[BEGIN SIDE A] -- [Testing equipment for about the first five minutes.]

Babbitt: I might precede this dinner with a little remark that nobody's going to have to listen to any speeches. If anybody's going to give any talks, it's going to be Rube Niel, or Joe Pearce, or Jack.

Unidentified man: Say grace.

Babbitt: Nobody else is going to be allowed to give a talk tonight, so it's all going to be very informal. But the thing that we did want to do is to have a recording of some of the stories that pass by here tonight, because it probably will never be duplicated, and no one in Arizona has any knowledge of these stories. Madeline

Babbitt: By the way, what is this occasion?

Babbitt: What is this occasion? Well, this is, I guess, the first annual get-together of the surviving members of the Arizona Rangers. I don't know when it began. It began in the early years, along in the 1870s or 1880s. We'll find the exact date a little later on. But at the moment we're honored by having three of the surviving ninety-two members of the Arizona Rangers with us tonight. It's a very happy occasion for all of us. We're honored also by having Mrs. D. L. Baust [phonetic] down here, that little girl, the first white child who was born where?

Mrs. Baust: Born in England. First white child to go to school in Morenci.

Babbitt: First white child who went to school in Morenci. I understand she was very precocious and head of the class all the way through. And there's her nice husband, E. L. Baust, down there. Here's old Michael Christy [phonetic], or Mike and Amanda down next seat, and then next to her is that good-lookin1 commissioner of ours, Warren Petersen [phonetic]. We're fortunate to have a little strawberry lady from Oregon, Mrs. Jack Dodd [phonetic], adjoining her. And then to my right I have my charming little wife, Madeline here, who's Norm's girl. If any of you get hungry, come on up real quick sometime. They're cookin' a New Orleans supper for you, it's really good. Then we have Joe Pearce to the right, who's (unclear), and he's come all the way down, and he's driven his own car. And I'll let you in on a secret, (sarcasm) Joe is thirty-nine years old, aren't you, Joe?

Pearce: (inaudible)

Babbitt: Then we have Rube Niel [phonetic], whom I revered when I was a kid. I used to hear the name Rube Niel, he was an officer who protected us and made us all safe for humanity, and protected us from all harm and evil. And we're lucky to have Mrs. Petersen and [Mica's?] very nice husband, Dr. [Mano?] here. And Mr. Dowd [phonetic] is a gentleman who has his fabulous [cameras?] and also the ability now to use them. Jack Dowd I think is going to contribute a great deal to this party tonight. This is, as I say, a very informal little supper. The only thing I'll demand out of tonight is that I would like to say grace, and that's all I ask. And it's going to be a very short one. But along in the evening, we're going to have some of these stories as it works out, but the main thing is a spirit of fellowship, camaraderie and reliving the old times when possibly the location of this particular holiday house, or highway house, where we're having our dinner, is part of a cattle range, wasn't it? Couldn't have been a sheep pasture, could it? No! (laughs) What was it, Jack?

Jack: (inaudible, too far from mic)

Babbitt: (laughs) The guy that's got the top of (unclear). We'll go on here in a very informal fashion, and I hope everybody enjoys themselves.

Bill: Let me say a little.

Babbitt: Go ahead, Bill, all together.

Bill: There's something very strange about the stories that Arizona Rangers tell. No one seems to know anything about it but them. (laughter)

Babbitt: Well, what do you think about that, Joe? (laughs) I guess nobody knows what your stories are, except you fellahs.

?: I don't think there's anything strange about that, few of us were here to hear 'em.

Babbitt: Joe, you can tell 'em anything you want, but you won't, I know. (several talking at same time, none discernable) Woman: (unclear) 13. Well, that's been a lucky number, hasn't it?

Pearce: My lucky number. Woman: It certainly has. [Recording turned off at about Min. 10. Blank tape to Min. 12.0]

Babbitt: ... for the supper to come in. I thought maybe we could have a little get-together. I know it's a wonderful opportunity to have you and Rube and Jack here, [a majority?] Arizona Rangers, visiting with us for supper tonight. While we're waitin' for that little sirloin steak that we've ordered--I hope it's a good one, too, by the way.

Unidentified man: I think (unclear).

Babbitt: If you're not, I don't know who would be. All right, (unclear) mind talking to us for a minute. As three of the five living Arizona Rangers out of ninety-two or ninety-three--!'m not quite sure about the number. Ninety-one? Out of ninety-one Arizona Rangers, you represent three of the five living Arizona Rangers. I thought it would be interesting to learn of some of the history that went into your activities. I noticed that you have a number 13 badge on your lapel. That was the old Arizona Ranger badge, wasn't it, that was issued to you when you went into the rangers?

Pearce: Yes, number 13, that's the number.

Babbitt: How did you happen to get into the Arizona Rangers, Joe?

Pearce: Well, I'll tell ya', I was seeking adventure. I was young, I'd rode with the old Hashknife outfit at Holbrook, and I was in Holbrook when they brought in the first trainload of cattle from the Panhandle of Texas.

Babbitt: When was that, Joe?

Pearce: It was 1885. I rode with the boys, and I learned to speak the language of the Texas cowboy. They was always fine fellows to work with, but they were hard men and they were pretty hard characters.

Babbitt: What was their language mostly? Forty-five or something (unclear).

Pearce: More on the order of a .45 than anything else, their language. That's the language the boys spoke. The Hashknife boys were told that they were coming into a frontier country, about the time Geronimo was operating, and they came in well-armed to defend themselves. And they brought in a bunch of gunmen with them, to keep down cattle rustling, and to keep sheep off their range. There were probably 150,000 head of sheep running on the Hashknife range at the time. Well, as I say, I was seeking adventure, and there was a lot of cattle rustling going on in Arizona at the time, and they'd swipe Daddy's cattle, the rustlers got off with about a hundred head of cattle, and I didn't feel just right about that.

Babbitt: Where was you daddy's outfit, and what was your daddy's name?

Pearce: James Pearce, and we had a ranch right over near Heber, on Pearce Wash, near Heber. And right where the members who were participating in the Pleasant Valley War would come down and sup with my father, and I got acquainted with the Tewksburys and the Grahams and also many others who took part in that Pleasant Valley War. Well, as I say, I was seeking adventure, and there was an opportunity after one of our rangers, after the Arizona Rangers had a fight with the Smith brothers on Black River, and two of our boys were killed. I just enlisted to fill the gap.

Babbitt: You mean your boys, was that your father's cowboys that were killed?

Pearce: No, two rangers was killed who had a fight with the Smith brothers on Black River, (unclear). Two of our boys were killed, Carlos Tafoya and Bill Matson [phonetic spellings]. Well, I had an opportunity to fill the gap there, so I enlisted in the Arizona Rangers.

Babbitt: How old were you then, Joe?

Pearce: About twenty-eight (unclear) like that. I was called to Douglas. The headquarters of the Arizona Rangers were then in Douglas. Captain Mossman [phonetic] established his headquarters in Bisbee. And when Captain Ranning [phonetic] took command--Captain Ranning was one of Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders. He was a lieutenant in the Rough Riders and was active in the Battle of Los Grasimus [phonetic] and helped take San Juan Hill, and was very close to Bucky O'Neill, the famous Bucky of Prescott, when he was killed. He was standing right near him. Well, as I say, there was an opening to go in, and I had no star at the time, and Ranger Billy Webb, he had just killed an outlaw by the name of Bass. He was a brother of the notorious Sam Bass of Texas, that the Texas Rangers wiped out.

Babbitt: Where was it that he had killed Sam Bass?

Pearce: Well, he killed Bass in Douglas. I had no star when I enlisted in the company, and after Billy Webb killed Bass, Billy Webb was wearing star number 13. I had it in my head that it was really an unlucky number. So the captain came over to headquarters one morning and said, "Joe, you haven't a star. How about taking Billy Webb's, number 13?" And there was about eight or nine Arizona Rangers in the building headquarters and the boys raised up and they begin to shake their head. They never said anything, they begin to shake their heads and move their heads "no, no, no, don't do it, don't do it." And I said, "Well, Cap, how about putting it off until tomorrow? Let me think it over a little bit." So that night I paced down in Douglas, and there's an old lady there. She could pretend to read the past and the future of anyone. I handed her a dollar and I told her that I had lined up with a gang of gun-toters, and I wondered if that'd be a lucky or unlucky number. Well, she asked me my age and what I followed, and I told her. And she said, "Now, young man, don't pay any attention to that old English adage that if a cat runs across the railroad track at night it means a wreck. There's nothing to that. You go ahead and wear Star 13 and it'll be luck to you." And it was. I wore it through the years of service that I had, and if it hadn't brought luck to me, I wouldn't have been here to tell you about the Arizona Rangers.

Babbitt: When was it you went into the rangers? What year was that, do you remember?

Pearce: About 1902.

Babbitt: What did you get in the way of salary when you were in the rangers?

Pearce: We were paid a hundred dollars a month, and that looked like a gold mine to us, and we boarded ourselves, and we had to keep a pack mule and a good saddle horse, and we had to feed them on a hundred dollars a month, and covered all the territory of Arizona. Not one place we worked on the border until we were educated a little bit in the duties of a ranger. I might state, Mr. Babbitt, briefly what the qualifications were to enlist, for a ranger to (unclear) the rangers. (dinner chit chat)

Babbitt: We were talking a little bit about the early days of the cattle company. We were waitin' for that so-called steak to come out here. All right, Rube, what the dickens were we talkin' about here a minute ago, before we interrupted? Rube Niel, want to tell us that? We were talkin' about how the Hashknives lost some of their cattle and how some of the people wound up on a nice little outfit.

Niel: Well, the Hashknife Cattle Company was created in Texas, incorporated under Texas law, and most of the cattle came from what's known as the Sewell [phonetic]. It's on a little railroad that goes down. They call it GT&W: "Get a Ticket and Walk," is what they called it all the time. (laughter)

Babbitt: Where is this now, Rube, the GT&W?

Niel: Well, this was right down at the bottom of the Brazos River.

Babbitt: This is Old Texas, right?

Niel: Yes, GH&SA was another [rail]road that went into that country, the ones that the cattle are shipped out, and the trainmen call that GH&SA: "Go High and Set 'em All." The brakemen did, because it's about.... (tapes slips, several words obliterated) But there's where the Hashknife Cattle Company originated. And they were mostly financed by [Brooks?]. Brooks put in the most money. He was the old A&P Railroad. And they had this range. The Territory of Arizona granted every alternate section, forty miles each way from the A&P, in order to get 'em to build the road. So they owned this land, the railroad company did, and Brooks got the land from the company, and stocked it up with Hashknife cattle. I had a brother-in-law that came with 'em, worked with 'em. And I had a friend that run one of the wagons, by the name of U. Z. Ramm [phonetic]. They told me there were 38,000 cattle shipped in. Well, they claim the records showed something around 16,000 head they shipped out. Now (unclear) that was due to drought. It was bad, if you remember, along in those years. We had (unclear) for seven or eight years people just gradually went broke on account of not having any rain for their stock. But these cattle, most of 'em, your uncle bought a good many of 'em.

Babbitt: Uncle Bill?

Niel: Yes. And he turned 'em loose at Round Gardens (unclear) Dodge City. Back on that prairie country, why, the river come down out of Colorado, and he had a range in there.

Babbitt: Rube, may I ask you something? You talk about these cattle: what kind of cattle were they?

Niel: Well, they were white-face and longhorn mixed. They weren't as big, they wouldn't get as heavy as the cattle do at the present time. They were all nice cattle.

Babbitt: What was the Durham cattle you heard about in the early days?

Niel: Well, Durham cattle wasn't good range stock. They weren't good rustlers, they were more or less milk stock. That is, they required a great deal of care, more attention than white-face, a good rustler, you know.

Babbitt: Were they longhorns?

Niel: No. No, they were the Durhams. They was what they call heart-faced Durham. And then the roan Durham cattle.

Babbitt: Let's get back to these (unclear). They were white-faced cattle?

Niel: Yes, they're all white-faced.

Babbitt: Were they longhorned cattle?

Niel: Well, yes, much longer than they are at the present date, but they weren't really the long horn. Longhorned cattle at that time were almost extinct. There were just a few around on the ranges, and more or less under fence. But they were a mixture. These cattle were a mixture of the white-faced and the longhorn.

Babbitt: Were they all solid color?

Niel: Yes, mostly red, with white faces.

Babbitt: Were they pretty wild, pretty snaky?

Niel: Well, no, they were inclined to get wild. You'd turn 'em loose without enough attention or handlin', if they were rough, they'd get wild very easily.

Babbitt: What'd you do, did you turn 'em off the range? They were pretty thin, weren't they? You'd sell 'em to eastern outfits that'd patent 'em (unclear).

Niel: Well, at that time the Hashknives had some nice range. Now, one instance, you know what they call Cool Mountain, or what's called Meteor Mountain--it was Cool Mountain then.

Babbitt: (unclear) yeah.

Niel: When I was a boy, I went to one roundup. They cut twenty-three cars of cattle out of one roundup, and put 'em right on the Los Angeles market. They were all beef. And the grass was half as high as this table, sacaton grass.

Babbitt: Grass was almost two-and-a-half, three feet high, huh?

Niel: Yes. And now a barn rat couldn't get his breakfast on a good part of that country--just worn out. But at that time it was a beautiful country.

Babbitt: What is the difference between the early-day cattle and the cattle we have nowadays? Of course we know what these Herefords are, these white faces and so on and so forth. I was wondering how many hands, how big were your cattle when you had them?

Niel: Well, it'd take a good-sized steer at that time, weighin' 1,000-1,100 pounds, and now the average [turned 'em offa?] beef here, the average steer will go around 1,200-1,250, if he's had any kind of care at all. But at that time, you'd take and ship several carloads of cattle, they probably wouldn't average much over 800 pounds. That would be a fair average for 'em.

Babbitt: Tell me another thing. I've heard 'em talk about the old-timers. How far would a steer have to go to water in the early days?

Niel: Well, three or four miles. I remember seein' Bucky O'Neill run a paper he called "The Hoof and Horn," and he (unclear) in Prescott. There was a man in that country, Jerry Sullivan, he had quite a few cattle. His cattle, they had to look in this paper of Bucky's, and he had an ad in there, and there his cattle was ridin' a velocipede to water. There's a string of 'em goin' along in the paper.

Babbitt: The thing is, Rube, if they had to go three or four miles to water, and then they had to go back three or four miles to get....

Niel: Grass, yes.

Babbitt: In other words, the reason they had to go that three or four miles to water is because they had enough grass?

Niel: Well, it grazed off naturally. You take cattle, cattle are lazy, they're not like a horse, they'll lay down and eat. And a horse (unclear). And a cow, to get their appetite satisfied, they'll lay down and sleep. But they'll stay around water holes to avoid travelling. They'll eat the range, and then they'll gradually move out to water. Much of the range is depleted.

Babbitt: Rube, we were talkin' about the Hashknives and the big operation they had. I understand there was an awful lot of rustling going on. You were a law officer down there in those days.

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: Tell us some more about that.

Niel: There was lots of rustling. They brought in a bunch of--they called 'em rawhide artists. They'd take any brand that you could put on an animal and figure out some way to change it into another brand. Lots of natives here wasn't accustomed to that, and never give it any thought. When they woke up, they were pretty well robbed, by the time they found out which fellahs could do that kind of work.

Babbitt: In other words, they thought they had a lot of cattle running their brand, and the rawhiders come in and took it over.

Niel: And when they come along, now, for instance, you could take a Hashknife--there's a man came into the country by the name of [Boily?] Martin, and the Hashknife [looks] like this. He just made a circle out of the top of that Hashknife, and run another cross through it and put a bar under it.

Babbitt: What did he call that brand?

Niel: H-0 Cross is what he called it. He got off with several hundred head of Hashknife cattle. And of course they had men along with 'em, men, if they'd wanted, would protect 'em. Pearce

?: (unclear)

Niel: Yes, they knew how to do this. They brought the idea into the country, but they wasn't about to stop anybody, because that's what most of 'em came here for, is to rustle off the Hashknives.

Babbitt: The Hashknives lost a lot of cattle because of rustling?

Niel: Oh, yes. Yes, they did, they lost--it was heavy loss.

?: About that time (unclear).

[END TAPE 57-la, SIDE A; BEGIN SIDE B]

Babbitt: Good morning, folks. This is Tuesday morning, April 30, 1957, and we're continuing with our discussion of the early days of the Arizona Rangers. We have with us again this morning Rube Niel, Joe Pearce, and Jack [Bremman?]. Last night Rube and I were talking about the early days in the livestock business of Flagstaff. He mentioned the Daggs brothers came into the picture. They're the gentlemen who are reputed to have been the factor that began the Graham-Tewksbury feud. I guess there's no one living who knows more about the Pleasant Valley War and the Daggs brothers and all the circumstances surrounding this historic event, than the three gentlemen we have here this morning. Rube, I imagine in the early days up in the northern end of the state you came into pretty close contact with the Daggs boys, didn't you?

Niel: Yes, I did.

Babbitt: What were they, sheepmen?

Niel: Yes, there were five brothers: [Peeroo?], [Averill?], Jack, Frank, and Bob. They were all well-educated. Bob was a lawyer, and the others were accountants. They came to Flagstaff and engaged in the sheep business under the firm name of Daggs Brothers.

Babbitt: I didn't know there were five of them, Rube. I always thought there were just two.

Niel: No, there were five. I knew them all personally, well.

Babbitt: And they started out with the sheep outfit that ran stock around the Flagstaff vicinity?

Niel: Well, they were around Anderson Mesa and Hay Lake and Beasley Tanks. That's just about west of Winslow and out on what's known as the Hay Lake and Jack Canyon range.

Babbitt: Do you remember what their brands were?

Niel: No, they had wool brands on their sheep. I don't know what they were.

Babbitt: What kind of sheep did they run?

Niel: Well, they were what the Mexicans at that time called Palonas. They were a very poor grade of sheep. The word would indicate that they had very light wool crop, very poor grade of sheep.

Babbitt: I guess they didn't get very much tallow on 'em, either, did they?

Niel: Well, yes, they fattened fairly well, but they weren't wool-growers.

Babbitt: What would they do with those sheep, send 'em off to market, drive 'em in?

Niel: Ship the lambs when they had access to the railroad. They mostly went to Los Angeles and Kansas City markets.

Babbitt: I guess you don't remember what they got for lambs in those days?

Niel: No, I don't.

Babbitt: Nor for the wool?

Niel: No, I don't remember.

Babbitt: Well, they started in the vicinity we just talked about, and then they spread on out. Isn't it when they started to go into new territory that they went into Pleasant Valley?

Niel: Well, they wanted to use Pleasant Valley for a winter range. They met up with the Tewksbury boys, and they employed them to take these sheep in that Pleasant Valley country and winter 'em. They undertook to take that range away from the Graham boys, who were cattlemen.

Babbitt: Do you think the Grahams were in there with prior rights?

Niel: Undoubtedly.

Babbitt: And then the Tewksburys came in (unclear).

Niel: Came in, and they were misinformed in regard to the status of the Graham boys' rights, and they were led to believe that they were bein' deprived of their rights. And I think the Tewksburys were more or less honorable to start with, but they were badly misinformed, and become agitated or excited over being robbed out of what they--well, at least they thought they were being robbed--out of a personal right. And just one bad act after another led up to the Tonto Basin War.

Babbitt: Well, what'd they do, send a couple thousand head of sheep in, a band or two was it, to begin with?

Niel: About three, four bands, I think.

Babbitt: And then I guess they ran bands like they do nowadays, 1,000-1,500 head in a band?

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: And then as I understand it, the Grahams shot one of the sheepherders that was working with the Tewksburys, is that the way it started?

Niel: Well, I don't know just what the overt act was, but I think that they caught come of Daggs' sheep at one Graham boys' waterhole. And there seems to be some question as to who fired the first shot--the sheepmen or the cowmen.

Babbitt: Joe Pearce had a thought on that.

Pearce: While the Graham boys felt that their range was being intruded upon, and their rights, there was an Indian herder that claimed he was an Indian--not a Mexican, but an Indian herder--was found dead right at the campground, and right where the sheep were bedded. And the Tewksburys were very much angered over that. They laid it to the Graham brothers, while they never did have any direct evidence in this case. But that's the first shot that was fired in the Pleasant Valley War.

Babbitt: Joe, did you know the Grahams or the Tewksburys, any of them, personally?

Pearce: I was personally acquainted with the Graham brothers, and I knew Ed and George Tewksbury. We had a ranch right close to the Pleasant Valley, what is now Heber. It was on the old Pearce Wash, just a few miles east of Heber. And the Tewksburys and the Graham boys used to come and sup with us frequently. And I was well acquainted with Andy Cooper who was leading the gang that fought the Tewksburys so hard the day the Tewksbury wives were in the home where the Tewksbury boys were killed. And Andy Cooper two days later rode into Holbrook with his gang of five confederates and boasted that he just done away with the gang of the Tewksburys and he was in sympathy with the Graham faction. It was charged that Commodore Owens, who was the sheriff of the county at that time, was a little afraid to bother with Andy Cooper and his gang-especially Andy, because his name was.... What was his name, the right name of Cooper?

?: Blevins [phonetic].

Pearce: Andy Blevins was ridin' in. He was a tall, fine-looking fellow, dark complexion, and he "(unclear) to talk to Andy, and was well acquainted with Andy and Hamp [phonetic] Blevins, and all the Blevins boys. In fact, he'd sup with them frequently. Well, the word reached Commodore Owens that he was afraid to arrest Andy. One day these five men rode--about two days after the killing, (unclear) in Pleasant Valley with the Tewksburys, Commodore said, "Well, I'll show you what I can do!" So he went down to a little house in Holbrook near the railroad track, and he walked up in front of the building and he asked Andy, he said, "Andy, I have a warrant for you." Well, Andy asked him, "What is it, Commodore?" "Well, it says the same old case of horse stealing." Commodore says, "Well, are you ready to go with me?" He said, "Wait just a moment, and I'll let you know." He turned around and he gave a motion with his hand, like that, for the others to get ready inside. Andy was in the door, and Commodore was standing outside in front there with his little .44 Winchester in his hand. Just then, Commodore, said, "Are you ready to go with me?" And he said, "No." Andy said no, and at the same time he reached for his gun, and Commodore shot him right through the middle. He fell right on the floor. Then the others began to scramble around in the house, and he shot four of them, and then wounded John Blevins. John lived, and served a little term for resisting the law at the time. This was done on my birthday on September 4, 1877.

Babbitt: Did they take some shots at Commodore Owens? They must have!

Pearce: Yeah, they took several shots at Commodore. Commodore's horse was hooked out [out of the machine, the place?] just shortly afterwards, where the fighting took place. And Commodore's horse was right out in front of the house, and it had three bullet holes plumb through the heart. Well, he killed his horse, and the bridle was hooked over the gate, and the horse's head was held up from the ground at the time. I've set and combed Commodore Owen's hair many times. He used to come to my father's home, and was very friendly, and was very well acquainted with him. And I asked him, "Commodore...." He was one of the famous gunmen of the West, and I said, "Commodore, I'd like to know how many men you've killed." "Well," he said, "Joe, that's kind of a secret of mine, and I think you're a little bit personal, but go ahead and comb my hair, but be damned sure that you don't pull any hair out of my head, because I'll be just like Old Samson. When the women combed his hair, they got his hair in the [loom?]. Whenever he lost his hair, he had no more strength. And I know you don't want to put me down as a weakling." (laughter)

Babbitt: Where'd he get the name Commodore?

Pearce: He was named after Commodore P. Owens, the great Commodore Owens, a naval officer.

Babbitt: He was related to him?

Pearce: Related directly to him, he told me.

Babbitt: I understand he was a very striking character. He had long hair that came down on his shoulders, sort of like Buffalo Bill?

Pearce: Yeah, way down. I've combed his hair many a time. It come way down over his (unclear), down to his hips. He had a horse ranch over below St. Johns, what they call Commodore now. It was near Navajo. The Indians, he had a lot of blooded stallions, and the Indians stole two of his stallions one night, and went off with some blooded horses. Commodore would undo his hair. He would undo it all and comb it loose, and then he'd run after the Indians. His hair would stick way back behind, and it would scare the Indians to death. They called him Nachinde [phonetic]. You know what that is, Rube.

Niel: No.

Babbitt: It's the devil, isn't it?

Pearce: That's what they called him. They said their bullets wouldn't (unclear) to him. They shot at him and shot at him but the bullets wouldn't go through his hide. It was chinde.

Babbitt: Was his hair white?

Pearce: Red, just a brown, light brown.

Babbitt: Was he a pugnacious sort of a fellah, or did he just along in these things that'd come to him, and he'd take care of the situations as they arose.

Pearce: I'm glad you asked me that, Mr. Babbitt.

Babbitt: Call me George, Joe, my gosh.

Pearce: All right, George. I thought maybe you'd want this a record.

Babbitt: That's good, too.

Pearce: With pleasure. I've been in the cow camp, I knew Commodore Owens very well. I've been in the cow camp around Scoonerville [phonetic] and Holbrook and Dry Lake, when the Hashknife boys were there, and when there were tough men in camp. Many men were charged with crimes, and I've heard them talk around the campfire and say, "Well, if that long-haired SOB comes around here, he's nothin' but a damned tenderfoot. He wouldn't be a tenderfoot if he didn't wear six-shooters and have "em stickin' out in front. We'll teach him a damned good lesson if he comes around, givin' us any bakin' powders." Just as soon as (unclear) really hit the cow camp, the fellahs that'd been talking the loudest and the most, "Oh, Mr. Owens, come in. Here's a plate. Come on, I'll pour you a little coffee, Mr. Owens. And get up here to the table, Mr. Owens." They were polished gentlemen in case of Commodore Owens.

Babbitt: How old was he at that time?

Pearce: Commodore Owens then was about forty.

Babbitt: Do you know anything about where he came from or how he happened to arrive in Holbrook?

Pearce: Yes sir. He was born in 1867, and he came to Holbrook and made his home in and around St. Johns, first, before the counties were divided--Navajo and Apache Counties. He lived in what was then Yavapai County, like I did. When my people first came to Arizona, it was Yavapai County. Coconino, Apache, was all Yavapai County. When the counties were divided, Navajo and Apache, why, Commodore came in sheriff of the county. Very good. What was it you asked me?

Babbitt: He was a good law enforcement officer?

Pearce: Yeah. He died on the tenth day--in Seligman-- on the tenth day of December, 19....

Babbitt: It was along in the early 1900s, was it?

Pearce: Twenty-seven [1927].

Babbitt: He died of natural causes?

Pearce: Yes.

Babbitt: Did he ever get shot, that you know of? Did he have any holes through him, despite of what the Indians thought about him?

Pearce: No, I don't think he was ever shot. He'd stop at our ranch, and he'd go in. He was one man that went into Pleasant Valley while the courts were in session and the trouble was on, and they were trying to stop this terrible Pleasant Valley War. He'd go out in there lone-handed, into Pleasant Valley, and wouldn't take even a deputy with him. And he would bring men out of there, two, three, and four at a time, as witnesses, and some was charged with crimes, and bring 'em to St. Johns for trial in Holbrook. And the day this killing came on, in Holbrook, when he met this Blevins Gang, they called 'em, why, some of the men there said to him--Justice of the Peace Fred Water [phonetic] in Holbrook said, "Commodore, you'd better get some help. You've got a hard bunch to face down there." And Water said, "I'll swear in two or three deputies to help you arrest that gang, because they're a hard gang, and you know they are." He said, "Oh, hell no. Somebody might get hurt. I'll do that alone."

Babbitt: What did he do, carry a .45, huh, with the handle sticking frontwards, is that it?

Pearce: He was a two-gun man. I've seen him many a time, and I've handled his guns. He wore his six-shooters on one belt, with the stocks extending forward. The handle of the gun was sticking forward, instead of sticking back. That's the way he wore his guns.

Babbitt: He'd have to pull 'em out around that way?

Pearce: He said, "I can draw a gun quicker this way than I can this way." He showed me.

?: He'd cross over then, huh?

Babbitt: Yeah.

Pearce: Cross over.

Babbitt: He'd have to cross over in front of himself.

Pearce: He'd cross over, that's the way. And with either hand. He'd show me. When he'd come by home, there's a little desert country back of our home, and he said, "Joe, I want you to learn to handle a gun. You may have to use it sometime, but I'm going to pray for you that you never will." He'd get his gun this way, then he'd take his other hand and swing around and shoot right- or left-handed. He was like lightning, like lightning.

Babbitt: What kind of guns did he use, Colt .45s?

Pearce: Colt .45, long barrel.

Babbitt: The old frontier model, huh?

Pearce: Like Old Frank and Jesse James, the same gun. I've seen a picture of 'em. I was in Reno, Nevada, about two weeks ago, and I saw the guns there, the same kind that Commodore owned and used, and that Wild Bill Hickok used, with Wild Bill Hickok's name carved in the handle of the .45s. And a gun that Wyatt Earp supposedly used at Tombstone. And the guns that Frank and Jesse James used, with their names carved in the handle. They told me in Reno, Nevada, two weeks ago....

Babbitt: That's probably up to Harold's Club, wasn't it?

Pearce: Yes.

Babbitt: They've got a lot of guns there, I know. (aside about microphone) You know, you were talking a about Commodore Owen's long hair, went down to his waist. How did he take care of it ordinarily? Would he tie it up on his head? He didn't always have it streamin' behind him, did he?

Pearce: No. Well, I have seen him wrap it and tie it, but he tied it with a string like the women do, right around close to the back of his head. He wrapped that three or four times with a wide ribbon, about an inch-wide ribbon. He wrapped that right around his head and pulled it tight as you could, and took another little string, lower down, and wrapped it again, to hold it together. It was when he wanted to scare the Indians and make 'em think he was Nachinde, he untied his hair, and it set way back behind this way.

Babbitt: Was he unusual in any other way, than wearing the long hair? I mean, peculiarities, would you say? This long hair would be a little unusual, I think, for (unclear).

Pearce: I'll say this for him: He was the most cool and composed man I ever met. Nothing would excite him. I'd like to tell one little incident that showed why he was put in sheriff of the county.

Babbitt: Sure, go ahead.

Pearce: After the fight of the cowboys with the Mexicans at St. Johns on San Juan's Day, on the twenty-fifth day of June, the Mexicans killed a man by the name of Greer, and they shot up, killed a few other men there, and they put a few men in jail. They put some of the Greer boys in jail: Nat Greer and Dick Greer. They had them in jail in St. Johns, and he was very well-acquainted with the Greer boys, Commodore was. The Mexicans had these boys locked up, and had kept them there about two days after the fight. Commodore heard about it, and he went lone-handed, put on his two six-shooters and walked right down to the jail at St. Johns and asked the jailer to let him in. He said, "I'd like to go in and talk to the boys." "Sure, come on in." He walked in, and he said to Dick Greer and Nat Greer, "What are you doin' in here, boys?" "I don't know, but we're in here," and this Joe Woods at Holbrook used to be sheriff. Joe was in there at the time, and a nigger by the name of Jeff was in that jail at the time. He said, "What are you doin' in here, boys?" "Well, I don't know, but we're in here." He just pulled out his two six-shooters and covered the jailer and two other Mexicans [behind?]. He said, "Well, you get out of here. You don't belong here, just walk out." And in thirty days they had him nominated for sheriff of Apache County.

?: It pays to advertise.

Babbitt: Did Owens have any Indian blood in him?

Pearce: No. No, he was born in Tennessee.

Babbitt: Southerner?

Pearce: Southerner.

?: (inaudible)

Babbitt: Well, I don't know. Why did he have that long hair? Why didn't he cut it off?

Pearce: It seemed like he said that he felt better, his health was better with long hair, and he enjoyed it. He said, "When I was out lonely, I spent many a half-hour combing my hair and relieving my brain."

Babbitt: He thought he connected with Samson in some way, I guess.

Pearce: Yeah, he was. He said, "Don't you never pull a hair out of my head," he said, when I'd comb his hair.

Babbitt: Well, Joe, to come back to the Grahams and the Tewksburys: what were the names of the Graham boys, and also the Tewksburys? Do you remember the names of the boys?

Pearce: Ed and George Tewksbury, I knew them.

Babbitt: There were just two of the Tewksburys?

Pearce: That's the only two I was acquainted with.

Babbitt: Were there any other in the Tewksbury family?

Pearce: Then the old man was there. The Old Man Tewksbury, whose name was.... Can you remember his name? I used to know his name, but I knew Ed and George Tewksbury.

Babbitt: Well, they were just ranchers around (unclear).

Pearce: Just ranchers. I tell you, George has always been a little question. You see, about when Jim Stinson sold out, his place is right in Snowflake. Flakes give him about 700-800 head of cattle--500, I think--500 head of cows for his claim in Snowflake. He moved his cattle over into Pleasant Valley, and he let the Graham boys run his cattle. They didn't belong to the Graham boys, but he was running Jim Stinson"s cattle, the Grahams were. They said then, the Tewksburys, "You fellahs...." Now, this is an important and vital thing that I'm going to say about....

?: You're recording.

Pearce: I'm going to say one thing that's a vital thing about the Pleasant Valley War, and that's this, George, and I'd like to have it remembered well. The Tewksburys told the Graham boys, "Now, here, you're running cattle on shares with Grahams. We have just as much [red?] sheep and runnin' on shares on this range as you have to run cattle for Jim Stinson." That's what they told him. It was tit for tat.

Babbitt: In other words, that was an open range, (unclear), is that it?

Pearce: Yeah, that was open range.

Babbitt: And the fact that you were there first didn't give you a complete right to the range, is that it?

Pearce: Not exactly. And they thought it was quite a big range, you know.

Babbitt: Excuse me just a minute. (recording turned off and on) Excuse the interruption, Joe, but to come back to the Tewksburys, they were just normal, law abiding citizens on the cattle ranges in the early days, is that it?

Pearce: Yes.

Babbitt: What sort of lookin1 fellahs were they--big men, little men?

Pearce: Well, they were pretty good-sized men, straight, very erect. They were half-blood Indian. What stock were they, Rube?

Niel: Ubatella [phonetic].

Babbitt: Ubatella Indians, half (unclear).

Pearce: (unclear)

Babbitt: They weren't troublemakers then?

Pearce: No, sir, very peaceful men.

Babbitt: Now the Grahams, how about those boys?

Pearce: Well, the Graham boys seemed to be very peaceable men. They'd come to our home, and I remember the Graham boys, the first vest I ever saw that was made the color of cattle, they had spotty cattle, black and white, spots on 'em, and they left the hair on and made the coat, and made (unclear). They had their spotted vests and their spotted coats, and the hair was still on the skin, and the stripes on their arms. The stripe, that's what the Graham boys used to use.

Babbitt: Did they make the coats from the cattle they ran in Pleasant Valley?

Pearce: Cattle around there, yes.

Babbitt: They were sort of a mixed breed, sort of Mexican stock cattle?

Pearce: Yeah, they had Mexican stock someplace.

Babbitt: Did they have a pretty big outfit?

Pearce: Well, they had about a thousand head of cattle.

Babbitt: Pretty good outfit. What was their brand, do you remember?

Pearce: Oh! their brand was an "F" [for] Flake. They bought them from Flake, and they kept the same brand.

Babbitt: You said the stock was all mixed up, like Mexican cattle, different colors, black, white?

Pearce: Flake's cattle were a pretty good brand of cattle, but somehow they got this spotted mixed cattle in that country there. I don't know where they got it, but Flake's cattle were a pretty good brand of cattle, pretty big stock of cattle. But that's the kind of skin they'd gotten ahold of to make their coats and vests.

Babbitt: Well, now, you sort of feel that both the Tewksburys and the Grahams were pretty decent fellahs, both factions, but they got started on this war, and it sort of grew on 'em and got worse and worse, is that it?

Pearce: Got worse and worse, that's right.

Babbitt: Now, I've heard stories about some of the boys getting shot. The folks in the house, was it the Tewksburys in the house, couldn't get out, and the hogs came up and ate the bodies -- is there anything to that?

Pearce: Yes, that's true.

Babbitt: What was that circumstance?

Pearce: Well, this Andy Blevins--Andy Cooper, we called him, his name was Andy Blevins--and five of his confederates surrounded the Tewksbury home. I've been to the old Tewksbury home, and I guess Rube has many a time. I've been there. George Hubbard was my brother-in-law, who lived just a little ways away from there, married my sister. And I used to visit there, and George told me the story well. It was like this: they surrounded the house, and they opened fire on the house, and it was just like firing into a fort, for a day and night steady. They fired probably a thousand shots into that home. They killed two of the Tewksbury boys. They met 'em about 400 yards from the house.

Babbitt: They must have sneaked up on the Tewksbury boys when they were out of the house.

Pearce: When they was out of the house. There's others in the house, too--a couple more in the house. But they killed these two boys outside.

Babbitt: Before they could get over to the protection of the house.

Pearce: Before they could get back to the house. And they left them laying right there in the hot sun. The womenfolks saw their husbands shot down out there. They stood it just as long as they could, and they said, "Well...." When the fire ceased, the Blevins Gang ceased fire a little while, and these two Tewksbury women picked up the shovel and said, "If they kill us, they can kill away. The hogs...." There were a lot of wild hogs there, running in the country, these javelinas and wild hogs, too. But these were javelinas, from what I understand. And they went in there and went to rootin' the bodies, and they begin to tearin' their clothes off, and they could see 'em tear off the clothes off of the boys, and gettin' at the meat of the boys. And then they see 'em begin to tear the flesh of the boys. And they said, "They can kill us if they want to." Then went right out there and took the shovels, and each of 'em, they dug a hole for their husbands, and they buried 'em up. And they run the hogs away.

Babbitt: The Blevins, of course, were representing the Grahams?

Pearce: They were representing the Grahams. The Graham boys, they said George Graham, they thought, was there, with 'em.

[END TAPE 57-la, SIDE B; BEGIN TAPE 57-lb, SIDE A]

Babbitt: How many of the Graham boys were there?

Pearce: Let's see, George was the last one to get killed. I think there was four of 'em.

Babbitt: You don't remember the names?

Pearce: I can't call 'em right now.

Babbitt: Well, let's see, who do you feel won that war--or was it a draw?

Pearce: It was just as near a draw as could ever be made. Just as many killed on the Graham side, and the Tewksburys proved they had a powerful faction behind them. (unclear) and the Grahams had, too. They were just about evenly divided. Now, the question's been asked me many times. George, I'll tell you, I knew many of 'em. I knew Charlie Duche [phonetic] and I knew Old Man [Loper?]. I'll think of the name in a minute. I knew the Naglin [phonetic] boys, and I knew Old Man Gruelle [phonetic]. I knew Old Jake Lauffer, L-A-U-F-F-E-R, Jake Lauffer. There was certain sympathy on each side, and it was just about evenly divided. I asked Jake Lauffer one time--I'd like to make this a matter of record, George--! was helping to bring, trail a big herd of cattle in from Northern Arizona, from Holbrook to Tempe, for Will C. Barnes. That was just at the close of the Pleasant Valley War. When we got to Pleasant Valley, Jake Lauffer and the Naglin boys, and a few more rode up to our camp to look at our cattle. And Barnes asked 'em, he says--Barnes knew Jake--he says, "Jake...." Jake had got shot in the leg, and he was badly hurt. He owned about 400-500 head of cattle, Jake did, and he was in sympathy with the Graham boys. He said, "I'd like to know about how many men were really lost in this Pleasant Valley-Tonto Basin War." And he went right on without stopping, "Jake," he says, "I see you wear your six-shooter and your [long tongs?]. What's the matter? I thought the war was over." "Oh, it is," he says. "Why do you wear your gun?" "Well," he says, "I'll tell you, Bill"--called him Bill Barnes--"I'11 tell you, Bill, I wear my guns because I have some neighbors down here that are slow to forget."

Babbitt: Part of the Tewksbury bunch, huh? What did he mean by "long tong"? Did he mean his pistol?

Pearce: Long tong rifle. He had a rifle, it was an old.... (recording turned off and on)

Babbitt: (unclear) Tewksburys (unclear).

Pearce: Yes. Well, Jake Lauffer was badly wounded, his leg was shot and he couldn't hardly get around. He could just walk a little bit, and he said, "I carry lead now from the effects of this damned war. And I don't feel any too good. (unclear) And I've got some neighbors down here that's slow to forget. That's the reason I carry my artillery now." Will Barnes said, "Well, Jake, how many men do you think actually lost their lives during this war?" "Well," Jake says, "I've kept pretty good track, and I know of men coming in here that never went out. I know men that lived here that never went out. I'm safe in saying that about thirty-five men lost their lives."

Babbitt: How long did that war go on?

Pearce: Well, it went on for about.... It started in about 1886.

Niel: Billy Mose Vernon [phonetic] was sheriff of Yavapai County.

Pearce: Yeah, he was sheriff.

Niel: He was the one that made several trips in there to try to effect an arrest, or stop the war.

Pearce: He was the man that prit near broke Yavapai County, going in there on campaigns. He made two or three trips through that valley/country to quell that terrible insurrection, we might call it. And he put in his claim to Yavapai County, and they couldn't get a meal ticket--not a man served in the county offices (unclear).

Babbitt: Well, did the sheep keep on running as a result of the war?

Pearce: No.

Babbitt: They ran the sheep out of Pleasant Valley?

Pearce: The Daggs brothers pulled out. But I would like to say a little more about the Daggses, George.

Babbitt: Okay.

Pearce: My father brought in the first bunch of sheep of blooded Cotswold sheep into the Territory of Arizona, and he crossed them at the Pearce Ferry, and crossed over where Kingman is now, and brought them in. And we run sheep, I knew the Daggs brothers before....

Babbitt: When was it your dad brought sheep in?

Pearce: My daddy brought sheep in here in 1880.

Babbitt: Then your father met the Daggs brothers?

Pearce: Then the Daggs brothers lived at what was known as Daggs Ranch, up there just about eight miles or ten miles above Taylor, Rube. And they owned the Daggs Ranch, and they owned a ranch over near Show Low, where Scotts live now. The Daggs owned that first. And that's where I knew Averill Daggs and the Daggs brothers that Rube mentioned. I know (unclear) name. And Father ran sheep with them, they were very near neighbors there together. Then they moved out, and the Scott brothers came in there and took up the range, and the Daggs moved out to Flagstaff, and took their herds from there. And from Flagstaff is where Rube tells of [going winter?] and over in the country. That's very accurate.

Babbitt: Well, you also knew the Daggs brothers personally?

Pearce: Well, I knew the Daggs brothers personally.

Babbitt: They finally made a lot of money in their stock operations.

Pearce: They did. Yes, they were very successful.

Babbitt: What type of men would you classify them as being?

Pearce: Well, sir, they were very intelligent. They were well-educated men. I think they were up from Missouri.

Niel: That's right.

Pearce: They told me they were from Missouri, and I've never forgotten it. They were very intelligent men, and seemed to be very agreeable men, and financially they were doing very well. But they came down to Tempe and they opened up a little bank down there at Tempe and it seemed like this Graham faction had a good deal of influence with 'em, and the Daggs brothers went belly up in the banking business in Tempe. They found out that the cattlemen had influence, and they deserted them. They lost better than $100,000 in Tempe in their bank venture.

Babbitt: That's interesting. Well, thanks, Joe. Now, Rube had an idea about the Daggs brothers here. You feel that they sort of precipitated that war, is that it, Rube?

Niel: Unquestionably. They wanted that range. They had natural talent for causin' disturbance--raised disturbance, particularly.

Babbitt: (unclear) advantage, was that the idea? Their talents would always work to their advantage (unclear).

Niel: Oh yes, all the time. And they first started to take the range away from a man by the name of B. F. Saunders, who in later years moved into the strip north of the Grand Canyon, in what is known as the Kaibab Forest. And then from there to Salt Lake, and engaged in the livestock commission business with a man by the name of Hailey. But at the time that I recall, at first he was in near Soldier and Hay Lake. He had some Texas cattle, livin' there. Daggs brothers went over and gave him notice to leave. And he was a small man, spare built, mild-spoken old gentleman--a perfect gentleman. They went over and told him. "Well," he said, "isn't that kind of an unusual request?" Daggs told him they meant what they said. Well, they were diggin' a pit, they were going to make a dip there for some purpose or other, and there was a man by the name of Scribner, a man by the name of Wiemer, and then we called Indian Joe, and two or three cow punchers workin' for Saunders. Well, they had the Daggs brothers surrounded before they realized where they were. And they made Frank and Averill Daggs get down and throw a few shovels of dirt out of this pit. Daggs wanted to know what the purpose was. "Well," he says, "we're fixin' a place to put you if you come back." (laughter) So they took the burros and the horses and turned 'em over to the Mexicans, and put a guard over them, and told 'em to take 'em off of their range. And the Daggs brothers, the cowboys were gonna take their shoes away from 'em, and let 'em herd these sheep off from his range barefooted, and he wouldn't let 'em do that. He just told 'em, "Now, you get behind these sheep and you herd 'em awhile, and take 'em off. I don't believe in persecutin' people that are workin' for wages. If I start any trouble a'tall, I'm gonna start at the head and work down. I'm not gonna work up." Well, they moved 'em off his range. And then they were quite peaceable for a time. They found these Tewksbury boys, and they were, without a doubt, good boys, had no intention of botherin' anybody, weren't (unclear) or anything. They were just offered an unusual salary. I don't believe they realized what that was for. I don't believe they, at the time, realized that they were being led into their own destruction. But however, they went into Pleasant Valley with Daggs' sheep. Daggs, true to their way of doin' business, they stayed in the background, and hollered "sic "em!" to these boys, you know, and they got into trouble with the Graham boys. Now, that's as near as I could get.-- I talked to Jim Roberts quite a number of times, and he was in the biggest part of that war. That was his opinion of the matter. I talked to a man by the name of Chris Jergenson [phonetic] that worked on the out edge of that. He was what they termed "Daggs brothers' destroying angel." He was the one that sent the lightning bolts to kill the sheepherders after Daggs got in their debt. He told me afterwards he became very bitter towards the Daggs brothers. And he told me there wasn't any question in the world but what they just picked that fight with the Tewksbury brothers.

Pearce: (inaudible)

Babbitt: They figured they didn't have anything to lose and they might gain a lot.

Niel: Yes. And in later years, I became well acquainted with two half-brothers of the Tewksbury boys. They was Gus Shoulder and Tom Shoulder [phonetic]. And the Tewksbury boys' mother, she remarried and these Shoulder boys were raised in the basin in close to Prescott, out in the mountains from Prescott. And they told me without any doubt in the world that their brothers had no intention of encroaching on that valley.

Babbitt: They were just pawns in the game that the Daggs boys were playing (unclear).

Niel: That was right.

Babbitt: Well, did they really need that range for their operations?

Niel: No, they didn't. They just had a notion they wanted to go somewhere. Their idea was, go. Just a little contentious. Now, they jumped onto Hugh Campbell and Dan Frances. You know, they were just starting. Jack Daggs, and there was an old gentleman by the name of Gorham A. Bray [phonetic], run a store in Flagstaff. It's there where the drugstore is on the corner of Leroux Street--! think it's Leroux there--and Flagstaff.

Babbitt: Leroux and Santa Fe, I think, there on the corner. An old building there.

Niel: Yes, Santa Fe. Yes, it's an old building. Gorham Bray run that store. Two Campbells was in there for some purpose or other, and the Daggs brothers came in. And they jumped onto Hugh. There was three of 'em. (unclear) they begun to tongue-lash Hugh. And he stood there and looked at 'em, and I was standing back a ways, of course, listening. All at once, Hugh straightened out his arm and Jack Daggs fell about halfway across the building, got up, and one eye was swollen shut. (laughter) (unclear) around there. The Daggs brothers (unclear) around like a nest of hornets for about ten minutes, and Hugh stood there and never uttered a word, just stood there and kind of backed up toward the counter, so couldn't anybody get behind him, and stood there and looked at 'em. (unclear) finally turned around and walked away.

Babbitt: In other words, the Daggs boys were sort of physical cowards unless they had (unclear)?

Niel: All the time. They moved away in the later day and went north of Williams in what was known as No Man's Land in there. There was a strip of land between Tusayan and the Grand Canyon Forest, you know. And they call that No Man's Land. You didn't need any permit to run anything or go in on it, because that required a permit to get on forest reserve land, and Daggs couldn't get a permit to run sheep on forest land because other people had prior rights over 'em. So they run on this neutral strip. And I was a forest ranger at the time, and I had trouble with 'em continuously. They'd come up and come in on the forest reserve, and then they would deny it. Only sheep in the country, you know, and they'd come in three or four miles, slip in three or four miles on the forest reserve. And you'd go and trail 'em right off and find the sheep probably within a couple hundred yards of the Forest Service line, and then they'd still get up. They had two boys, and they taught those boys the truth didn't mean any more to 'em than it would a catfish. They'd tell any kind of s story that come in their mind. And Frank--that was one of the older boys, he was the father of this George Daggs--well, later the war come on, and Bob and George Daggs, George left the country. They cited him for draft, you know, and he got up and left. He was back here once, and they just missed gettin' him by about a door's width, but he got out again, and just where he is, I don't know. Some people say he's in Mexico, and others say he went to Argentina. But anyhow, he didn't go to war.

Babbitt: That's the last of the Daggs, huh?

Niel: That was the last of the Daggs brothers.

Babbitt: They weren't too well liked or thought of, apparently?

Niel: No place. Anywhere they went, they were considered people that were invariably lookin' for the best of it. Now, this bank that they started in Mesa. There's a young lady had taught school for a number of years. She accumulated about $2,000 in savings. She put it in that bank one evening, and the next morning the bank was marked "Closed." Her brother went and got a double-barrelled shotgun, went down and punched the glass out of the window, and Daggs run to see what was the matter, and he put this shotgun down on him, and had one of the brothers bring him out $2,000 and give it to his sister. That was one run on a bank that won! (laughter) He got his money. The people that told me about that was Frank and Harve Beasley. They were both witnesses to the act. They lived in Flagstaff, you know, for a good many years. You knew Al Beasley.

Babbitt: Oh, yes!

Niel: Frank and Harve were brothers of Al.

Babbitt: Al was quite a storyteller.

Niel: Yes, Al was quite a character.

Babbitt: Well, now in this Graham-Tewksbury Pleasant Valley War, can you think of any other phases of it, or any comments you might like to make?

Niel: Well, Jim Roberts was a noted peace officer throughout the state of Arizona. He spent part of his time in Jerome, and he had a horse stolen from him, and he thought that the Tewksburys had something to do with that, and he took sides with the Graham boys in that war, and he was in it about almost half the time that it was going on.

Babbitt: Was he one of these rangers later on?

Niel: No, he was a deputy sheriff in Jerome. You remember they had a bank robbery over there once, and you remember a man shootin' and killin' one bank robber and capturing another one, and they never got the money back?

Babbitt: Where was that, Holbrook?

Niel: No, that was over at Jerome. He was the one, he was an old man then, and he was the one that put up that fight there, when those boys come out of the bank in a car. He shot through the fender and busted the tire. And the tire careened and run off from the wall. You know how Jerome's built--run off from one of those walls. And that fellah got up and run, and Jim was busy with this other fellah. And the other boy pulled a gun on Jim, and that was a dangerous thing to do. Jim left him layin' right where he pulled a gun.

Babbitt: Did some of the Hashknife cowboys mix up with this war down there in Pleasant Valley?

Niel: Oh, a few of 'em went back and forward in there. There was Jim Saunders and another fellah. Oh, they called him.... Let me see what his name was. Gallagher! Gallagher and Jim Saunders was two men that used to go in there. They went in there just more for excitement, you know. They wanted to get into something, and that was a good place.

Babbitt: They didn't represent the Hashknife as an outfit, they just were individuals who were lookin' for (unclear).

Niel: Yes, just lookin' for some (unclear). Naturally they leaned, bein' from Texas, they leaned towards the [combat?]. Now, there was one peculiar thing about that fight. People that kept out of it, were neutral, [strict?] or neutral, neither a Graham or Tewksbury ever violated their neutrality. If a Tewksbury was seen going into your house and receiving any assistance or anything, they marked you as a sympathizer -- or vice versa with a Graham. But you just said, "I'm neutral," and kept away from 'em, they religiously respected your neutrality. Now, we lived fairly close to that war. Those fellahs mixed in that come up close to where we lived.

Babbitt: Where'd you live, Rube?

Niel: Stone Lake.

Babbitt: Oh yes, that was (unclear).

Niel: Yes. Now, they wouldn't come down in there and ask a favor. No matter how badly they needed it, they just wouldn't come, because they didn't want to drag anybody.... That showed the principal there was in both crews of men. They weren't askin' anybody to do any fightin" for 'em, or they weren't tryin1 to drag you into any controversy. If you got in it, you got in it of your own volition, not by them.

Babbitt: If they'd all fought like the Grahams and Tewksburys, it'd been a lot cleaner war, I guess.

Niel: Yes, it would, but there was a lot of bushwhackin'. That was done mostly by such people as the Blevins. Now, I never fancied, never thought they were a very good bunch. But I don't know, it's probably a mean thing to say, but I believe Commodore Owens done a fairly good job when he got rid of (unclear). (laughter) They didn't contribute any to the peace and quietude of the community or the safety of your property in any way by bein' there.

Babbitt: Well, they were like a counterpart of the modern-day gangster, to a certain extent--that group that you were talking about.

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: They were lookin' for trouble, and two-gun men?

Niel: Well, they just came in there, and that was an occupation. There was a time in the West when gun-toters, it was an occupation in itself. You wouldn't gain that idea through moving pictures and so forth, but you gained it by experience, you know.

Babbitt: In other words, they got paid to (unclear), is that it?

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: They weren't necessarily killers.

Niel: Range wars, why, they'd go in, and if you needed a lot of men, and had plenty of money, you could change their sympathy all right. (unclear) money, and they said, "Well, we're workin' for the man, we'll help him protect his property." That was their excuse.

Babbitt: Did it take much money to hire all those gunmen?

Niel: Oh, no, just a couple meals a day and a few spending dollars. Thirty, forty dollars a month would get a fairly good gunman.

Jack: Big outfits got a lot of homesteads that way.

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: Wipe out the settlers, huh?

Jack: They would wipe 'em out, the little ol' men.

Pearce: I knew the Hashknife boys (unclear) wagon (unclear) Pleasant Valley.

Babbitt: Who were some of those boys, Joe?

Pearce: I can tell you the names of 'em. I don't want to interrupt Rube.

Babbitt: That's all right, we're just tossin' this back and forth. We're gonna get to Jack in a few minutes, too, about Southern Arizona.

Pearce: This is Joe Pearce speaking again. I'm telling a little bit about the Hashknife boys, who left the Hashknife wagon at Dry Lake in the summer of 1887, to go to Pleasant Valley. They were in sympathy with the Graham brothers. They armed themselves well, and the man who organized them was a gunman who came in here, employed by the Hashknife. He was a professional gunman, John Payne [phonetic]. He had been hired by the Hashknife to keep sheep off the Hashknife range, and to keep down cattle rustling. They had two or three real gunmen, but Payne was the man who led this first party into Pleasant Valley. Will C. Barnes had a chuckwagon at Dry Lake, and he had a young fellah working for him by the name of Billy St. Joe, Billy Richards. (aside about microphone) Payne come there one night from Pinedale, and he said, "Well, boys, Old Man Blevins has turned up missing." He was going down there on the pretext of hunting Old Man Blevins. That's what he started in with. Barnes told him, he said, "Payne, you know that what you're going down there for is to mix up in that Pleasant Valley War." And he said, "I want you boys to keep out, you Hashknife boys. Grahams are peaceable men, and they're fighters from hell. And those Tewksburys, they'll fight, and you'll get more fight than you want. Those Tewksbury men are not going to--if you get in there on their range, you'll get more fight than you can carry off with." I heard Barnes tell these men that. Payne got Tom Tucker and Bob Gillespie, and a man by the name of Blevins--and you mentioned Tom Ticket.

Babbitt: Who was this Jim Saunders? Did you know him, and did he settle down here at Tombstone later on? Or do you know? He had a son that was with the highway patrol, [who told] me about his dad. (unclear) Curly Bill and all those folks.

Jack: I'll tell you who he was? You remember Mickey Roach shootin' a man with a shotgun there in Winslow, and disfigured him?

Pearce: Yes.

Jack: Well, that was Jim Setters [phonetic].

Babbitt: Oh, Jim Setters, not Saunders.

Jack: Yeah.

Pearce: Jim Saunders was a Hashknife man, yes.

Jack: Saunders, yes.

Babbitt: Okay, thank you.

Pearce: There was about nine of 'em.

Niel: You remember Mickey Roach well?

Pearce: Yes.

Niel: Well, you remember in Winslow they had a row there in a saloon. Mickey Roach shot a man in the face, or tore off part of his chin, disfigured him.

Pearce: Yes, I heard about it, Rube.

Babbitt: (unclear) Now, who were some of the rest of these fellahs? (unclear)

Pearce: That's all right, George. There was.... Now, just a minute. Tom Pickett, he was another gunman. And a fellah by the name, they called him Eugene Clark, but that was not his name. His name was Middleton.

Jack: Joe Middleton.

Pearce: Yeah. And there was about nine of 'em that left. I saw them when they got their arms, they sat up and talked and drank coffee all night. Then Billy St. Joe went out, and this brought on a very humorous matter a little bit later. Billy St. Joe and Barnes, when they got ready to leave the next morning, they got all the arms and ammunition they could dig out of the Hashknife chuckwagon and out of Barnes' wagon, that they could steal out, to be armed to go down there. They never took a pack horse or anything. Barnes told 'em, "You keep out of there. You'll find more trouble than you want. Those Tewksburys will fight." And Payne said, "Well, we'll go down and clean up on those mutton-eaters. It won't be much of a job. And then the Pleasant Valley War will be over." And Payne told these Hashknife boys, "After this war is over, we can go in there and get a little bunch of cattle and go into the cattle business." Told all these men. He said, "That's where we'll wind up. We'll wind up in Pleasant Valley in the cow business and clean out these mutton-eaters." Just before they left, Will C. Barnes told Billy St. Joe, his range foreman, "Billy, you go out. You know the boys." And Billy went out and said, "Boys, I know those Tewksburys over there. They're gamey fellahs. I think a lot of you. We've worked together here. You boys stay out, don't you go over there. You'll get more fight than you want." Well, Payne led them off. And unfortunately for them, they went right up into the Middleton Ranch. They rode right up to the Middleton Ranch. And Ed and George Tewksbury were in the loft, and there's portholes in the loft of that old building. And John Payne got down, and there was a lady there at the door. They didn't know--these Hashknife boys were unfortunate, they didn't know where anyone lived, they hadn't been over there before. And the lady came to the door, and Payne said, "Madame, what are the chances of gettin' a bite to eat?" Well, she said, "We're not running a hotel here. We'd rather you'd retire at once. You're a danger, gentleman." Ed and George Tewksbury could see the brand on the Hashknife horses. They said, "They're not in sympathy with us, they're against us. They're in here hunting a fight, and I guess we'd better give 'em a little." The first shot, they shot Payne twice through the middle, and he fell right in the door in front of that lady. Then they shot Blevins, shot him and killed him. He fell off his horse, right beside the boys that hadn't dismounted yet--only Payne. Then they shot Tom Tucker through the thigh, and they shot Bob Gillespie through the rump, cheek, and tore off a hole in him. These two Hashknife boys there, the horses....

[END TAPE 57-lb, SIDE A; BEGIN SIDE B]

Babbitt: Did they kill him?

Pearce: The horses fell out from under 'em, and they crawled on their hands and knees and it rained on 'em all night, it saved their lives. They crawled two miles on their hands and knees, and they were both fly blowed when they got to the next ranch. (unclear) they were just plumb full of fly blows [i.e. maggots]. One Hashknife boy, Collin Wright [phonetic], he never did come back. Maybe it was MacNeil. I think it was MacNeil--he left and never did come back. Well, that was a slaughter.

Babbitt: How many were killed in that fight?

Pearce: There was about three men killed and about two men wounded in the fight. Now, I'd like to say, George, that this gave the Hashknife Cattle Company and the Hashknife boys a black name that they were not entitled to. They were called gunmen from then on. They were made up of gunmen. This is why they were so famous in the state and in the West as gun men, (unclear) war where they had no business. I'd like to tell you a little humor now, in connection with that. About two weeks later, when Tom Tucker and Bob Gillespie were able to ride, they came in to the Hashknife wagon near Heber, and they were tipped sideways in the saddle when they rode up, and the Hashknife boys went out -- they didn't know what the trouble was. And they said, "Come and help us down." They helped 'em down out of their saddles and got 'em over to camp, and Billy St. Joe said to Bob Gillespie, "Bob, how'd you come out down in Pleasant Valley?" Bob Gillespie unbuttoned his britches and dropped 'em down and he showed 'em a terrible hole that was shot through his side here. "Billy," he said, "this souvenir is all I got out of it." Then pretty quick Bill said, "Bob, I hear that...." (recording turned off and on)

Babbitt: Joe, we ran off that tape again. Again, pardon the interruption. You were telling something humorous about the Hashknife cowboys getting shot up in the Graham-Tewksbury (unclear).

Pearce: Yes. [Extremely poor tape quality, electronic hum in tape, voice quality distorted, sounds raspy. Quality improves in just a minute or so. (Tr.)]

Pearce: This fellah, Bob Gillespie, was a slow-talking old fellah, and he'd been shot with (unclear), black powder, and it'd torn half his seat off. He was in a bad shape. Billy St. Joe, he was kind of a humorous fellow. He wanted to have a little fun out of poor old Bob, if he was badly wounded. Billy spoke up and he said, "Well, Bob, I hear that if the vigilantes, the vigilance committee ever catches you up on the Tonto Rim, they're gonna swing you to a pine." Bob waited for a minute and he said, "Billy St. Joe, you can just tell 'em for me that if they ever swing Old Bob to a pine, they'll have to move the pine down on the alkali flats of Holbrook and Winslow, 'cause I ain't a-goin' back." (laughter)

Babbitt: He had a belly full (unclear). Well, you know, there's one question that isn't quite clear to me. We talk about the war and you just told how this Hashknife group came up to the Tewksbury Ranch. But generally speaking, how was the war carried on? Was it just sniping at individual cowboys, or sheepherders? Or were there organized battles other than the one the Grahams and Tewksburys had where the hogs ate the men? How was the war carried on?

Pearce: George, the way I had it put up--and I think I'm right--was there were certain factions on either side, and both factions were well-known to each other, and they respected their factions highly. Each faction knew who was for them and against them. And in Pleasant Valley, they knew one thing, "You're either for us or against us." And with strangers coming in there, passing through the country, they must give a very good story to get through to show that they were neutral, or they wouldn't get through the valley.

Babbitt: Did they snipe at each other? If a fellah was out on the range, was he liable to get shot by one of the others?

Pearce: Oh yes, there was a lot of sniping. They did a lot of sniping, killing, and they killed a lot of 'em that was never told, and there was no history ever made of it.

Babbitt: It was generally (unclear) little individual encounters of one or two men, at unplanned occasions that carried on? That's the way the war was carried on?

Pearce: Yeah, that's the way to do. And different times, (unclear) men were shot down through mistake, too. Over at the [Perkins?] Ranch.

Niel: Probably a third of the battles that were fought are not a matter of record.

Pearce: There's not a matter of record, and two men were just wantin' to shoot down from the Perkins Ranch, and they killed--there were men that shouldn't have been killed, the one mistake they made, that history doesn't record well.

Babbitt: I guess you didn't take time to go too much into a fellah's past. (unclear) shoot first and ask questions afterwards, is that it?

Pearce: Yes, I know one boy by the name of Sanders, undertook to ride through Pleasant Valley, and he was killed. He was sniped as he went on the trail.

Babbitt: Had no part of either faction, either.

Pearce: And he had no interest in either faction. He was George Sanders, knew him well.

Niel: He probably done by some sympathizer (unclear) either a Graham or a Tewksbury, because (unclear).

Babbitt: They were pretty square?

Niel: Yeah, they were. They were pretty much men all the way through both of 'em. Both sides were in that fight. All the sniping and cowardly work which was done was done by sympathizers or somebody that had an axe to grind some way or another. It wasn't any use to ask a man why he was in that war. Lots of 'em couldn't have told you.

Babbitt: (unclear) the Tewksburys ran onto each other, they started shootin'.

Niel: Oh, yes.

Babbitt: That was accidental, in most cases, when they did encounter each other.

Niel: They hunted each other. They got a little bold, you know. They didn't give 'em a chance to get (unclear). If they felt they could go and strike and (unclear) off of balance, it was kind of like a prize fight. They was on their guard. They'd go out [to Elton?] and have a battle, or go in and charge a man. The Tewksburys knew that the Grahams were fortified in certain places. They'd go over there and watch for an even break or an advantage, and fight, and fought a battle with 'em. And that happened in several instances.

Babbitt: Must have taken a lot of nerve to stay in that country, the way things were.

Niel: Well, it did. It took a lot of nerve. And you know [our sympathy] has always been with Grahams to just this extent: That they were just innocent of any intention, had no idea of a range war or anything else until it just come on out of a clear sky, as people sent those men in there, and begin to kick 'em around. Well, they were of a disposition that they wouldn't stand much abuse.

Babbitt: It gets back to the fact that they were invaded. What did the Tewksburys do before they went in with the Daggs on the sheep operation?

Niel: Well, they were just itinerants, workers, when Daggs picked 'em up. They hadn't been in the country too long.

Babbitt: They didn't have any ranches in Pleasant Valley at all?

Niel: No. And there's one thing where they were at a slight disadvantage. The Grahams knew that country much better than the Tewksburys did.

Babbitt: And you don't know.... Who backed the Tewksburys then? Other than the Daggs (unclear).

Niel: That's all. We don't know. Common sense would tell you that they got an immense amount of help. But just where it come from, I never heard anybody say. George mentioned two instances, but it was news to me. I never knew those two parties and the sympathizers.

Pearce: John (unclear) very notorious gunman and (unclear) Tewksburys. Another man there was one of the most famous gunmen in the Pleasant Valley War was Charlie Duche. And he was a man that wouldn't talk much, but he was one of the most famous gunmen. He remained neutral for a while and finally he went on the Grahams' side. But he was a factor in that war, was Charlie Duche.

Babbitt: I heard a story about some eastern kid was out on the edge of the Pleasant Valley there, and settled down. [Duke?] came along and took him out and hanged him with a couple of people that were visiting him. Do you know anything about that story?

Niel: Yes. I don't know the name, but I know that that happened. I know that they got a boy that was in there. He was innocent of any wrong doing. He had no acquaintance with either side, but they come along and found him in what they considered Tewksbury territory, and he was murdered, that's all, hanged.

Babbitt: Did they take them out and hang them? I understand there was somebody visiting with this fellow, too. They took his guests out and hanged them along with the little guy.

Niel: If I recall correctly, Jim Hawk....

Pearce: (inaudible, too far from mic) (several talking at same time, none discernable)

Babbitt: Within gunshot of this ranch?

Pearce: My own ranch (unclear) Pearce Ranch. You mean where the hangin' took place? Jim (unclear).

Babbitt: I think that's it, yeah.

Pearce: I know that story (unclear).

Babbitt: All right, fine, Joe, if you will please.

Pearce: I sure can.

Babbitt: Want to sit down?

?: Here Joe, you sit here.

Pearce: That's a story I'll be happy to tell you.

Babbitt: I know that Earl Forrest, when he wrote that chapter on that hanging, wasn't too definite as to the circumstances (unclear).

Pearce: I'll be straight from the shoulder on that one.

Babbitt: All right, good.

Pearce: I knew every man that was in that little town. I knew them. All right, this is Joe Pearce speaking, and I'd like to tell about the hanging which occurred at the Jim Stott [phonetic] Ranch in Navajo County, where Jim Stott, Jim Wilson, and Jim Scott were hanged on the old Verde Road, just a few miles south of Heber. Jim Stott owned a horse ranch called the Stott Ranch, and it was kind of a central place for cowmen and drifters going through the country to stop at his ranch. And he would feed most anyone who came there. There was a man by the name of Bob Wilson and Jim Scott--now understand me, Scott, not Stott, S-T-0-T-T. Stott owned the ranch. Bob Wilson and Jim Scott were visiting at the ranch. There was some horse stealing going on from the north side of the Tonto Rim to the Pleasant Valley. And there was a group of men organized who called themselves sort of a vigilance committee. They took it upon themselves that they were going to make an example of someone, to try to break up this string of horse stealing. So they rode up. They were led by--I don't know whether Al should tell it, but I know the men, who was leading the men, who went up to the Stott Ranch, and I'll tell a little more before I get through with the story. (unclear) this group of men, they were made up of citizens from around Holbrook, and one or two from Pleasant Valley. They knocked at the door, and these three men were inside and told 'em to come out, and wanted to take a ride. And they ate a little breakfast together and saddled up and headed due west, went along the mountain on the Old Verde Road to about eight, ten miles south of Heber. And (unclear) one man said, "Well, boys, we're gonna (unclear) you a little necktie party." They put the rope around the boys' neck and they threw it right over a limb that was hanging right over the Verde Road, and they hung the first one--they hung Stott first, Jim Stott. He was from Indiana, and he was there in the horse business and (unclear) father and mother came out and got the remains afterwards, a few months afterwards. They strung him up, and then they treated each one of 'em alike, put the rope on the boy's neck, threw the rope over the same limb, and hung all three of 'em to the same limb, and left 'em hanging right there. It was in hot weather in August. Old Man William Flake, who bought Jim Stinson out, he'd been out in the Salt River Valley looking for horses, stolen horses, and he passed there, and he saw these men hanging to the tree. They'd been hanging there probably about three days, they thought, or four, and their faces were badly swollen, beyond recognition. But still, he recognized Jim Stott. He was acquainted with Jim Stott quite well, and he said, "Stott is there." He went in and reported the matter to the sheriff, and the justice of the peace Frank (unclear) held a coroner's inquest in Holbrook. They went up there and cut the bodies down and took them and buried them about a half a mile from the rim on the north side of the rim. I've been to the place a good many times, and I'd like to tell what kind of gravestones they had. When Will C. Barnes and a group of us were trailing a herd of cattle through from the north to the south side of the rim, coming to [Camp Verde?] for pasture, we saw the newly made graves by the side of the road. We all went out and looked at them. On one side was the name Jim Stott, on the other side was "Arbuckle Coffee." And on one side of the next one was Jim Scott, the other side "Arbuckle Coffee." On each one, was all three of 'em in that way.

Babbitt: Old Arbuckle Coffee boxes were used for headstones?

Pearce: Yes. Arbuckle Brothers Coffee.

Babbitt: Yeah, that's a very famous old coffee.

Pearce: That was (unclear) with their headstones.

Babbitt: I'd like to get one of those Arbuckle Coffee boxes today. You can't find 'em for love or money. Well anyway, do you feel that there was justification for this hanging? Did they have any evidence on these poor guys that they hanged? (phone rings)

Niel: (unclear) contrary.

Babbitt: Pardon me just a second please. (recording turned off and on) Pardon the interruption again, Joe. We were talking about the culpability or the blame of these men that were hanged by that vigilante group in Holbrook. What do you think about it?

Pearce: Mr. George, I'm glad to answer that question. I was well acquainted with Jim Stott who owned the ranch, and I met his father and mother when they came back the next year after he was killed, to take the remains back to Indiana. I was asked that question many times, if Jim Stott could do anything out of the way, if I knew. He lived a near neighbor to us, very near neighbor. We lived on Pearce Wash, just a few miles west of Stott Ranch. That was about ten, twelve miles east of Heber. I told them no, never found anything against Jim Stott that was out of the way in the least. He fed a few of those parties and didn't know who they were as they went through the country. Then I was asked about these two boys, Bob Wilson. I knew Bob Wilson around Holbrook, and he was quite a well-known character there as a young man. He came in about the time the Hashknife outfit came in, and he was a very quiet, civil fellow. And Jim Scott was also hanged. There's nothing ever known against Jim Scott, he had no mark against his character a'tall. And I considered that one of the most foul deeds that's gone on in that part of Arizona, and the blood is on the state of Arizona.

Babbitt: Do you think it was personal antagonism on the part of some of the vigilantes that they did this?

Pearce: No sir, that was just done for an example, just (unclear) was found in bad company. (unclear) they claimed that these boys were just found there at this ranch, and it was right on the line where people went to and fro to Pleasant Valley and back, and they caught these visitors there. And they just wanted to make an example and do away with that part of a place where (unclear) hold up. They thought possibly cattle thieves or horse rustlers.

Babbitt: They didn't show very good judgement, though, hanging three men (unclear).

Pearce: (unclear) sure wrong in that case. And the people, these old settlers like my father, and the boys who grew up there, the Flake boys, we all knew that was a very uncalled for foul deed, a most fiendish, heinous crime.

?: (unclear)

Babbitt: The vigilantes were composed of men from Holbrook?

Pearce: Yes, two of 'em were out of Holbrook. I knew, them well -- two sheepmen.

Babbitt: And how many were there in the vigilante group?

Pearce: About five. And there was some man....

Babbitt: Pardon me just a minute. (recording turned off and on) Joe, you were going to say that some men were from some other part of the country?

Pearce: Yes, from under the Tonto Rim, (unclear) Tonto Rim (unclear).

Babbitt: From the Pleasant Valley area?

Pearce: Pleasant Valley, Tonto Basin (unclear). Three of 'em (unclear) up there, and two from Holbrook. I've been wantin' to do that, but for the sake of the boys that's livin', we won't mention any names. Their characters have been.... They'd been to my ranch just the day before.

Babbitt: Pardon?

Pearce: They had been to our ranch just the day before, this vigilance committee.

Babbitt: You know I'm recording this.

Pearce: That's okay.

Babbitt: We've pretty well covered the field of the Graham-Tewksbury Pleasant Valley War, unless you fellahs have some other thoughts on that situation.

Niel: I haven't.

Pearce: No, no more.

Babbitt: Joe, you don't either?

Pearce: No, not today.

Babbitt: Well, Joe, you know the Pearce name appears on maps in several parts of the state. I understand that's your dad, when your family came in. Will you give us a history of your dad, his activities, and of your family please?

Pearce: Yes, I'll be glad to, George. My father was born in Mississippi, and he migrated west, came up to Iowa. And my mother was born in the state of Iowa, and her people came west to Salt Lake City, and then came down south into Southern Utah, around St. George country. And about 1873, my father, James Pearce, and my grandfather, Harrison Pearce, built a road from St. George south to the Colorado River at the mouth of the Grand Canyon. They hauled lumber in there, and they built ferry boats.

Babbitt: Was that Lee's Ferry?

Pearce: Pearce Ferry. That was what is known as the Pearce Ferry. They spelled it N-P-I-R-C, the writing of it, but it should be P-E-A-R-C-E, Pearce. My grandfather operated the ferry 'til about 1882. Then he sold out. My father and grandfather hired Indian help, and they built a road, an outlet, for people who were coming in from Nevada and Utah, to come cross the river to go into California and to come into Arizona. They built the first road to what is now Kingman, and helped to build another road back towards Flagstaff. And they did this with Indian help to make it possible, an outlet for people crossing the ferry. My father and a man by the name of Roberts discovered a copper mine, a claim, near Kingman, and they sold it for $1,800. My father took the money and went to (unclear) Oregon, and he bought Cotswold sheep and brought the sheep, and ferried them across at Pearce Ferry, and brought them up and was in the sheep business with the Daggs brothers, up in Taylor, Arizona. My father owned cattle, owned about a hundred head of cattle. When the Hashknife came in there in 1885, it didn't take very long I was riding with the Hashknife wagon as a boy to take care of Father's cattle. And it only took the outfit about three or four years to clean us out of the cattle business. I guess I wasn't a very good cowman. I rode with the Hashknife boys, and I learned to speak the language of the cowboy, and the cattle rustler. That really equipped me in pretty good shape to enlist in the Arizona Rangers, 'cause I'd like to say just briefly I was one of the--in 1898, when President McKinley, through executive proclamation, set aside what was then known as the Black Mesa Forest Reserve--now the Sitgreaves and Apache National Forest. I was appointed chief ranger of that forest, and I had ten forest rangers under me. I had charge of that forest from 1898 to 1902. My office was at Nutrioso, Arizona, and Springerville, when they established a forest office afterwards. But I held the job down for about four years. During that time, through the help of Will C. Barnes, we formed allotments for sheep- and cattlemen on this forest. And we were created primarily at the time to fight forest fires. The local cattlemen and sheepmen fought fires to protect their own range, but up to this time the forest was unprotected.

Babbitt: Did you have trouble working out those allotments between the graze outfits, both cattle- and sheepmen?

Pearce: Well, at that time there was more sheep to handle on the forest than there were cattle, I believe. I guess it was probably about evenly divided. Flagstaff had a great number of sheepmen at the time. It was just about evenly divided between sheep and cattle. And I put in those four years' time, marking off and establishing allotments for the sheep and the cattle, to make it agreeable between them. Then when the Arizona Rangers came in force, I had a (unclear) chip on my shoulder. We'd been knocked out of our cattle and just swiped out of 'em. It didn't take very much encouragement for me to join the rangers to try to clean up this terrible mess in Arizona.

[END TAPE 57-lb, SIDE B; BEGIN TAPE 57-lc, SIDE A]

Babbitt: Rustlers had stolen most of your (unclear).

Pearce: Yes, they had been stolen. They'd gotten off with our cattle. And the rangers (unclear), and I wanted a little excitement, and I really got it.

Babbitt: Well, now, you're talking about cattle, what kind of cattle did your father run?

Pearce: He run a very good brand of cattle, and I'd like to say, I'm proud to say that Dr. Brannen, and Finley, his partner in Flagstaff, came over to our ranch at Taylor, and bought the first bunch of cattle to start Dr. Brannen in the cattle business. He told us, I remember as a boy--and Rube, here, I guess knew Dr. Brannen and Finley.

Babbitt: Those were the Herefords that we were talking about last night.

Pearce: Yeah. These were Durham and Hereford cattle at the time.

?: (inaudible)

Pearce: We were there, my father had Durham and Hereford cattle at the time.

Babbitt: Is that what the Hashknife ran too?

Pearce: No, the Hashknife ran just one cross between the Chihuahua cattle, Chihuahua, Mexico, and the Hereford cattle. They're very lithe cattle, they're longhorned, and they were quite light colored, but not many spotted. I remember that they were very light.

Babbitt: What do you mean, light red?

Pearce: Lightweight. The Hashknife cattle brought about eight dollars for yearling steers, and ten for two-year-olds, about twelve for three-year-old steers was a good price.

Babbitt: That was how much a pound?

Pearce: That would be about 3^-4C a pound.

Babbitt: (unclear)

Pearce: Three cents a pound.

?: They weren't sold by the pound.

Pearce: They all sold by the head then.

Babbitt: All two or three years, huh?

Pearce: Eight, ten, and twelve. I've seen many a thousand head of big steers sell for ten and twelve dollars a head, three-year-old steers.

Babbitt: How long would they keep their steers?

Pearce: Well, they kept 'em for about two and three years. They didn't sell many yearlings. No, they kept "em. It wasn't worth handling to sell those yearlings. They kept 'em.

Babbitt: When you say they were longhorned, they weren't anything like the Mexican (unclear).

Pearce: No long Chihuahua horns, but they were a cross (unclear). They were longhorned cows, quite longhorned, and the steers.

Babbitt: (unclear) horns, a foot-and-a-half, two-foot long?

?: (inaudible, too far from mic)

Babbitt: They came out in front of their head?

?: (inaudible, too far from mic)

Babbitt: (unclear)

?: (inaudible, too far from mic)

Babbitt: How far apart at the point, would you say?

?: Oh, I think probably twenty-four inches, somethin' like that.

Babbitt: How long would the horns be? (unclear)

?: Two foot, three, four inches.

Pearce: Two foot, three, four inches.

Babbitt: (unclear)

?: My understanding, those originated, they were the longhorns originally down in Mexico. (unclear) black and white (unclear).

Pearce: They were just one cross.

?: They were a pretty cattle.

?: That's the reason they brought all these purebred Hereford bulls in here and crossed 'em with the longhorns.

Babbitt: We got a little digression there, but I think that's very interesting. I guess they were fast cattle, too, weren't they? Hard to handle?

Pearce: They were just as hardy as goats. They'd live where a goat could live. They'd live and breed--good breeders.

Niel: Dan [Tade?] and I used to catch 'em for fun, saddle 'em and ride 'em. I've had 'em run (unclear) a good race horse for about a quarter of a mile (unclear).

Babbitt: Would you ride 'em bareback, Rube?

Niel: No, we'd saddle 'em. We got a little adventuresome one time and put the saddle on backwards and used the steer's tail for drivin'. (laughter) (unclear) before I could catch him. (unclear) a little slow.

Babbitt: He stayed with the steer, huh? Where was that, out in Lonesome Valley?

Niel: No, that was over in what we called Devil Canyon Park. Around (unclear) Lake, in that country.

Babbitt: I know what you mean. Well, listen, Joe, we've digressed here. You were talking about your family and the history of it.

Pearce: Yeah, we got off from it a little bit. I'd like to say while we're on the Hashknife, just briefly, I was very familiar with the number of cattle. According to the historians of the country, the Hashknife shipped in about 40,000 head of cattle when we came in with 'em in 1885. And the herd run up (unclear) to about 60,000 head of cattle on the range. That's generally conceded to by historians. I might say just a little, George, further about that.... (blank tape for a second or two) My father was a.... (blank tape for a second) ... was a member of the Utah Militia, and served in the Ute War against the Ute Indians. It was impossible to get soldiers into Utah. My Uncle John Pearce was a colonel in the Utah Militia in St. George, and my father was a lieutenant. My mother drew a pension for Father's services as a member of that militia. The government paid them a pension for those who served in that militia in the campaign against the Utes.

Babbitt: They earned it, too. When your father came out of the Pearce Ferry, up north of Kingman on the Colorado River, you said he used Indians. Weren't the Indians a little [broncos versus?] at that time, or were they (unclear) and easy to handle?

Pearce: Oh yes, the Indians were very (unclear) the Mojave Apaches. They were a branch of the Apaches, and they were very leery of them. They wouldn't employ but just a very few. They seemed to be very peaceful. They paid these Indians horses to make the road. Father had the horses, and my grandfather. And they paid them to build this road.

Babbitt: Weren't they a little dangerous, or a possibility for trouble?

Pearce: Yes, they were. The Mojave Apaches, if they had known that we were coming in to take their land, they'd have made a little trouble, I think, because really, they were pretty much pretty wild Indians. As I remember them, they wore G-strings and had no clothes on them. They just wore....

Babbitt: Did they use bow and arrows to hunt?

Pearce: Bows and arrows, yes. They all had bows and arrows, and they wore a G-string and no clothing.

Babbitt: Did they have tomahawks?

Pearce: No, no tommyhawks.

Babbitt: Didn't have any rifles either?

Pearce: No, no rifles.

Babbitt: And they were crazy to get horses, weren't they?

Pearce: They were crazy for horses, and they did a lot of work. They must have had ten or fifteen of those Indians working there for horses. Father had quite a bunch of horses he brought with him. They built that road.

Babbitt: How far south does that road go?

Pearce: It come up to what is now Kingman, built a road out that way. And (unclear) California. The other road was built up toward Hackberry and over to Flagstaff.

Babbitt: I've heard stories, some early-day cattleman there who used to put a little arsenic in the flour, and leave it around for the Indians to use. Did you ever hear that?

Pearce: No, I never did.

Babbitt: Well, it's a poison. And they were stealing cattle all the time, and he couldn't figure it out, so he must have gotten rid of some of them that way. Did you ever hear that story?

Niel: Oh yes.

Babbitt: Do you think there's something to it?

Niel: Unquestionably.

Babbitt: That happened in Kingman, and I also heard up near Little Colorado (unclear).

Niel: I was going to tell you on this tape, the Indians used to come into our camp after this happened, and it was hard, we couldn't feed 'em all, 'cause we just couldn't get the grub. But we'd go to the drugstore and we'd get a skull and crossbones and put it on a bottle, and get some salt and put it in the bottle. An Indian would come into camp, we'd shake hands with him, a Supai or Navajo....

Babbitt: Where was this camp? Where were your range and cattle?

Niel: Back around Canyon Diablo, and in close (unclear) San Francisco Wash. So we'd say, "You're my friend, you stay and eat dinner with me." And we'd say, "Now, you see this flour here? (unclear) don't bother that flour, because there's a man out here, he's not even a man, he's a chinde, and he's the devil and (unclear)."

Babbitt: That's the Navajo?

Niel: Yes. "He poisoned that flour (unclear). Here's some good flour here." And take 'em out and show 'em that bottle, you know. If you fool with the bottle," then show him that poison, and accidentally drop a little of that salt in the bread you was mixin' up or something, and go on about your work and there wouldn't be an Indian within a mile of that camp. That's [why you used to stay drunk?]. (laughter) All kinds of tricks them days to keep the friendship of the Indians, and still save our food, because it's hard to get.

Babbitt: What kind of grub would you eat?

Niel: Well, we had beef and beans and baking powder bread, and black strap molasses. That's about all.

Babbitt: Didn't have canned goods in those days.

Niel: Oh, no, we didn't have the luxury. We couldn't keep canned goods, just beef.

Babbitt: What kind of beans did you have? (unclear)

Niel: Red (unclear) beans.

Babbitt: You didn't make sourdough bread?

Niel: Yes, quite often, when we'd stay in camp long enough, have an established camp. We had a little wooden keg (unclear) on that, and cover it up (unclear) and some of those fellahs were experts at sourdough bread.

Babbitt: Well, that black strap molasses, that was dessert, wasn't it?

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: Pretty fine stuff.

Niel: Ernie Styles was eatin' dinner at Rose's camp one time. (unclear) had kind of a (unclear) and he picked up a can of this black strap, he's a-lookin' at it, and (unclear) said, "What are you lookin' at?" "I'm just tryin' to see whose cornfield this syrup grew in." (laughter)

Babbitt: Well, you fellahs didn't have any forty-hour week either, did you?

Niel: No, we didn't.

Babbitt: What time of the morning did you go to work? Daylight, wasn't it?

Niel: If we was workin' for a company, we worked sixteen hours and throw in two hours night guard. That was true just about a regular day's work.

Babbitt: That was roundup time?

Niel: Yes. (unclear) wranglin' horses. We had a string herd, why, we got chunks somewhere out of the night of about an hour-and-a-half to an hour and twenty minutes, dependin' on the number of the crew. Two men to hold the herd of cattle out of the night. And two day herders in the daytime.

Babbitt: Well, you start out on some of those roundups, you wouldn't come in for lunch, either, would you?

Niel: Oh, no, we'd never come in 'til we got the herd worked.

Babbitt: (unclear) a lot of times, wouldn't it?

Niel: Yes, we'd crawl out sometimes at daybreak. Sometimes it'd be night (unclear).

Babbitt: How much did you get paid for eighteen hours a day?

Niel: Thirty-five dollars a month--thirty and thirty-five dollars.

Babbitt: Thirty-five (unclear). But you had to furnish your own saddle, too, didn't you?

Niel: Oh yes, you travelled with your rope and everything.

Babbitt: And bedroll.

Niel: Bedroll.

Babbitt: What did bronco busters get? Did they get a little more?

Niel: I don't know, a man rode a rough string, he'd probably get thirty-five dollars.

Babbitt: You'd have to break several horses (unclear).

Niel: He'd earn his money. He'd earn that extra five dollars.

Jack: You'd generally have a bad one or two in your string, horses (unclear). You'd do your own breakin'.

Babbitt: Jack, by golly, we haven't had a chance to talk to you here much. We've been concentrating on Northern Arizona, but we're going to get over to you.

Jack: It's been interesting. I've enjoyed that (unclear).

Babbitt: We want to get over to you, too. Joe, to get back to your family, your dad had built this road across Pearce Ferry and down into Kingman, and then east to Hackberry and west toward Needles. When did he migrate on into what's called Mormon country up in the direction of St. Johns?

Pearce: Yes, he built under the Lot Smith company, and he stayed there a little while. He wasn't satisfied with the Little Colorado River, and moved on up to Taylor, and he was the first settler that settled in Taylor (unclear). And there was only one man, Jim Stinson, at Snowflake, when Father went in there. And that's where I met Jim Stinson (unclear) Pleasant Valley, and the Pleasant Valley War was started over Jim Stinson's cattle. And Father took up in the town there, and took up land at Taylor, and I was raised in Taylor, north of town, probably 800 population.

Babbitt: Out near Springerville, right?

Pearce: Yes.

Babbitt: Your father stayed there, and your mother (unclear)?

Pearce: Mother stayed there (unclear). Mother died there at the age of eighty-three, and Father at ninety-three .

Babbitt: How old are you now, Joe, if you don't mind telling?

Pearce: I'm soon to be eighty-four.

Babbitt: Well, you look healthy, by golly. Do you have any brothers and sisters?

Pearce: I have four brothers and one sister left. We had five brothers and four sisters. But at the present time I have three brothers living, and one sister.

Babbitt: Was your father a member of the Mormon Church when he came west, or did he join them afterwards?

Pearce: He was a member of the Mormons, my grandfather was, (unclear).

Babbitt: Well, he's left a lot of history across the state, I know. I heard somebody talking about the possibility of a monument to the memory of your dad at Pearce's Ferry, along the highway there, leading to it. That should be done. Maybe we can get together and have something worked out on that a little later.

Pearce: (unclear) just a few days ago, about ten days ago, and talked with Senator (unclear) and he's on the committee in the state to recommend the building of markers and highways, and he assured me that there'd be a marker placed in honor of Father and (unclear) Pearce establishing the Pearce Ferry and building the first road into what is now Kingman.

Babbitt: Well, he certainly should be recognized and honored, and it'd be a tribute to you too, because you also probably did a lot toward the development of the state. I guess that covers the Pearce family, Joe, and I thank you an awful lot for your time and your kindness and your help. It's going to be perpetuated, this record we've taken this morning, and you've contributed a great deal.

Pearce: Thank you.

Babbitt: Thank you, Joe. Rube, would you like to tell a little about your family? I know you (unclear) Drums, is it, and (unclear).

Niel: My father's name was Lee Niel. He was born just a few miles from Nashville, Tennessee. He was educated at St. Mary's College in Kansas, and at Joe Coffey School in Missouri. He was a lawyer by profession, and he was admitted to practice law in Kansas, also in the state of Texas. Mary, my mother, was born in Iowa, and married in Coffeyville, Kansas. And they came from Coffeyville, Kansas, to Stoneman [phonetic] Lake, and they settled on Stoneman Lake on the ninth day of August, 1876. They had a covered wagon, and a yoke of oxen. They came from Coffeyville, Kansas, to Stoneman Lake with the oxen and the covered wagon. My sister was about a year-and-a-half old at that time.

Babbitt: Where were you, Rube?

Niel: I was born later, 1878, at Camp Verde, Arizona. We resided at Stoneman Lake. My father became ill, and we had to take him to Prescott. He was in Prescott for some length of time, and then came back and died at Beaver Creek in '84 [i.e., 1884]. He's buried at Central Verde. My mother later, when I was about nine years old, married a man by the name of Lyman S. Drum. He was a man that was born in Pennsylvania, and went to California in an early day, and then made his way back into Arizona. My sister later married a man that came in here with the Hashknife Cattle Company, Walter Durham, W. W. Durham.

Babbitt: He was one of the original Hashknife cowboys, wasn't he?

Niel: Yes, he was.

Babbitt: Your sister married Durham. (unclear) That's a beautiful spot up there.

Niel: My mother--there' s a man by the name of Biffer, Frank Biffer [phonetic], he was a mining man, and he had what they called a quit claim deed or right on that land. Well, my mother came there and he told her--she liked the place and everything--and he told her, "I'm moving out, you take over." That was twelve years before the survey. The survey was in 1886, and when the survey was made, Section 16, Town 16 north, Range 8 East, a portion of the Stoneman Lake Ranch fell on that. Well, that was school land. Well, there we were on the school land, but we stayed there. Well, when the Forest Service took over, they come along and told us to move. We told 'em no, we'd been there so long it seemed like home. (unclear) was in charge. Well, they kept botherin' us and let's see, what's his name? I keep forgettin'. He's an insurance man, and he's married into your family.

Babbitt: Tom McCullough? [phonetic]

Niel: Tom McCullough! Tom McCullough and my mother were quite friendly, knew each other. Tom used to go out there occasionally. He (unclear), "Mrs. Drum, don't be in any hurry to move. Don't get in any dispute with anybody, but [don't] let 'em move ya'. Stay there. Seems to me like you ought to have a right." The length of time we'd been there, sixteen years before the survey, and he said, "The map, the original survey, shows your cabin, Niel's cabin. You've got ample proof, and you've undoubtedly manifested good intentions, so I wouldn't hurry away." That was Willard M. Drake--finally become supervisor, and of course he was only doin' what he was told to do. He came out, told us to leave, and we didn't go. Well, I went to town and I wired Henry F. Ashurst. Ralph Cameron, in the meantime, was the representative. Ralph, I talked with him a while, and he got Ballenger, and they kind of called a halt on the situation. When I went to town, I wired Ashurst, see if he could do something about stopping the move. They came out and told us they'd have to move us. I've got the copy of the telegram that Henry sent Drake. He says, "Leave those old people at Stoneman Lake alone, or I'll move you." (laughter) So Henry F. Ashurst, Senator. Old Man Clark, right north of Flagstaff there, you know, he was on [Section] 16, and in a similar position that we were, and John Loy [phonetic] at Munds Park was on Section 16, and exactly, his case paralleled ours. There were three of us on school land, and we couldn't gain any title or any right. Well, Ashurst went down and was gonna introduce a relief bill for all three of us. And Ballenger told us he wouldn't do it. He thought we could settle it some other way. So Henry asked him what his proposition was. "Well," he said, "(unclear)." He said, "Just grant those people the right to file, make a final proof at the same time, and get the title to that land." Well, that was just how easy it was, we got a little help. So we got Stoneman Lake Ranch.

Babbitt: What'd you do, run cattle there?

Niel: Yes, we had cattle there. That was on the old Starland Route, and they came from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Prescott, with ox teams. And we'd buy those cows that get sore-footed and couldn't travel. They'd bring 'em up and put 'em in that soft dirt down in the lake, and there was lots of grass and feed, you know, and their feet would grow out. And they were all colors. We called 'em hand-painted. They was every color that you can imagine, all colors of the rainbow-blue and red and all other.

Babbitt: These were oxen mostly, or cattle?

Niel: Mostly cows that they were driving, Mexican cattle. Well, we raised quite a herd of those Mexican cattle. And they got out and they were just like hornets. They'd fight at the drop of a hat. They'd just chase you, and those that'd been worked, they got mean after they run wild a little while. We finally sold those, or traded 'em to J. F. Daggs for some buildings: a home and a couple of buildings. Where the Commercial Hotel stands now, we owned that lot, and one adjacent to it there. And there come a fire, if you remember, along about that time, and it took those buildings away. Well, we mortgaged the lots, put up for another building, and rented it, and it burned down. That took the family fortune, we didn't have anything left.

Babbitt: That was too bad. The family did wind up (unclear) Stoneman Lake?

Niel: Oh, yes, we held Stoneman Lake, we got a title to it. And after years, when my father, he homesteaded the place on Section 9. That was one of these (unclear) sections, just inside the forty-mile limit. That was Section 9, and the water there was Railroad Springs.

Babbitt: You mean forty-mile limit was Railroad Springs?

Niel: Yes. And it was reconveyed to the United States, and we had (unclear) and my stepfather homesteaded about sixty acres there at the spring. Well, the original homestead was 160 acres. One was on Section 9, and the other was on 16, so it gave us control of all that east side of the lake, and the northeast side.

Babbitt: Pretty valuable.

Niel: Yes, it was.

Babbitt: (unclear) with the Indians?

Niel: Well, they used to come there. They had a [fight?] six miles of us once, and then four miles another time.

Babbitt: Any Indians killed, or white men?

Niel: Oh yes, there were soldiers and Indians killed. And that calls to mind the fight between the White Horse Cavalry and the Apache Indians, which occurred on what is known as Battle Creek Ridge, over near East Clear Creek. The soldiers captured some of those Indians, and on the way back to Fort Verde, they stopped at Stoneman Lake. We had a cellar there that we used to keep potatoes and stuff in, and a dirt roof, (unclear) built out of the ground and rocks and logs. And it started to rain, and we let the guards put about six Apache warriors in this cellar. Well, they just throwed 'em in there, you know, and they couldn't (unclear) themselves. Mother was always kind of sympathetic. She went and got some dried meat and she made 'em a big pot of coffee, and they took some bread and took it out there to the guards, and they had a lantern, and they took it in the cellar and she gave it to these Indians. There was a young Indian settin' there, he got up, and he took a string of beads off of his neck and he put 'em, just dropped 'em over Mother's head, and turned to the interpreter that was there, one of the scouts, and told him to tell Mother to keep those beads and to wear 'em whenever there was Apache Indians around, to wear those beads--particularly if they acted warlike or anything, to put 'em on--and they wouldn't harm her. You know, we think to this day that it probably saved my mother and sister and I, probably saved our lives, 'cause those Indians several times come and looked in that ranch, but they didn't come down, they went on.

[END TAPE 57-lc, SIDE A; BEGIN SIDE B]

Babbitt: What kind of beads were they, Rube?

Niel: I haven't got part of 'em--somebody stole a portion of 'em--but they were made out of roots and painted with some kind of an Indian paint. I have a string of 'em. I'm going to give 'em to some institute later on. They mean a good deal to me now, but I'm the only one in the family left.

Babbitt: We're building a museum up in Flagstaff, a Pioneer Historical Museum.

Niel: Well, you know, I might give it to Flagstaff.

Babbitt: And I'll have the story with it too.

Niel: And (unclear) little story it was, but we feel certain that that one act saved our lives. Now, we believe that Indian was educated. We believe that there were several of 'em sent to Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and came back well educated, spoke excellent English. Mother always said that she thought that Indian understood every word she said. Too polite and everything to have been an uneducated Indian.

Babbitt: Rube, now how did you happen to get into the rangers and get that badge number 20 I saw you wearing last night?

Niel: Well, I'll tell you. They were stealing cattle in Coconino County, Yavapai County. They were stealing all our own in Flagstaff, and I was working for Jim Johnson for sheriff. He was sheriff, and I was working for him as a deputy. He wanted me to spend more time fightin' stock rustlers. Well, I told him, "I can't do it on the wages you pay." Seventy-five dollars a month then was a deputy sheriff's wages. And we talked around, and finally Jim says, "Well, why not join the rangers? They'll give you a little more, and you can come here, and I'll help you out a little bit, and we can go ahead."

Babbitt: How much was it the rangers paid you?

Niel: Paid a hundred dollars.

Babbitt: Oh, boy!

Niel: Charlie Babbitt and Tom Pollock [phonetic], and Martin Doglin [phonetic], they came to me and said, "Now you take the job, and we'll help you a little bit." I said, "All right." Well, T. C. [Fire and Rowden?] come in then and said they'd help a little. I said, "How about maybe I can't get the job?" Well, they'd look after that part of it too. So I got a telegram in a few days from Tom Rining [phonetic] to meet him in Phoenix, and I came down here and he swore me in, and I was a ranger.

Babbitt: Did you have a special oath?

Niel: No, it was used for "defend all the laws of the United States and the constitution and all the laws of the state of Arizona." That was about the only oath they had.

Pearce: (unclear) a soldier (unclear).

Niel: About the only instructions I got, there was a lieutenant by the name of Dave Allison. He was an old Texas Ranger, and by the way, he was a good officer too. There was no foolishness about him, or no show or anything. He was just a natural officer. And he said, "Niel, I never burden a man with instructions. I won't enlist a man unless I think he's got sense enough to hold the job. When I'm gone, you can't use my head, so you'll have to use yours. But there's one thing I want to tell you, if you go out here and pick up a rabbit and hold it in your arms, watch it. It might turn to a wildcat. If it does, it'll scratch you all to pieces." And that advice saved my life two or three times. He meant by that, if you ever arrest a man, no matter who he is, watch him. Don't go to sleep on the job. And I think that was the best advice I ever got from an officer, the best instructions was those few words.

Babbitt: Did you enlist with a term of years?

Niel: One year each time.

Babbitt: What do you think was the most exciting experience you had, Rube?

Niel: Well, I'll tell you, if you want to know the time of worst fightin'. It was a very simple thing, but I'm gonna tell you that I was really scared. There was J. D. Bailey and J. L. Dougherty. You knew Dougherty, didn't you?

Babbitt: The one the [C.O.?] wanted. Yeah, Lew Dougherty.

Niel: Well, he and [Ian?] Bailey started to go up around Monticello and Moab, and (unclear) look for some stolen horses. And we were crossin' the reservation, and a couple little Indians rode up to us, ridin' double on a horse. And Bailey was always chewin' tobacco. So he took a big bite off of a plug of Climax tobacco, you know, and started to put it back, and the Indian thought it was somethin' to eat, of course. So he motioned to Bailey, and Bailey cut him off a chew and he cut that little Indian boy a chew of that Climax tobacco, you know, and it was enough to kill a man. It would have made good sheep dip. That little fellah, he swallowed his. And in about fifteen minutes, I believe that was the sickest person I ever saw in my life. He was about the color of one of those pillows there. Dougherty was cool, a very collected fellah, you know, but I could see that he was uneasy. I said to Dougherty, we'd better stop and see if we can do something for that child, because I believe he's gonna die. So we pitched a camp right close to this Navajo house. Well, they come out there, and here this little fellah, they had him layin' in the shade of a boulder on some blankets that were spread out there. I was gettin' a can of condensed milk out of the pack while Dougherty warmed some water. I put this napkin there, and put a little salt in and got the boy to drink it. It wasn't long 'til he disgorged that (unclear). We done that about three times, and he begin to look better. But in the meantime, the Navajos were shushin' around there (laughter) talkin1 about Coyote's friends, everybody else, and about killin' the white men.

Babbitt: Coyote's friends? What'd they mean by that?

Niel: Well, they hate a coyote, and if they don't like a coyote, why, he's a friend to a coyote. So they were talkin' there, and my hair, I could just feel it goin' straight up, because I knew if they (unclear) a sheep would have just as much chance of killin' the butcher as we had of gettin' away from those Indians, (unclear) about fifteen around in this settlement, and they could've sent up a smoke signal, and there'd have been 300 after us in an hour.

Babbitt: Where were you, way out in the wilderness?

Niel: Way out on the edge of Monument Valley. There we were, and really, we had time to think while all this was goin' on. (unclear) but I was frightened, and decidedly scared.

Babbitt: I don't blame you, you get a bunch of these Navajos millin' around. About what year was that?

Niel: That was in 1903.

Babbitt: They were still pretty primitive up there?

Niel: Yes, they were. Bailey, after we seen that the little child was gonna live, Bailey took a long breath, and he said, "You know, I've given away my last chew of tobacco. I wouldn't give my grandma a chew of tobacco from now on." (laughter obscures comment)

Babbitt: You fellahs (unclear) if that kid had died.

Niel: Yes. Oh, they'd have got us, sure. And that was, and is, I believe, (unclear) frightened several times.

Babbitt: (unclear), Rube? (blank tape for half a minute) Rube, we were talking about your history as a ranger, and I asked you if you'd been shot at. We had to change the spool there, we just ran out of that one spool. You said you had. Would you mind telling us about those?

Niel: You see this scar?

Babbitt: By your nose there, right under your eye?

Niel: Yes.

Babbitt: That really (unclear).

Niel: That was a .38 bullet.

Babbitt: Right through your nose?

Niel: No, it grazed it. (unclear) something, ricochetted (unclear) fender on a car (unclear). And there's that little white spot up there.

Babbitt: On top of your head.

Niel: That just took a lock of my hair for a keepsake. That was a .38 bullet out of the same gun.

Babbitt: He must have had his hand on your shoulder. What was the occasion, Rube?

Niel: Well, I was just goin' to jail in Winslow. I was goin' to the jail with a Mexican, and he was a kind of a choice character, always into trouble, you know-just petty trouble. And I was takin' him along, not payin' much attention to him, because it was a habit of his, gettin' in jail and gettin' sobered up. So goin' along, and everything was goin' nice and friendly, and all at once somebody said, "Let him loose!" And I looked up, and this fellah levelled a gun, and I went to the ground. That's when I got both of these. And I wasn't trying to pull any Lone Ranger stunt or anything. I just come out with a gun and shot where I thought he ought to be. He must have had that gun in front of him, because it cut his thumb off, and this joint of his finger. Cut three joints off the finger of his right hand. And that saved my life, he dropped the gun. But he had another amigo somewhere, and he hit me with somethin', but he was the boy that won the battle. What he hit me with, I went down and out. There was a doctor livin' in the hotel there, in the Chief Hotel, belonged to the Gerozzi [phonetic] brothers. Well, he stuck a gun out the window and hollered at this fellah, and they both run. And he come down and helped me. I'd got on my feet by that time, you know. But this place was a-bleedin', and my head was a-stingin' there a little bit. He patched me up. I went home and waited for daylight. I went on and proceeded to....

Babbitt: A little thing like a couple of .38 bullets wouldn't stop you, huh?

Niel: No.

Babbitt: Did you ever have to kill anybody in the line of duty?

Niel: No. I found the poor fellah, he was shootin' at me. Charlie Adams was a constable, and we went to arrest a man, and he shot one of these .32 on a .45 frame--one of those frontier models. It put powder in my eye. He shot right between my and Charlie's head, come nearer to me, I guess, than he did Charlie, because I had a little powder taken out of this eye. I shot just a little after he did. I hit him, and fortunate it didn't kill him. I hit him in the leg. Charlie went to start and there was a bitch dog there that'd been there a short time, and he went to stop and fell into that, and groaned, and I thought Charlie was killed. Well, this fellah wasn't any use to shoot him again, because the gun was on the ground, and he was hurt. So I just waited there, and Jim Kennedy, he was the constable, and he run out there and he found this fellah. His name was Knute Udell [phonetic]. And he said to this Udell, "Well, you finally got into it, didn't you?" And I said, "You know this fellah?" He said, "He's in trouble all the time." That was (unclear) about ten days, and I was truly glad of it. I wouldn't even sign a complaint agin' him. Just let him go on. He was over here (unclear) comin1 down the old Black Canyon Road. He had him a little light wagon and couple of old Indians that he drove around. He'd lean back over this seat--he carried a gun in a shoulder holster--and he leaned back to pick up something, and this gun dropped out of that shoulder holster and struck the hammer on a lump of salt and shot him right in the head and killed him. He carried six shells in that gun, and that's a very dangerous thing to do with a frontier gun. That's what become of him.

Babbitt: They get careless.

Niel: Uh-huh. But that's the only mix-ups that I got into. (unclear) One of 'em went to Gallup and was killed, one of the fellahs that I had trouble with went there and Dee Roberts killed him, the sheriff there. I told him when he left, "If you leave here and go to Gallup"--he told me he was goin' to Gallup--"you go to Gallup, and Dee won't look for any soft spots (unclear), kill you the first move you make, because your reputation (unclear). Those boys play for keeps." Well, he went down there, and he got drunk and Bob wasn't feelin' very good. (unclear) aggravated him or something, and he just put him out of his misery. I didn't like that idea myself. I feel, George, that if I take a poor fellah's life, I wanted to feel that he made me do it.

Babbitt: I think that was probably the idea and philosophy of most all the rangers, wasn't it?

Niel: I think so. We had one or two that I was a little afraid was a little trigger happy. (unclear) that went in there, like Jack and Joe and myself, about half the time they had to do it.

Babbitt: That's probably one reason you're alive today, too. Jack, why don't you sit over here, please? Jack, we've been taping these guys from the northern end of the state, but we haven't had a chance to get around to you.

Jack: (unclear) Yeah, but I'm a poor storyteller, especially about myself.

Babbitt: You told us some very interesting stories last night, but we won't (unclear) very long. I'd like to get your background of your running into the rangers, your reasons for doing so.

Jack: Well, I first came to Willcox in '89 [i.e., 1889], to my uncle's ranch, Captain W. H. McKitrick [phonetic], or J. H.

Babbitt: I've heard the name.

Jack: He was a son-in-law of General Shachter [phonetic]. Shachter was stationed at Fort Grant. And the whole ranch of McKitrick was only twelve miles from Fort Grant. And he married General Shachter's daughter. Well, I was raised on the ranch there, and I first got to know Harry Wheeler, as I told you last night. You still have got that?

Babbitt: Yes, I've got that, yeah. [Tr.'s note: not amongst material I've transcribed.]

Jack: Through playing baseball against the soldiers at Fort Grant....

Babbitt: Yeah, I remember that.

Babbitt: We became good friends. And when he enlisted in the army, the first place he came was down to the ranch, 'cause he knew that I'd fix him up with a darned good pack horse--he wanted a pack horse--which I did, I had a dandy. And Harry Wheeler, Captain Wheeler, didn't have a lot of experience. I showed him how to tie his bed on with the squaw hitch, and a diamond hitch on his pack animal. We became friendly, and I used to see a lot of Harry. I did some confidential work, which was strictly confidential work. He offered me a job as a ranger. I served two enlistments. I served up until the time that the rangers were disbanded. Most of my work was done around Macko [phonetic] and Willcox, in the southern part of the state.

Babbitt: What do you think was the most exciting or interesting moment that you had in your career?

Jack: Well, I don't know, there's two or three. One was when Captain Wheeler sent me, and detailed two men with me, to go to Willcox and straighten out this train robber, Downing.

Babbitt: I've heard of him, yes.

Jack: Well, he was on the warpath up there, and Judge Page was a justice of the peace. They could get nobody to swear to a complaint. The local constable was up in Aravaipa Canyon, up above Hooker Ranch, so Judge Page wired to Wheeler to send some of the rangers up there. Wheeler detailed me to go up there and take two men with me, to straighten Downing out. And I think that was a tough man I was goin1 against. If I'd known now what I'd known then.... He had another name. He was a bad one from Texas. I don't know, it might have been different. But anyway, he was sober when we got there, and nothing developed out of it. Judge Page wanted me to swear to a complaint, and I refused to do it, because he had not committed any crime that I knew of. I couldn't arrest him, I didn't have anything on him. So we got out of that pretty good, but it was a good tense moment there. And Wheeler backed me up in what I did, after I returned to the headquarters at Macko. He said I was right, I had no right a'tall to take any action. In other words, the justice of the peace had a chill in him, he was afraid. A short time afterwards, Billy Speed, who was a ranger, shot and killed Downing, in self-protection. So Downing, when he was buried, they just got an old packing box, put him in the packing box and took him out somewhere, dug a hole, and put him in it.

Babbitt: He was a bad (unclear).

Jack: Oh, he was a bad one! You knew of Downing, Child's partner, and Alvoy's [phonetic] partner. And you also knew of Downing. He was one of the worst down there.

Babbitt: Well, Childs and Alvoy, those were the old boys over in Tucson, weren't they?

Jack: Well, this was his partner. Downing was one of the gang. See, there was that gang of three that used to run together.

Babbitt: (unclear)

Jack: Oh, he was a bad one. And the other one was the one I told you last night about the killing of Arnette [phonetic] in the canyon there. We knew that he was going down one of these two canyons--Wheeler and I knew that he was comin' down. Wheeler went to one canyon where he was supposed to come, with Hum [phonetic] the constable from Lowell; and I took the other canyon. Well, the time we waited for the sound of the horse comin' was a pretty tense moment, I can tell you that. There's nothin' to it. It was darker than a cat.

Babbitt: Were you fellahs the ones that Governor Hunt called out to (unclear) these so-called Wobblies and the train getting out of the station....

Jack: No, that occurred in 1917, I think it was, which was a long time after. I'm familiar with that, because I was in Lowell, working for the Calumet and Arizona mining company, in charge of the warehouse down there, in the supply department, during that time. But as luck would have it, I was offered a job as secretary of the state prison at that time, and I was not present in Lowell at the time that this deportation took place. I knew it was comin' up.

Niel: Well, George, pardon me. Was that Governor Hunt or Governor Campbell?

Jack: Governor Tom Campbell. Tom Campbell was the governor, and Harry Wheeler....

Pearce: George Yates kinda turned over in his grave.

Niel: (unclear) Wobblies.

Jack: Well, they were. They were the old IWW gang. But they got a whole lot of honest-to-goodness, clean, straight citizens in that deportation.

Niel: Poor Tom Poster [phonetic] for instance. He walked out of there afoot.

Jack: Oh, yeah.

Niel: (unclear) for twenty years.

Jack: Yeah, there was an awful bunch of people in there.

Niel: (unclear) but it was Tom Campbell (unclear). Poor old Governor Hunt, they accused him of (unclear).

Babbitt: He was a great friend of my dad. (unclear)

Niel: He was a great friend of everybody. That's what kept him in office. (laughs)

Jack: After the War of 1917 started, I resigned the secretaryship at the prison and enlisted in the army, in the regular army, down at Douglas.

Babbitt: Now you fellahs, you and Rube, are sittin' down here in the Valley of the Sun, enjoyin' life like a bunch of millionaires. That's wonderful, by golly, (laughs) We're sure happy for you.

Jack: Well, we've had a pretty rough time of it all the way through. Not a rough time, it was a good time. You don't think of the old rough times now, you just think of the good times you had.

Babbitt: What were the duties that you had, Jack, besides watching cattle rustlers and evil-doers? Were there any other specific jobs that you would be assigned to do?

Jack: We had general police duty. For instance, one time I was comin' down from Willcox, going to Macko, and I came into Pearce, and from Pearce down to Gleeson. When I got to Gleeson, the constable there, John Bright, told me, "I wish you'd stay over tonight. We're gonna have a dance here, and I think I got a little bit more than I can handle. There's a man and a woman livin' together back here in the hills that come in to these dances, and he gets on the dance floor with a gun on. And I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take that gun away from him." I said, "You're the constable here." He said, "You're a territorial ranger." Now, I just cite that as an incident. Well, we took the gun away from him all right. The man and his partner left the hall. It was generally anything you'd run onto.

Now, for instance, Billy Speed [phonetic] and I, when we were goin' up to Cave Creek, to do police duty up at Cave Creek, we camped one night at Hooker's Hot Springs, which is over in the Galora [phonetic] Mountains, at the north end of Happy Valley in there. And we camped there, and lo an behold, after we got ready to go out and pack out and go over the mountain, we met a boy, a young fellah--maybe he was nine or ten years old, just cryin1 his heart out. He took us over to an old shack that was there, and his father had died the night before with tuberculosis.

Babbitt: The kid was all by himself?

Jack: All by himself. Billy Speed and I made a box for him, and buried the old man right in there. Now, that's just what--we'd take it as it came.

Babbitt: You never knew what you were liable to run into.

Jack: No.

Babbitt: Did they give you fellahs any consideration, did you get a pension or anything, for having been with the rangers?

Jack: Yes, we're on a pension now. The legislature, we've only had it for two years.

Niel: You see, we had certain rights (unclear) we never knew there was (unclear) a thing done to protect our rights. Anyway, we rightfully had claim agin' the state of Arizona, the same as if a man was paid now Social Security. He pays in on a Social Security, you see. We worked under a working contract, we were really entitled to some care and consideration, because we arrested men. We brought (unclear).

Jack: Because we were a territory, and it was federal funded. (unclear) territory.

Niel: (unclear) we had around $25,000 of indebtedness given the state. We figured 91 men served. We figured up the length of time they served and everything, and the state hadn't been out $500 altogether on the obligation they owed us. They had our money. And we didn't know how--we don't know to this day what become of it, or what disposition was made, or anything. They just mustered us out, and that was all that was said. When we got back and proved to the satisfaction of the legislature that we had a complaint, the senate voted unanimous, the house missed a vote from a fellah (unclear) died the day before it come to a vote. So it was a unanimous situation.

[END TAPE 57-lc, SIDE B; BEGIN TAPE 57-ld, SIDE A]

Babbitt: Just two years ago?

Niel: Two years ago.

Niel: And we got [out?]. Now, we feel this way, that we were in the United States' service, enlisted men, our government was practically--the United States government--the governor was appointed by the president, all our representatives were elected, that all our government, our judges and everything, was federally appointed, and we were directly subservient to their orders, and we still feel that we've got the same rights as a soldier, subject to recall. We protected the government on the international line. A good portion of Jack's duties, a good portion of mine, and a portion of Joe's, international line. And how, in a way, the government could escape the responsibility, I don't know.

Babbitt: They have recognized your claim?

Niel: We've never made a claim. It would have to be adjudicated by the comptroller in Washington. And I think we've got a legitimate claim if we....

Babbitt: Why don't you take it up with Hayden, while he's still in there?

Niel: Hayden's the man all right.

Babbitt: Appropriations Committee. You'll never get a better (unclear) than Hayden (unclear).

Niel: Carl (unclear) chance, he'd to it.

Babbitt: Yeah, I'm sure he would.

Niel: There's another thing about just briefly now, (unclear) position an officer (unclear). I'm turned loose to protect the general public. That's the primary purpose of a police officer. All right, I go out and I get too tolerant. I allow a man to do things he shouldn't. Now, this Mexican is shootin' at me. If I hadn't of fought back and let him know, he mighta killed you the next year, or accidentally killed somebody else, you know. I'm responsible, you're dead, 'cause if I'd have done my duty, and the one I was paid for, fulfilled my oath, you'd have been alive today (unclear) shot. Now, that's a (unclear). You don't want an officer to get trigger happy. But when a man--I feel this way--when a man hasn't got intestinal fortitude enough to enforce the law, (unclear) pin a badge on him.

Babbitt: Well, that's a pretty high view to take, but that's true.

Niel: It's true, because if I neglect my duty, there's some good man gonna get killed in a holdup or somethin'. If I tell a man here--I don't want to be presumptuous or anything--but I'm responsible for the man around the corner in the grocery store, if I catch you holdin' him up, I'm gonna put you in jail, or I'm gonna dispose of you in some manner so you won't do it anymore, because you might kill a man. That's logic.

Jack: The public looked forward to the fact, because you were a peace officer, for that protection, too.

Niel: But the average public don't look at it like you. The average public looks at the (unclear). They want him to wait 'til he's shot all to pieces before he does anything. And if he does anything, (unclear) this way, they're too sympathetic to the (unclear) too sympathetic. They say, "Well, now, what (unclear). He broke in (unclear). He only stole a suit of clothes." Well, I guess if there'd been a $10,000 diamond or somethin' layin' on the dresser, he wouldn't have taken that.

Babbitt: If he'd steal clothes, he'd steal anything, wouldn't he?

Niel: They still give you sympathy, you know. Those things, therefore the public falls down (unclear). Now, there's another thing that's not so much a crime you apprehend, but the amount of danger and stuff that you prevent. An officer might have to arrest a lot of people. He might have a lot of trouble, like I did in Flagstaff. I had an awful crime there, because there was a bunch of people was bootleggin'. And it wasn't the liquor. I wasn't opposed to liquor, George, or anything, but you take a good bootleggin' joint, it's just like a cesspool, it breeds disease and crime, just on the same manner. You take and let a vice be happenin', a bootleg, and let it go, the class that's gonna congregate around it is the troublemakers of your community. And the next thing you know, somebody's killed, then you go down in your pocket and pull out money to help prosecute 'em. It takes $5,000 to prosecute (unclear).

Babbitt: Is that right? I didn't know that.

Niel: Yes. Well, you know I was in Flagstaff quite a number of years. They never tried a man for murder in the time that I was an officer. (unclear) anybody killed.

Babbitt: (unclear)

Niel: We did. There was two murders inside of thirty days.

Babbitt: I know they respect you, Rube, I know that.

Niel: It cost the Coconino County at least $10,000 to catch and prosecute those two murders. And now it's not criticizin' anybody, but it wasn't so much what I done, but what I prevented, I kept other people from.

Jack: I got the same thing when Steve and I were up at Cave Creek as rangers. There wasn't a crime committed up there. And we hadn't been gone two days, 'til there was a murder up there.

Babbitt: Your preventative (unclear) certainly (unclear). You know, we were talkin" about cowboys a little while ago, and you remember this morning at breakfast we mentioned something about the old days when there weren't enough women to go around when you fellahs had dances. How did you work that? I'd like to know a little more about that. You still had your dances, even though there weren't enough women?

Niel: Yes. We'd pick out some man, you know, and just tie a handkerchief on his arm, and (unclear) go to dancin'.

Babbitt: (unclear) lady, huh? What was it, square dancin'?

Niel: Square dancing, or a waltz or anything.

Jack: (unclear) square dances and waltzes in those days.

?: Polkas.

?: (unclear)

Babbitt: They did that, too?

Niel: Oh, yes. They called (unclear). It's almost the same as Over the Ocean Waves -- that' s what it means. The two tunes, the one's American, Over the Ocean Waves, and a little different, (unclear). Almost the same tune.

Babbitt: Did you ever have any dances when there weren't any women at all?

Niel: No. No, we'd just get together. Oh, lots of times maybe they'd be in a crowd where there was a couple hundred people, women all around, and we'd get to playin' or somethin', some man would start to waltz around through the crowd.

Jack: There was no such thing as tag dances in those days. You had a partner, and she was yours. The other guy'd try to get her, he's liable to get pushed out the door.

Niel: (unclear) used to be--well, she was Billy Dickinson's wife. She was just as full of fun as anybody could ever get in the world, you know. She'd dance, and she could jig dance too, you know. (laughs) One of those fellahs would go and get to dancin' with her. And we called her Nellie -- she was raised right, she was a [Papee?] you know, and all raised together, and [we never called her] Mrs. Dickinson, we called her Nellie. And we'd go and say, "C'mon, Nellie, let's (unclear)." (laughter obscures comment) and dancin'. Strictly (unclear). Oh, we had wonderful times.

Babbitt: Good old simple times. You didn't have radio or TV or a lot of things (unclear).

?: (unclear)

Jack: I danced all night, too.

Babbitt: All night long, huh?

Jack: Yeah.

Niel: I feel that the state of Arizona has truly been kind to me. (several talking at same time, none discernable)

Babbitt: Joe, there's one thing you were talking about, Will Barnes. What was he doing out in Arizona?

Pearce: Will Barnes was quite a historian (unclear). What gave Will his big reputation, he was a telegrapher at Old Fort Apache for the United States government. One of the troop of calvary was out, and they was (unclear), and the Indians was threatening to come and take over the Old Fort Apache, and they threatened to come in there and take it, and I guess they would have taken it. The commanding officer, I think his name was Colonel Bacon, he asked Will Barnes if he would carry a message to the man in charge who was on that campaign against the Apaches.

?: (unclear)

Pearce: And he was someplace way down here on [Pill?] Creek. And to take a message to him to have him come in (unclear) come back to the fort to help hold the fort. But Will Barnes carried this message and delivered it to his commanding officer, and the troops got back in time to save the fort. That's how he got his first big....

Babbitt: People started hearing about the man, then, and his effect in history.

Pearce: Then there's an English fellow who came in there by the name of Cameron and Benham [phonetic] and Swingren [phonetic]. Three Englishmen. They had a little money, and they formed a cattle company called the Esperanza, E-S-P-E-R-A-N-Z-A. That's "hopeful" (unclear), the "Hopeful" Cattle company, and they had a ranch just below Holbrook, about twenty miles below Holbrook. Well, (unclear) had a little bit of money, but he put his money into that English company, and they called it (unclear) they give Barnes the foremanship, or general manager of that company, (unclear) good brand of cattle and probably owned about 5,000 head at one time.

Babbitt: Pretty good operation then.

Pearce: Oh yes, it paid off well. Then finally they dried it up. And Will C. Barnes had this peculiar thing, how proper he'd [groom?]. (unclear) he was a very able writer, and he wrote about the cattle business.

Babbitt: I have several of his books, Long Horns and Spurs, I believe is one. Arizona Place Names. Very famous in Arizona History.

Pearce: Right (unclear). And he became soon the secretary of the National Livestock Association in Denver. Quite an able speaker, Barnes was, too. And then from that he became a secretary of the Livestock Sanitary Board here in Phoenix. And then later, why, he was appointed--he' d written so much on grazing and cattle--that he received the appointment as assistant United States chief of grazing in the United States Forest Service--chief of grazing. And he held that for a number of years in Washington, and he had the whole nation to look after as to grazing. And when he went out of that position, he named another man, (unclear) of Holbrook. You knew him.

Niel: Oh, yes, I knew (unclear) well. He's a Hashknife man.

Pearce: And he became chief of grazing for a number of years: two cattlemen out of Holbrook. To figure that, to hold that responsible position (unclear) great number of cattle there was in Holbrook, Flagstaff, and Winslow. Really, these men had a great deal to say about the cattle. And to think those two men were chosen in the United States to lead our government, was remarkable.

Niel: Another Arizona man, Joe, is Leo F. Knight from Prescott, chief of grazing for a long time. He was one of the best the Forest Service had, the most levelheaded man on grazing. Of course Bert Potter was good.

Pearce: Bert was good.

Niel: You bet he was. But so was Knight. (unclear) had this advantage (unclear) an accountant, you know, and he had a wonderful education. And Bert was just like those cow punchers, you know. We went through school one day when they had vacation. (laughter)

Babbitt: Well, Barnes was working with you on the [L. L. Rose?] allotments, and the forest that you were talking about (unclear). (phone rings)

Pearce: Yes, I worked with Barnes.

Babbitt: What was his past [event?]? Was that when he was chief of grazing?

Pearce: He was chief of grazing and....

Babbitt: Pardon me just a minute. (recording turned off and on) Well, we've all had a wonderful and interesting get-together, I think. I don't believe we're gonna impose on you fellahs any longer. We've been in this session for about two hours, two hours and a half. We've sure enjoyed being with you all.

Jack: Have you accomplished anything?

Babbitt: Oh, I've had a wonderful time, and I've gotten a lot of very valuable history. I never did have a complete insight and understanding of the Arizona Rangers, which I have now.

Jack: (unclear) on-the-spot talks here. (unclear) on the northern area. I was in there. My life certainly (unclear).

Babbitt: We got you last night on the southern area pretty well, so we've got a pretty well-rounded understanding and overall viewpoint of the activities and operations of the Arizona Rangers. We surely thank you for all gettin' together. And Rube helped me arrange this, and I'm doubly grateful to him.

Niel: What little I done, I'm delighted to do it, and I want to acknowledge one of the nicest times (unclear) number of years.

Pearce: First time, George, we've been together. This morning we had to talk about two hours, first time we've been together alone and (unclear).

Babbitt: Well, I thought you would. Well, it was sure wonderful.

Niel: You should have heard that two hours we had sittin' out in the car (unclear) there.

Babbitt: I'll bet. Maybe we'll get together in the next few weeks again, when it's convenient with everybody, and possibly get Oliver. Let's see Oliver and....

Niel: And (unclear) Palmer, P-A-L-M-E-R.

Babbitt: Oliver Palmer was one at Patagonia who couldn't make it. He's about eighty-some years old, is he?

Pearce: Tucson (unclear).

Babbitt: Oh, Oliver Palmer is in Tucson?

Niel: In Tucson.

Babbitt: And the man at Patagonia?

Niel: About eighty-two years old, C. L. Baty, B-A-T-Y, Baty.

Pearce: Clarence Baty.

Babbitt: He's not too well is he?

Niel: No. I'll tell you, he's [sad?]. [Mindy boy?] He's a Chippewa Indian. And he and I were partners for about eighteen months. And he's one of the nicest fellahs, most congenial I was ever out with.

Babbitt: Well, it'd be nice if we could all get together. It might be a little later on, we could possibly load ourselves in the car and go on down to Baty and have Oliver come on down to Tucson. If Joe can get down from Eager, he's got the farthest to go of any of us.

Niel: You go to Patagonia sometime and we can get him, you know. And he was a good officer. (unclear) He was valuable, he was a good trailer. We had a dog, he got the dog out of the penitentiary in Georgia for (unclear). And that dog, we used to train it. (unclear) get up in the morning and take (unclear) outfit, go on down the road, and I'd hold up two or three hours. He'd take a cutoff, (unclear) and I'd turn this dog loose. We had him trained to slow trail, just trot along, and every once in a while, look back, see if you was a-comin'. That dog, he trailed those mules for thirty-five, forty miles, in the day, lots of times, he done that, you know.

Babbitt: Well, you'd have to try to trail people once in a while, to get an evil-doer, huh? (unclear)

Niel: A little girl was lost up in the Kaibab, and Uncle Jim Owens, he (unclear).

Babbitt: Yes, I've read of Uncle Jim.

Niel: Well, he told me, "Now, just don't get excited. Just wait." He (unclear) on a horse, and he said, "You go over where those rangers are camped. Tell 'em this little girl's lost, to bring their dog." I picked the dog up in front of me, they handed him up, and we loped over there. It was about two-and-a-half miles to where the camp was. And the first thing, the dog looked for the little girl, because she'd been pettin' him the day before. He walked around there a little bit, and I'd just say, "Go on. Go on further, dog." And he started out, travellin' along. And I just rode. I told him, if I shoot, don't get excited. If I find the little girl, I'll shoot a couple of times. And it took down through the quakin' ash trees different places, you know, where the timber was thick, right off towards the Grand Canyon. And almost in a tangent. The dog (unclear) begin to get anxious you know, and wanted to go. And finally she broke loose and run, and there was a log that the bark had [shelled?] off, and that little girl had crawled over that. And she [i.e., the dog] run and put her feet up on that log, and I see a little hand come up to pet the dog.

Babbitt: Made you feel good, didn't it?

Niel: Yes! I got down and I said, "Betty, where you goin'?" She said, "Huntin' Mama." "Well," I said, "we'd better ride."

Babbitt: She wasn't afraid at all?

Niel: No. I told her, "You'd better not walk any further." "Yes," she said, "I'm tired." So I got her in the saddle. I said, "Now Betty, wait, I'm gonna shoot. We want to tell Mama you're all right."

Babbitt: How long had she been lost?

Niel: She'd been gone then about three hours. And so I shot a couple of times. Uncle Jim, he answered me. He said, "He's got her, she's safe." They wanted that dog, give me everything they had in the world for that dog. It probably saved the little girl's life.

Babbitt: That's wonderful. You know, you men have been doin' a lot of talkin'. I know Jack [Remlin?] here is married. We're sorry his wife couldn't be with us, because she has this bad (unclear).

Jack: Yeah, she can't get around very good.

Babbitt: Well, you give her our best regards.

Jack: I sure will.

Babbitt: Do you have any children, Jack?

Jack: Yes, I'm a grandpa. We've got two boys. I've got one boy in the American League, catching for Washington for years, sometime back. He's too old now. He's in Wichita, Kansas.

Babbitt: Fine! Well, you give your wife our best regards. Rube, you are not married, are you?

Niel: Oh, yes! (unclear) 1920. I was married all the time I lived (unclear) police. I married in San Francisco.

Babbitt: You ought to get your wife down to this next meeting.

Niel: Well, I don't know whether I can get her to come. She's kind of a home girl.

Babbitt: But she's a good cook, isn't she?

Niel: Oh, boy! (laughter)

Babbitt: How about you, Joe, are you married?

Pearce: Yeah, we have seven boys, and two daughters. We had five sons in the armed forces at one time in World War II. I had one son that was captured on Baton, and served 3% years in a Jap prison near Hiroshima, and was there when the shot went off and destroyed the city of Hiroshima. He was about three miles out from the city, and he felt the shock and he saw the light burning for three days and nights, and he thought it was Americans bombarding Hiroshima.

Babbitt: He came through in good health, though, did he?

Pearce: Oh, he broke down, [he died?]. There were 3,500 boys in the prison, and there were only 380 got out. Oh, he said he buried several thousand.

Babbitt: Oh, gosh, that was a horrible thing all right. Well, let's hope maybe more of the families can be with us next time. Number 13, number 15, is that right?

?: Uh-huh.

Babbitt: And number 20. We hope we all get together again soon with the other two. Do you know what the other two's number....

Jack: (unclear) the other two.

Babbitt: You don't know what their numbers are, do you?

Niel: Seven and fifteen, I wouldn't be too certain, (discussion of badge numbers, several talking at once) Oliver is 12.

Babbitt: We hope we have 7 and 12 with us next time.

Jack: I believe we should make an effort of some kind when we get together--this is more for my two compadres here--to get these two fellahs in on a meeting, because it don't have the right flavor. You know what I mean? Like we've been together several times, and we're awfully sorry the other fellahs can't (unclear), (several talking at same time, none discernable)

Pearce: Well, you tried, Jack. Well, you know, you've tried too.

Niel: Oh yes, I've tried.

Babbitt: Well, we might have to pack up and go down to Nogales or somethin', or Tucson.

Niel: I sent nine letters out, and that's the time (comment obscured by laughter).

Babbitt: We sure all had a wonderful time being with you, and I hope we get together real soon again. We ought to think our [our little wife?] for sitting by waiting patiently here for hours while we (unclear). (several talking at same time, none discernable)

Pearce: I certainly want to pay you one compliment, you picked out a nice crowd for an entertainment (unclear) bring one together, as far as the people (unclear). (several talking at same time, none discernable)

Babbitt: We all had a good time, I'm sure. Well, goodbye.

Pearce: Goodbye, and good luck to you.

Niel: Goodbye.

Babbitt: Goodbye, Rube. We'll see you again soon. Jack?

Jack: Bye.

Babbitt: We'll all get together soon. Thank you. Madeline

Babbitt: I certainly have enjoyed listening to your stories. It's like living a real movie thriller.

Babbitt: That's living Arizona history. These men are living Arizona history. Like I said in my talk to the Pioneers, when you reach your middle age, or mellow age, you like to look back and feel that you've contributed something, that you've done something good for your fellow men. And certainly all you folks can feel that way, you three gentlemen of the Arizona Rangers, and we all owe you a debt of gratitude, certainly. We hope we see you all again soon, too.

Pearce: The people that know this history are leaving pretty fast.

Niel: This last year there's been many of 'em that passed.

Jack: You've got several things here today....

Babbitt: That probably nobody in the world knows but you three men. Well fine, thank you very much for getting together.

Pearce: That's all right. But [I'll] tell you, George.... I'll never tell you I didn't want to be boastful. When I quit the Arizona Rangers, I was appointed a county ranger and held that for six years. And I worked from the Four Corners to the border of Mexico, alone. Rode that line alone. The next thing I was appointed was a special livestock detective for the Sanitary Board under Tom Cameron, and I held that four years under Tom.

Babbitt: You'll have to write your memoirs sometime, Joe.

Niel: Yeah.

Babbitt: Well, it's sure good to be with you fellahs. Let's go get a bite of lunch, what do you say?

Jack: I don't care for any myself, I had a late breakfast.

Niel: C. J. Babbitt could take the credit for contributing as much to the [protection] of livestock interests in Arizona as any man that ever came into it.

Babbitt: Well, I'm glad to know that, Rube, thank you. Well, adios then, fellahs.

Niel: We all liked him, and he apparently liked all of us.

Babbitt: I'm sure he did.

Niel: And he never (unclear). He overpaid you, if anything. If you ever done anything for C. J. as an officer, citizen, or anything else, the first thing was, (unclear).

Babbitt: Well, fine. (unclear)

Jack: Well, George, take care of yourself.

[END OF TAPE 57-ld, SIDE A; END OF ARIZONA RANGERS REUNION]