarkable discovery - bullets do not
penetrate silk. This might explain why gamblers and gunfighters of
the day preferred the garment. He
pioneered the "outdoor care" in Arizona's dry climate for victims of
tuberculosis. He performed the first appendectomy in the Territory,
and performed the first perineal prostatectomy in medical history.
The innovative physician epitomized frontier doctors who dared to
experiment while their colleagues in eastern medical facilities
Few doctors who entered Arizona during territorial days received as
much recognition as Doc Goodfellow. Fewer still displayed his flair
Among those who found fame, or at least a degree of recognition, on
the Arizona frontier was Walter Reed, who began his study of malaria
and yellow fever while stationed in Arizona with the army. Since
many posts were located along rivers, these ailments were a constant
menace to the health of the troops. Some posts had to be relocated
to more healthful climes. Assistant Surgeon B. J.D. Irwin was
awarded the first Congressional Medal of Honor for heroism during
the siege of U.S. troops by Colchis’s
Apache’s at Apache Pass in 1861. Assistant Surgeon Leonard Wood led
troops in the field during the final days of the Geronimo campaign.
He, too, was awarded the Medal of Honor. One of his contributions
had to do with adapting the clothing of his charges to the hot, dry
Southwest environs. Wood had his troopers strip down to their
long-handled underwear while pursuing the elusive Geronimo.
Many doctors who “Wested" to Arizona during the territorial days
lived out their lives in settlements and cities, treating every
imaginable ailment from rabies, snakebite, scorpion sting, and
gunshot wounds, self-inflicted and otherwise. Accidents involving
explosives, wagons and spirited horses were quite common. Much of
the surgery was performed at the scene of the accident with only the
most primitive facilities. Doctors amputated legs and arms, probed
for and patched up arrow wounds, not to mention victims of various
One such operation was conducted by a surgeon sitting on a tree
stump with his patient lying over a whiskey barrel. He reported the
heat, dust and flies intolerable.
The most spectacular-appearing and greatest killers were cholera and
yellow fever. Malaria and related fevers were the most prevalent and
had the greatest impact. Deaths resulting from these diseases were
far greater than the casualties produced by Indians in the
Post-Civil War period. During the years 1866-1895, 1,993 soldiers
were killed. In 1866 more than 1,200 soldiers died of cholera alone.
Cholera and fevers could totally inactivate entire posts, attacking
50 to 90 percent of the personnel. Of those stricken, almost half
were usually fatal.
Military doctors and contract surgeons had to display a great deal
of creative ingenuity in order to keep the soldiers on the remote
frontier healthy. One post doctor at R. McDowell gathered watercress
along the Verde River to supplement the diet of the soldiers, as
there were no other vegetables available. When supplies were six
weeks late arriving at Ft. Mohave, soldiers were limited to a diet
of nothing but beans and coffee.
Many of the treatments were more harmful than the actual diseases
throughout most of the 19th century. Folk remedy treatments that
were common subscribed to the old adage, "a fierce disease called
for an even fiercer treatment." Communicable diseases were thwarted
by pungent chest rubs and asafetida bags. The theory seemed to be
that the victim smelled so bad that nobody cared to come near enough
to catch anything. Whiskey and opium concoctions were as common as
aspirin. Addiction to drugs and alcohol were common. It was not
until the turn of the 20th century that a prescription was needed to
purchase drugs of any kind.
The period was a time of transition from ancient, superstitious
practices to scientifically-proven methods of treatment. It was not
until the late 1860s that doctors accepted that cholera was
transmitted from place to place.
Newspapers helped educate the populace on subjects relating to
cleanliness, sanitation, purification of water and disinfection of
fecal wastes. One Phoenix newspaper criticized local saloons for
soaking their spittoons in the town's irrigation ditches when others
downstream were using the same water for drinking. In the late
1860s, Gila and Graham counties had a running feud lasting for more
than two years. Each blamed the other for an outbreak of diphtheria.
A newspaper in Globe suggested that a deep canyon or high wall be
constructed to separate the rivals and halt the spread of germs. In
1888, some 40 children succumbed to the dreaded disease in the tiny
community of St. Johns. These figures are particularly astounding,
and tragic when considering the ratio of deaths to the number of
total children in a town the size of St. Johns.
From the hodge-podge of medicinal practices in Arizona that ranged
from a strange admixture of "granny medicine," voodooism,"
shamanism, legitimate pharmacology, garrulous quack and trained
surgeon evolved a rich medical heritage. These horse-and-buggy
doctors built hospitals, delivered babies, battled epidemics and
fought hard to overcome the superstitious mores of their generally
The saddlebag practitioners on the Arizona frontier also overcame
all kinds of natural obstacles to administer aid and comfort to
their patients. Dr. Benjamin B. Moeur, later a governor of the
state, once rode across Salt River Canyon in a cement bucket
connected to a cable in order to reach a patient on the north side
of Roosevelt Dam. Dr. John Lacy rode the rails on his tiny
velocipede between the mining communities of Clifton and Morenci.
One day while he was on his run, he encountered a train. The
unfortunate meeting occurred on a trestle. Dr. Lacy quickly climbed
off his vehicle and suspended himself beneath the ties until the
train passed. The velocipede was unceremoniously bumped off the
tracks and landed in the San Francisco River below. Unshaken by this
ordeal, Dr. Lacy continued to use the railroad tracks to transport
himself and his new velocipede because, even with its obvious
hazards, it was still the most efficient way to reach his patients.
Arizona History with Marshall Trimble
By Madeline Morrill 2005
Marshall Trimble is his given name,
State Historian is his claim to
We’ve come to listen to him every
it’s knowledge of
Arizona history that we
They said, sign up now before he retires,
But he says, no way, I’m lighting
too many fires.
It’s interesting, absorbing and
’s love for
Arizona just comes shining
What have we learned on this historical journey?
We’ve learned lots of facts and a
little bit of blarney.
There were ancient Anasazi or is it
They lived many years ago on those
high Colorado Plateaus.
The Spaniards came looking for
Glory, God and Gold,
was the place for those most brave and bold.
Trappers and explores came next for
the fur of the beaver,
Names like Walker and Carson and
Williams and Weaver.
Steamboats and camels came with the
They mapped and surveyed all of
Arizona ’s frontiers.
Finally with the stagecoach, along
came the women,
Sarah Bowman became
Yuma ’s very own “First
The “Easterners” started up the
Confederates tried to open up the
The westernmost battle took place at
The Apaches were just glad that it
wasn’t their .
The Indians loved this beautiful land,
They decided to fight as a mighty
The army sent along General George
And the Indians soon had to go by
The miners found copper and silver
They dug out the metals and had them
The greatest silver strike was the
With Rich Hill and Vulture, the cash
registers did ring.
On to Legends in
Levis - they looked mighty
good in those chaps,
Their cowboy hats soon replaced
those coonskin caps.
The Babbitt Brothers started the CO
Arizona ’s brightest
Cattle ranchers and sheep ranchers
just didn’t get along,
The Pleasant Valley War began and
boy, did it last long.
Don’t forget the infamous OK Corral
and pretty Winnie Ruth Judd,
She fought with her two girlfriends
and nipped them in the bud.
Horses and stagecoaches as
transportation were okay,
But the coming of the railroads
really brought a better way.
Just don’t say impossible to Frank
Murphy in Crown King,
People had to get to Ashfork, and
his railroad was just the thing.
Arizona the only place with a
capital on wheels?
Tucson and back, they had to
move their seals,
Phoenix became the best place,
No more changes now, so let’s start
the statehood chase.
Arizona became the 48th
George W. P. Hunt thought that this
was just great.
For many, many years the Democrats
Then along came Barry Goldwater and
the Democrats were cooled.
Air conditioning was invented and
the tender feet were coming,
They dammed up the water and the
power companies were humming.
They all began to realize,
Arizona ’s a great place to
The only thing missing here is a
good view of the sea.
Now our cavalcade is over and we
very much enjoyed it,
, you never bored us, not for
even one tiny bit.
May our knowledge of
Arizona just continue to
As you must leave us now, wanting
We hope you find that special woman,
the one with a thin cotton dress,
If we should happen upon her first, then we’ll send you her
She must be out there somewhere and one thing we know is true,
She lives in
Arizona where your heart is,
through and through.
“I hope we meet again someday”,
Marshall Trimble says,
Arizona road or maybe on the
Next time that you see us, Marshall,
please give us a wave,
For now, we’ll go our own ways and
try hard to behave.
And now we must go out and buy your
Arizona 2000 must really be worth a
There’s just one thing that we’d
really like to say,
Please write an autobiography - that
would really make our day.
Thanks for showing us
Arizona , with all it’s warts
With your humor and good looks, you’re sure not the average
If we have more questions about our state and
really want to chat,
We’ll be keeping a keen eye out for your signature black hat.