- 2 -
George served as a Lieutenant in Co. I, 11th Kansas Cavalry and was wounded on December 7,
1862. After the Civil War he was appointed a clerk in the War Department at Washington, D.C.
and served in this position until his death.
William Y. also served as a
Lieutenant in the Civil War in 1861 in Co. D, 2nd Kansas Infantry. After the
War he served as county clerk until his retirement.
Josiah R. filled the Office of
Deputy Treasurer for many years and also served two terms as County Treasurer
in Lyndon, Kansas. He served in three organizations
during the War of the Rebellion, from 1861 to 1866: The 2nd Kansas Infantry,
as a Private; Co. I, 11th Kansas
Cavalry, as a Sergeant; and 2nd and 1st Lieutenant of the 18th U.S.
Colored Troops.
Elizabeth
was born in Boston.
She married Nathan Densmore who died on the first
anniversary of their marriage. Their only child, a daughter, was seven weeks
old when Nathan died, and she only lived to be six months old. This was a very
tragic life for Elizabeth, who remarried eight years later to W.P. Deming.
Naomi, John’s youngest daughter,
also met a tragic death at the age of seventeen. She drowned while on her way
to a Fourth of July celebration.
Charles P., fourth son in the John
S. Drew family, did service in Co. I, 11th
Kansas Cavalry, as· a Corporal, was wounded in the engagement at Prairie Grove,
December 7, 1862, and remained in service throughout the war. He later was
Captain of the militia company in Burlingame.
He was appointed Adjutant General in the Kansas State Militia, and, as of
October, 1915, was residing at Topeka,
Kansas.
Joseph, the youngest of John Drew’s
family, whose story is being written here, struck out for himself in early
life.
Approaching maturity at the close
of the Civil War in 1865, Joseph engaged
- 3 -
in mercantile pursuits in various Kansas towns, latterly at Fort Dodge,
whence he came to Arizona.
Joseph was a medical student in his
youth but the California Gold Rush, which lasted from 1849 to 1860, lured him
to the American \vest.
Joseph's first stop upon arriving
in Arizona was Prescott. He had the appointment of sutler (a follower of an Army camp who peddled provisions
to the soldiers) to the Sixth Cavalry while enroute
from Kansas.
By the time Joseph Drew arrived in Prescott, the city had
already been the site of the capital from 1864 to 1867. Almost immediately, Prescott had saloons,
stores, government offices and a $5,000 theater. The Ninth Legislature moved
the capital back to Prescott from Tucson in 1877. The
capital was moved to Phoenix
in 1889.
The return of the capital to Prescott contributed
substantially to the growth of the community.
Although Joe Drew’s first stop upon
arrival in the .Arizona Territory was at Prescott, he and a gentleman by the name of Ruggles decided to pool their resources, formed a
partnership, and decided that the place to make a fortune would be at Vulture,
where they did become very successful.
Vulture was fourteen miles
southwest of Wickenburg and was one of the largest communities in the Arizona Territory and nearly became its capital.
In 1863 Henry Wickenburg discovered
the Vulture Mine, one of the richest in Arizona’s
territorial history. There are various stories concerning how Wickenburg
stumbled across the mine. One is that he shot a vulture and on picking it up
noticed gold nuggets lying on the ground. The second says that his burro ran
away and in anger Wickenburg threw rocks at it until he noticed that one of the
rocks contained gold. Another reports that Henry
Wickenburg noticed a number of buzzards hovering over this peak at the time he
made his
- 4 -
discovery.
After the mine was in operation for
several years, a community grew at the millsite known
as Vulture City. There were forty-six dwellings and
nearly two hundred inhabitants in 1870.
After the cottonwood trees and
mesquite had been cut to feed the mill, it was moved down the Hassayampa to Seymour.
In 1879 the newly-formed Central Arizona Mining Company built twelve miles of
six-inch pipeline and erected an eighty-stamp mill at the mine. Soon Vulture City shifted from the Hassayampa to the new milling operation at the Vulture. The
town grew to support three hundred residents in the mid-1880's.
Although Vulture City
grew rich am lusty, it was reportedly an extremely dull camp. Stage robberies
provided some entertainment.
The Prescott Weekly Arizona Miner, dated
October 22, 1875 had this to say about Joseph Drew's initial venture at
Vulture: “Another store – C.W.N. Ruggles and Jos.
Drew have arrived here with a stock of general merchandise from Kansas, and
having leased a lot from A.L. Moeller are building a store house between Asher
and Co's new store, corner of Montezuma and Goodwin Streets, and Frederick and Heenan's tin shop. The building will be 24 x 50 feet and
front on Montezuma street, three doors north of
the Miner Office. Ruggles and Drew had the
appointment of sutlers to the Sixth Cavalry while enroute to Kansas
here and now propose to settle into a regular trade.” Joseph Drew was thirty
years old at the time.
These two entrepreneurs sold
everything from mules (Weekly; Arizona Miner, December 3, 1875), to groceries (Weekly
Arizona Miner, March 3, 1876), to Gentleman's hats (Weekly Arizona Miner,
April 14, 1876).
On May 19, 1876 Joseph decided that
being a storekeeper was not exciting, and prosperous enough for his tastes, so
he closed out his stock of groceries
- 5 -
and liquors to devote himself to
mining and prospecting (Weekly Arizona Miner,
May 19, 1876).
Joseph joined forces with R. Pittibone, Frank Shultz and Len Sivyer,
and together they went in search of riches and fame.
The Weekly Arizona Miner had
this to report on June 30, 1876: “Drew, Pettibone, Sivyer, Keys and Shultz and Co. have made another discovery
on Cherry Creek this time and are sinking on it. Len Sivyer
was in town day before yesterday and took out a bellows and other blacksmith's
tools, some grub, etc., and. say may have a good
prospect, but are not prepared to say how good just yet until they prospect a
little further.”
Joe Drew was well on his way to
becoming a successful miner and he had no way of knowing that what was
happening at Culling's Well, some thirty-eight miles west
of Wickenburg at the time, would change his life completely.
- 6 -
CHAPTER II
Charles C. Culling
Charles C. Culling was born in London, England
about IB25 and was a saloon keeper before leaving that country.
After the notoriety of California t s gold
fields swept 'round the world, adventurers of all kinds -- from every walk of
life, turned their faces west obsessed with one thought: sudden wealth. For
many of them, the long, arduous trek in California
ended in death; for others it meant only disappointment and disillusion. Many
had thrown caution to the wind -- had burned all bridges behind them. When
they found no gold, they were lost -- life held no purpose for them. Some tried
ranching. Some went to work on the clipper ships. And some moved into the
unexplored wilderness that was the Arizona
Territory. One such was
Charles C. Culling.
When Charles Culling arrived at
Arizona City (now Yuma) in 1864, and upon boarding a sturdy little steamboat,
piloted by Captain Isaac Polhamus, on the Colorado
River for La Paz, his mind took him back to his home in London; to the many
years he had spent at sea in that country, and he wondered if he would ever see
Great Britain again.
After a short stay at La Paz, he settled in Vulture City
and was one of the first employees of Henry Wickenburg at the famous Vulture
Mine. He then prospected the Weaver country in company with William H. (Bill) Kirkland, notable Arizona
pioneer.
Excerpts from the Special
Territorial Census of 1864, taken in Arizona, shows Charles C. Culling at 40
years of age, single, length of residence 9 months, occupation - miner. On
April 4, 1864 Culling signed a petition to have the capital located in the
Walker-Weaving Mining La Paz District. This, of course, never materialized. (Weekly Arizona Miner,
April 4, 1864).
PLATE IX
Main Shaft - 1990
PLATE X
Ball Mill - 1990
- 7 -
La Paz, located seven miles north of
present-day Ehrenberg, was a very rich and extensive gold-mining district. It had
its beginning when Captain Pauline Weaver, noted Arizona
frontiersman, discovered gold near the Colorado River
in 1862.
The first surge of people flooding
into the area had little to eat besides mesquite beans and fish, but it did not
matter. Gold was the answer to all problems. In the evenings miners and
gamblers would spread their blankets on the dusty street and play cards for the
heavy nuggets.
La Paz grew by leaps and bounds. A year later
the town, thronging with Mexicans, Indians and white men, numbered about
fifteen hundred citizens. It became an important landing and freighting point
on the Colorado River, and was the county seat of Yuma until 1871. La Paz
was previously considered as a possible capital for Arizona Territory.
Gradually the Colorado River
changed its course, leaving La Paz
abandoned as a steamboat landing. Placer gold began to give out, and people
scurried away to the more promising settlement of Ehrenberg down-river.
Charles Culling was a visionary and
he was aware that the California
and Arizona Stage Company ran two stages daily, one to the east and one to the
west, from Ehrenberg to Wickenburg and Prescott, and he also knew that this
same route was used extensively by freight teams.
It was at a site where the road
forked, the right hand branch going forty-five miles eastward to Wickenburg,
and the other more northerly via Camp Date Creek, forty-five miles, and thence
to Prescott, a
total of 105 miles.
In the latter part of 1865, Charles
Culling decided to establish a stagecoach station at the location where these
roads intersected, but before doing this he had to locate water in the
immediate vicinity.
Here, in this desolate location, in
what is known as McMullen
Valley, the
- 8 -
headwaters of the Centennial Wash, between the Harquahala Mountains to the south and the Harcuver Mountains to the north, Charles Culling set up a
tent and with the help of a Mexican by the name of Jesus Altamarino,
and other workers, they dug a well, some four miles from what was to become Culling's Well, to 200 feet, but they failed to find water.
Undaunted, and with a fierce determination, Charles refused to give up and then
moved to the Culling's Well site where at 240 feet
his tenacity paid off when a good flow of water, sweet and soft, was struck. He
continued down another 25 feet to insure a plentiful supply.
Thus was established Culling’s Well, an oasis in the middle of a lonely and
dangerous road frequented often by hostile Apache Indians eager to loot,
plunder and kill any unwary traveler.
Charles rounded up some men and
erected a large adobe building for protection against the Indians. In time he
was to add additional rooms to accommodate his family and occasional weary
travelers who stopped by for room and board.
The well furnished a fine and
unfailing supply of water. The water was cool and was drawn up from the
darksome depths of the well in a great bucket made from a wooden barrel. The
revolving drum above the mouth of the well was operated by a blindfolded mule
that knew - to an inch - just how many rounds were required to be made before
the dripping, clanking bucket would reach the top and
automatically empty itself into a trough. At other tanks and troughs - a short
distance from the station - always stood cattle and horses purchased by Culling
from time to time, and. which were turned loose on the range, but came there to
drink of the life-giving water.
In addition to the daily stage each
way (at first they had been weekly), many freight teams stopped at Culling's Well. Here animals were
watered at twenty-five cents per animal, or fifty cents per barrel. Culling was
shrewd enough to obtain a contract with the stagecoach line to have all their
stock
- 9 -
watered at the well. His business
soon became very profitable, to say the least.
The Butterfield Overland Mail
promoted adequate service across Arizona.
The stages that passed daily were six-horse affairs.
The movie-style Concord stage was used on the eastern and
western ends of Butterfield's run, but for crossing the deserts and mountains
the firm used a light-weight “Celerity Wagon” specially designed for the route.
It had upholstered seats which could be folded down to make beds.
Stagecoaches of that era had an
oval-shaped body resting on straps slung between the front and rear axles. This
type of suspension enabled the body of the coach to roll rather than jerk or
bounce when the wheels hit obstructions. Nine to twelve people could be seated
inside depending on the model and additional passengers rode on the top.
Mules, instead of horses, were used on the “Celerity Wagons”. These mules were
more adaptable to rough mountain and desert travel.
In her book, "Ghosts of Adobe
Walls, It Neil Murbarger writes: "It is not now
known, or will it ever be known, how many lives were lost in the course of
sixty odd years of staging in Arizona Territory. Indians, bandits, accidents,
heat and cold and thirst, each took its toll of the hard life of staging -- a
life that of times demanded the last ounce of courage from horses and mules,
drivers and swampers, station tenders, and
passengers.”
Charles purchased small amounts of
food at the Goldwater's store in La
Paz in 1867 and 1868. He also obtained stocks of food
for the station from the government, which he distributed to the Indians. He
hired a Chinese cook to prepare the food.
By now Culling's Well was becoming well-known.
The Weekly Arizona Miner
published this item on December 17, 1870: “Mr.
- 10 -
Calvin White of the firm of Allen & White, arrived home
on the night of the 13th from San Bernardino, California and had this to say
regarding Stations and Station-Keepers along the route: 'He is not very lavish
in his praise of a majority of the station-keepers along the route, and the
manner in which they keep their stations, but speaks in high terms of Charles
Culling, keeper of the station at Culling's Well,
who, he says, has a nice, clean place, and takes pleasure in treating travelers
well. Wish the others would copy after Charley. He know
it would be to their profit to do so.' “
The Arizona Miner of March 14, 1868 published a notice to all
teamsters and. travelers showing the "Safest and Best Route from the
Colorado River to the Interior of Arizona,” which included Culling's
Well, had this to say about the route: "Abundance of water for men and
animals at all times. There is plenty of feed on this route. The Indians are
peaceable on the route.”
Approximately a year later the
Indians were not as “peaceable,” for on February 26, 1869, the stage traveling
from La Paz to Wickenburg, carrying the mail and two passengers, and driven by
Bill Tingley, was attacked by Indians who had hidden
beside the road at Granite Wash (between the present towns of Hope and Salome).
As the stage approached, the Indians began shooting at the stage, which scared
the horses driving them right into another band of Indians concealed in the
high grass nearby. Driver Tingley, however, managed
to swing the team around and continued on towards Wickenburg while passengers
held the Indians at bay. During the fight both Tingley
and passengers were wounded but the horses finally outran the Indians and they
made it safely to Culling's Well.
The Apache Indian problem had its
beginning in the southwest in early 1861 when Lieutenant Colonel Pitcairn Marrison detached Second Lieutenant George N. Bascom and approximately sixty men to recover a white boy
and. some cattle that
- 11 -
had supposedly been stolen by the Chiricahuas earlier. Although Cochise, the Chiricahua chieftain, came into Bascom's
camp voluntarily, accompanied by several of his relatives and friends, Bascom had them surrounded and demanded the return of the
boy and the cattle declaring that Cochise and his party would be held hostages
until both were brought in. Cochise protested his innocence to no avail.
Sensing that the Lieutenant meant what he had said, Cochise drew his knife,
slit an opening in the side of the tent and escaped unharmed. One warrior
followed his chief through the hole in the tent but was killed. The other six,
mostly relatives of Cochise, were seized as hostages. This tragic and needless
episode became known as the “Bascom Affair.”
The "Bascom
Affair” so enraged Cochise that he launched a long and terrible war, intending
no less than the total extermination of all Americans in Arizona.
With the New Mexico Territory
stripped of troops due to the Civil War, the odds lay with the Chiricahuas. In two months they slashed their way through
dozens of white settlements in the Arizona
country and took 150 lives.
Most of the early governors
identified the hostile Apache as the chief obstacle to civilization in
frontier Arizona.
Governor Goodwin,
who had been appointed as governor to the Territory by Lincoln
on August 18, 1863 although the Territory
of Arizona was not
formally established until December 29, 1863 at Navajo Springs, requested.
that a sufficient number of federal troops be sent to
round up those Indians who persisted in plundering and desolating the
Territory.
In 1865, because of the Indian
depredations in the Territory, the district of Arizona, a part of the
Department of California, was placed under the command of Brigadier General
John S. Mason, who came east from California
with 2,800 men to re-garrison the old posts and to establish new ones. But
little was accomplished
-12-
by these troops as the Apaches
continued to raid at will, Then on April 15, 1870 the district was detached
from California
and made a separate department.
Under the command of Brigadier
General George Stoneman, a new policy was initiated
based on the theory that the Indians would respond to kindness, religious
instruction, and training in agrarian methods.
Stoneman
made treaties and established reservations with those Indians who would accept
them, and by feeding the Indians when they agreed to these terms.
The “Carnp
Grant Massacre” of April 30, 1871, in which a citizen army from Tucson,
composed of approximately fifty enraged Americans and almost one hundred Papago Indians, attacked a reservation for the Aravaipa Apaches near Camp Grant and killed one hundred and
eight of the Indians and carried off twenty-nine children into captivity, only
enraged the Apaches that much more.
Lieutenant Colonel George Crook
arrived in the Territory on June 4, 1871 and took command of the Department
from Stoneman. His job was to undertake a field
campaign to force the renegades to reservations. Cochise and the Chiricahua Apaches signed a treaty in which they were given
a reservation in southeastern Arizona.
He honored this treaty until his death on June 8, 1874.
After Cochise's
death, his oldest son, Taza, became the head of the Chiricahuas. Due to his lack of strong leadership the
tribe split with some of the tribe remaining in the reservation and the rest of
malcontents fleeing to the mountains determined to continue their open warfare
in 1876 under the leadership of a rising war leader, Geronimo.
Charles Culling, in the meantime,
continued to distribute government food, mostly flour and staples, and was
generally not bothered by the Apaches until January 18, 1871.
On January 23, 1871 a letter was
written to the Editor, Arizona Miner,
from Camp McDowell, Arizona Territory, which reads as follows: “I suppose are
- 13 -
this reaches you, you will have
heard of still another outrage at Culling's Well on
the La Paz
road. About daylight Wednesday morning, the 18th, the Indians ran nineteen head
of horses and mules belonging to Mr. Culling, and seven head of oxen from the
train of M. Cavaness. As soon as the loss was
discovered Messrs. Culling and Cavaness started in
pursuit, following them into the White Tanks. Finding the party was too large
for them to cope with, and the trail leading in the direction of the Verde,
they started at once for this post, and arrived here Saturday morning about 8
O'clock. As every available horse was out with Major Veil, after the stock of
W. B. Helling & Co., Colonel Sanford was
compelled to mount fifteen men part of them Infantry, on mules of the Q.M.
Dept. Lieutenant J. M. Ross was placed in command and started in immediate
pursuit taking a straight course to the Verde. About eight miles from the post,
the trail was struck crossing the river. Following it for nine miles they
suddenly came on the Indians, who were encamped, cooking and eating an ox. The
troops charged them, but the country being exceedingly rough and almost
impassable for horses, the Indians succeeded in getting off, though leaving in
their precipitate flight, every single thing they possessed. Nine horses, three
mules, and three oxen were recaptured, besides bows, arrows, knives, blankets,
etc.
As Lieutenant Rose’s animals were
completely used up and his party too small to enter far into the dangerous
country, he was compelled to return to the post, arriving here safely the same
night, with all the recaptured stock.”
(The article goes on to rake the
government over the coals for not mounting the Infantry, so they could be twice
as effective against the Apaches, etc.)”
Another raid by the Indians
occurred at Culling's Well
sometime in February 1871. During this raid a party of Indians shot one horse,
which they could not drive, and drove off another horse and six head of cattle.
The raiders were
- 14 -
pursued and the cattle recaptured.
In this vicinity the Indians had confined themselves to stealing corn, etc.
(Weekly Arizona Miner, February 11, 1871).
This was followed by yet another
raid, which was reported to the Weekly Arizona Miner on February 18, 1871 by
the driver of Grant's Stage.
On November 4, 1871 occurred what
became known as “The Wickenburg Massacre.” This happened when a stagecoach
bound for California,
with seven men and a woman aboard, was attacked on the Ehrenberg road, nine
miles west of Wickenburg. Six of the men, including a well-known scientist, and
a New York Tribune correspondent named Fred W. Loring,
were killed by Apaches. The two wounded survivors, William Kruger and a Miss
Nellie Sheppard probably were able to escape because the attackers began an
orgy on the “firewater” they found in the lucrative loot.
- 15 -
CHAPTER III
Maria Valenzuela
Things had quieted down at Culling's Well and construction was progressing on the
station when Charles Culling, now age 46, met Maria Valenzuela, who was to
become his wife and to share his life at Culling’s
Well for the years to come.
Maria Imperial Valenzuela was born
in Sonora, Mexico, on February 1857.
Her mother, Martina Imperial, had married Marcial Valenzuela in Mexico but Marcial
died when Maria was still a baby. Martina left Mexico
with Maria in tow and came to the United States when Maria was just
three years old. She came with her two brothers, who were cattlemen, and
settled in the lush region of what is now Imperial
Valley, California.
The Valley was named after the Imperial family.
Martina was described by her
granddaughter, Adelina (Drew) Loza, as “small, independent, and industrious and
refused to depend on her relatives for substenance.”
There was very little work to be
had by women in those days, so Martina decided to go to the gold rush camp of La Paz to try to set up a
boarding house. She was an excellent cook and the miners were in sore need of
good food.
As mentioned previously, gold was
discovered in La Paz
in 1862 and was a boom town of 1,500 inhabitants when Martina and her child,
Maria, made the trip there.
Building materials in the mining
camps were almost nonexistent. Most individuals lived in tents, so Martina put
up one large tent with suitable tables in the center, which would serve as a
dinning place, and to one side she set up a small kitchen. Another tent she
kept for herself and Maria. When she opened for business, she was literally
swamped with customers. There were just too many and she could not possibly
cook for them all. Nevertheless, she took in as many
- 16 -
as she was able to and in this way,
even though the work was hard, she made a good living and felt happy and
secure.
Things went well for Martina. She
became quite independent by having her own little business, and a good income.
Indeed, she never lacked customers in all the years she maintained her boarding
house. Whenever possible, she would purchase a cow, thus supplying the miners
with fresh milk and cream for their steaming hot cups of coffee. Her day
started around 4 a.m. with a cold bath summer or winter. In a large trunk she
kept her clothes and undergarments folded neatly and carefully. Dressing
quickly, with her hair parted in the middle, and drawn tightly in a bun, she
would head for her kitchen and another day of hard work.
Martina prepared three meals a day
for the miners: Hot biscuits, delicious roasts, and a favorite that was enjoyed
by all -- baked ribs with almond chili. This latter dish permeated the whole
area with a mouth-watering aroma. If the miners wished to take a lunch with
them, she would prepare one tortilla rolled up with a filling of
chili-eon-carne, another with refried beans, and another with chopped green
chili, onions and tomatoes, seasoned with garlic, salt and pepper. These would
stay hot and fresh until they were consumed and represented a hearty and
well-balanced meal to the hard-working gold miner. This menu certainly beat
the steady diet of mesquite beans and fish that these workers had been used to
prior to Martina's arrival at La Paz.
It was here at La Paz in late 1865 that a gentleman by the
name of Charles C. Culling made his appearance at Martina's boarding house. He
introduced himself as an Indian Agent authorized by the government to set up a
station and briefly described the proposed side between Wickenburg and
Ehrenberg. He asked if Martina would board him for a few days until the well
was dug at the station. She agreed as Mr. Culling appeared to be a very kind
individual. The well completed,
- 17 -
Charles returned to Culling's Well
to oversee the management of the station. Maria was now eight years old.
The boom lasted about two years at La Paz and after the Colorado River changed its course,
and La Paz was
abandoned as a steamboat landing, Martina pulled up stakes and, like most of
the inhabitants, moved to Ehrenberg. Here she lived, busy and content, doing
what she loved most -- cooking. It was now 1869 and Maria was twelve years old.
It was here also at Ehrenberg that
Martina, after years of austere living and tedious hours spent at her work,
that she decided to remarry, for she wanted security and companionship for
herself and Maria. Unfortunately, her marriage to Jesus Osuna
turned out to be more of a tragedy than a blessing for Jesus was a miserable,
abusive wretch who demanded to be catered to and expected both Martina and
Maria to wait on him hand and foot. To him both Martina and Maria were nothing
but servants and treated them as such.
He took Martina’s hard-earned money
to spend on liquor, and who knows what else, for he never did any work. Most of the time he stayed drunk and had a violent temper.
Maria, for nights at a time, would lay shivering in fright as Jesus inflicted abuse upon her
mother, not knowing when he would burst into her room shouting and raving at her
also. Maria lived in constant fear of him and when she would see him coming,
especially if he was intoxicated, she would run over to a neighbor's house to
get out of sight.
Things got so bad at home, putting
up with her abusive stepfather, that Maria even
thought of leaving home, although the thought of leaving her mother was almost
unbearable.
Charles Culling never lost touch
with Martina and as the years went by, and with the station making daily
progress, he returned to Ehrenberg in 187l
- 18 -
but by now, fully aware of the
miserable life Maria, now age 14, had been experiencing, he decided to discuss
Marla's situation with Martina.
Jesus Osuna,
Maria’s stepfather, had absolutely no respect for Charles or Charles' presence
there so it was obvious to Charles that Maria was under a terrible strain and
it pained him deeply to see her thus.
Charles was not unattractive, was
46 years old, and he had endeared himself to Martina and to Maria by his
kindness and thoughtfulness during the time he had boarded with them. Charles
told Martina that he had been seriously thinking of Maria and that perhaps he
could offer this young girl a happier life than the one she was facing now.
Martina told Charles, with tears in her eyes, of all their suffering am unhappiness,
and said that she had just about decided to send Maria away to live with some
relatives. Charles then asked Martina's permission to marry Maria and he went
on to assure her that he would make a good home for her and to take care of her
always. Martina hesitated because of Maria’s age, who was still playing with
dolls, but she knew deep in her heart that Charles meant all he had said and
she also knew that Maria would only suffer more there with her stepfather. In
the end she told Charles that she would talk this matter over with Maria, being
careful not to press her, but letting her make the final critical decision.
In the meantime Charles returned to
the station to await Maria’s decision. The more Maria thought of marriage to
Charles, the more it seemed to her a blessing, an answer to all of her
problems. She was not in love with him but admired and respected him very much
and this was akin to love. She even felt a gladness in
her aching young heart at getting away from her abusive stepfather, she came to
a decision.
When Charles returned, rather
apprehensively, to Ehrenberg in December of 1871, Maria told him the news he
had been so anxious to hear. Yes, she would
- 19 -
marry him and this pleased and made
Charles very happy.
Charles Culling and Maria
Valenzuela were married with Martina's blessing. This item appeared in the Weekly Arizona Miner, December
23, 1871: “Married at Wickenburg, December 17, 1871, by W.K. Ferris, J.P., Mr.
Charles Culling and Miss Maria Valenzuela, both of Yavapai County. The ceremony was celebrated with
wine, chickens and other good things."
Later, because Maria was Catholic, they were married by a
priest.
- 20 -
CHAPTER IV
Life at Culling's Well
You have heard of men who fought and
died for gold and silver. You know of those pioneers who struggled to raise
cattle on the frontier. You have seen a motley assortment of men and women --
all seeking, fighting, dreaming.
There was a man who found what he
sought not in a vein of gold or a herd of cattle but in a stream of crystal
clear water. This man was Charles Culling.
Yes, Charles had found two
treasures: The crystal clear water in McMullen Valley's
Centennial Wash and he had found. Maria Valenzuela -- now his bride.
At first the desert was very lonely
and quiet and Maria was the only girl at the station. Also, she was young and
full of fears, especially of the Indians, who attacked isolated settlements
like theirs without warning. Charles reassured her by telling her that the Indians
had already heard of these stations which supplied them with food and for this
reason he doubted they would be harmed. As it turned out, Charles was quite
right. Food was very precious to the Indian and he would not do anything to
jeopardize this gift of the white men, although he regarded the intent with
deep suspicion. That the Indians were close by, however, was apparent in the
loss of stock in 1871.
Charles tried hard to win Maria's
confidence and, since he was a wise and kind person, he realized that she was
young, not yet over the trials of the past few years, and not ready for .the
responsibilities of marriage. He knew also that she missed her mother very much
and promised her to take her to Ehrenberg to see her mother soon. In the
meantime he bought her a gentle pony and a new saddle. Maria was delighted with
her pony and spent much time exploring this wide and lonely countryside. There
was not much for her to do at the station since Charles already had a cook and other workers to do the chores.
- 21 -
Maria was a good rider and enjoyed
this newly found freedom immensely. Charles cautioned her not to wander too
close to the mountains since they were occupied by large bands of renegade
Apaches.
A few of the Indians had already
ventured down to the station and Charles had distributed some food. This action
seemed to please the Indians for they were always hard-pressed for food. They
eked out a bare supply of food from the desert and had very little meat.
The station had been constructed in
1868. Using what Indian and Mexican labor he could muster. The large dwelling
finally erected resembled a fort.
It consisted, at first, of four
rooms with a wide hall running down the center. The stage station walls were of
unusual thickness, consisting of adobe bricks made at the site. Pine poles were
placed across the roof, and a layer of brush was piled on next. After that came
a heavy layer of dirt, well-packed down. It is said that this roof never
leaked. The walls were all whitewashed with lime. Later some storage rooms were
added to the central building. Adjacent to it was a small corral enclosed with
an adobe wall about five feet high, with only one gate entrance.
Charles had stocked a large supply
of food and goods, such as roadside stores handled in those days, and he also
stacked a goodly amount of liquor. The station also served as a mail drop.
The Indians were coming down from
their dwellings in larger numbers, as Charles had anticipated, but never making
a hostile move. Usually they would linger at a distance to watch the station's
activities.
Maria, riding side-saddle on her
pony, had become a familiar sight to the Indians and they never harmed her in
any way as she took her daily rides through the desert. The fact that they did
not harm her will seem quite remarkable to anyone when you consider that these
same Indians were ambushing the stages and killing the settlers.
-22-
The Apaches were a handsome people - standing straight and
tall and with regular, bold features. The women, as a mark of beauty, had their
chins tatooed in straight lines, running from the
lower lip to the bottom of the chin. The women of the tribe did most of the
work in addition to some basket-weaving and pottery-making.
The Indians began to come every day
to the station for food and they were extremely curious about the station and
everything in it. They gathered in the doorways or stood at the windows looking
at the furniture, the wood stove, and especially at Maria as she went about her
duties. Occasionally Charles would show them how to prepare some of the food
and they seemed willing to learn.
David S. Chamberlain (1848-1933)
was a relatively well-known Arizonan. He lived in Tombstone for a short time and while there,
developed some of that city's first wells. Later he became a millionaire in the
manufacture of patent medicine. In his early years he did a great deal of
prospecting in the Arizona
Territory. His views of Culling's Well in 1871 appeared in
the Arizona Republican, dated
April 20, 1932, and titled “Journey to Arizona
in 1871.”
"Our last stop was Cullen's
(sic) Wells, which was also a stage station. The regular stages ran weekly, but
another weekly mail was carried between times by a buckboard, without carrying
passengers. We arrived at Cullen's (sic) Wells early in the morning. Cullen
(sic) had a small corral, enclosed with an adobe wall about five feet high,
with only one gate entrance. We got our animals inside the corral, and
proceeded to get breakfast. I remember buying half a dozen eggs from Charles Cullen
(sic). A lot of Indians from the Date Creek Agency were there. I fancy there
must have been at least 150. They wanted to get into the corral and were
begging for something to eat. I ordered them to vamos
but they seemed very persistent so I took my six-shooter and told them to
'pronto
- 23 -
vamos.’
My partner was very much alarmed, thinking that I was starting a fight and that
we would both be killed but we got them out and kept them out. It was very hot
and dusty and we had little rest, as only one of us slept at a time, the other
sitting with a Henry rifle over his knee. Frequently, some of the Indians would
peak over the wall but none of them entered in.”
David Chamberlain and his partner,
for the matter, were rather lucky in their dealings with these Indians. Later
that same year was when the “Wickenburg Massacre” took place less than
forty-five miles from Culling's
Well.
The stage station grew during the
following months. Freight wagons brought new doors and windows and some
furniture from San Francisco.
New additions were made to the already existing structures, and Culling
increased his herds of cattle and horses, and added flocks of chickens.
However, all was not fun and
profit. Another Indian raid took place in 1872.
This item appeared in the Weekly Arizona Miiner
on March 9, 1872: “F. Hawthorn, who came up this week from Culling's
station, informs us that he, himself, lost four mules; S.O. Miller, of this
place, two mules; and William Yerkes, one horse. And coming back next day, the
same party of thieves took a horse out of the herd while Ed Lamley
was doing his best to drive them away. Hawthorne, Charles Culling and some
Apache-Yuma Indians followed the trail of the thieves but did not catch up with
them."
Another disaster befell Charles and
14aria on July 1872.
This time a band of Apache Indians
raided the station and stole some more stock. Maria did not witness this
attack. During 1872 a series of raids on the station netted the Indians 132
head of stock; they partly destroyed one corral; burned 200 tons of native hay.
On several occasions, Charles and
his hired hands would give chase but, except
- 24 -
on one occasion when Charles and
the cowboys retook the stolen stock, the Indians usually got away leaving not a
single trace.
This was not all because on
September 14, 1872 the “Weekly Arizona
Miner” published this article: "On the night of September 4,
Apache-Mohave Indians stole eighteen head of animals from. Culling’s
station, and five more from a. station further on the
road, towards Ehrenberg.
This we learn from a note from A.O.
Noyes, who, with his family, had got that far on his way to California.”
It was around this time that one
sunny day the stagecoach arrived as usual at the station. By now Maria had
become quite bored with life at the station and she decided she would learn to
cook. She had been very annoyed for some time with the Chinese cook, who
considered the kitchen his personal domain and resented Maria’s presence there.
He let it be known that the kitchen was off-limits to everyone, including the
boss's wife, and would definitely not tolerate anyone fussing around and
getting in his way. This didn't deter the stubborn Maria,
for she was determined she would learn to cook regardless of the consequences.
The way she went about this was to peek in through the open door when the
Chinese cook had his back turned and watch him prepare the meals. In this way,
she at least learned the basics of cooking and made up her mind that as soon as
she became proficient she would give this arrogant cook his “walking papers.”
The stagecoach stopped and Maria,
who by now felt that she was capable of preparing the meals, prepared the hot
meals for the passengers while the drivers watered the horses at the well.
On this particular day, a friend of
Charles alit from the stagecoach much to Charles' surprise and joy. His name
was Christian Berry.
Christian Berry, a native of Charleston, South
Carolina, had enlisted as a Private in Company H, 7th
Regiment California Volunteer Infantry on November 6, 1864
- 25 -
and mustered on December 9. He saw
service in California and Forts Yuma
and Mason, Arizona Territory before being discharged at
Drum Barracks on March 1, 1866.
“Berry,” as he was called by everyone, worked
at the Vulture Mine, Wickenburg, after his discharge. The 1870 Census taken on
August 20, 1870 shows him at Vulture at the time. Although it is not certain if
Charles knew him from there or not.
By occupation, this five-foot,
seven-inch, fair-complected and blue-eyed and blonde
Southerner was a miner.
Upon arrival at Culling's
Well, Christian Berry’s intention was to visit with Charles for a while before
continuing on his way to look for a job.
Somehow Charles persuaded him to
remain at the station as an employee.
During the evening meal he had
noticed the short temper of the Chinese cook, which was rather obvious. He told
Charles that he had been a cook in the Army and offered to take over the
kitchen duties as part of his job there. Charles and Maria were delighted and told
him that the job was his. The excellent, but sullen Chinese cook quit in a fit
of temper, which saved Maria the trouble of firing him.
Berry turned out to be clean and efficient
and an excellent cook. He taught Maria the finer points of meal preparation.
His favorite meal was barbecue. He would dig a pit in the ground, surround the
interior of the pit with pre-heated rocks, then he
would place a couple of large choice cuts of beef in the pit. The pit was then
covered and the beef allowed to cook the entire night.
In the morning the beef was extracted and it was so tender that it could be
sliced with a fork. He also prepared corned beef and taught Maria how to make
butter and cheese since milk was plentiful. There were always large rounds of
cheese and butter on the table and large pitchers of molasses to pour over Berry's golden, flaky
biscuits.
- 26 -
Berry also helped with the heavy chores
around the station and with the stock. In fact, Berry had found his place in life at Culling's Well and became the
major domo, or jack-of-all-trades, of the establishment.
On October 12, 1872 Charles Culling
was appointed Precinct Inspector for Precinct Deep Wash at Culling's
Well for the general elections scheduled for November.
What this job entailed is not known but obviously Mr. Culling was well known in
the Territory by this time.
Although Culling Station was rather
isolated from other white establishments, there were always travelers passing
through to keep Maria from becoming too bored or lonely.
On one occasion, she even invited a
friend of hers, Mary, from Wickenburg to come and visit with her at the
station.
Winter passed quickly and in early
spring, Mary finally arrived at Culling's Well to the delight of Maria.
This was a particularly beautiful
time of the year in this desert country. The early morning air was always cool
and refreshing and the world seemed permeated with the faint scents of mesquite
and creosote blossoms. The washes would be carpeted with wild flowers creating
a riot of color from marigolds, poppies, lilies and blue lupine. The sounds of
birds were everywhere, as if welcoming the joy of spring, and it was into these
surroundings that Maria and Mary rode their ponies almost daily.
One particular day as these two
tomboys were riding fairly close to the mountains, which were extremely
dangerous due to the Indians lurking nearby, they happened upon a large nest in
a Palo Verde tree. The tree being rather shady was an open invitation for them
to sit under its green branches to rest from their ride. As they sat under this
tree, both kept wondering what kind of bird would build such a large nest.
- 27 -
Perhaps an eagle had built it but Maria had never seen an
eagle in this area. Curiosity got the best of Maria and scrambling up the tree
she peered into this nest only to be confronted by a rather large lizard which
hissed at her. The lizard, nearly two-feet in length with a stout body and
covered with black, orange and yellow scales, resembling beads, was a Gila
Monster -- a venomous lizard that is capable of inflicting sometimes fatal
wounds. This startled the brave Maria, who jumped down from the Palo Verde with
the Gila Monster following close behind. What this
creature was doing up the tree is uncertain but Maria learned a very important
lesson, beware of the desert. Maria and Mary needed no urging to sprint for
their ponies and gallop back to the station.
Upon arrival at the station they
could see a number of Indians gathered as usual around the doors and windows,
talking and gesturing amongst themselves and pointing at different things,
which were all foreign to them. They had never seen a wood stove nor dishes or
other furniture. They had no idea how the white man prepared his food, how this
food tasted, or even what they ate. In time, Charles would hand out to the
Indians different dishes that had been prepared as they could sample them. The
rest would gather around eagerly to watch. First the sample dish was smelled
then cautiously eaten. It always amused Charles to watch this ritual and to see
the surprised, almost comical, expressions that came over their faces. They
seemed to relish every dish, so Charles gradually began to give them a little
more variety of food and often showed them how to prepare it.
Maria began to venture out on her
daily rides with more confidence. The Indians seemed friendlier somehow,
perhaps it was the way Charles treated them. At any rate there was little
hostility in their attitude toward Maria and Charles as compared to what it had
been earlier. Charles felt that perhaps they had finally reached some sort of
understanding with the Apaches.
- 28 -
One day an old squaw, who gave her
name as “Chacha,” appeared at the ranch and told
Charles that if he would go with her to a certain mountain, she would show him
where a large gold mine was. She indicated this in sign language as she spoke
only a few words of English. Charles was quite familiar with the Apache sign
language and was able to communicate with her. Charles was rather skeptical
about the squaw’s information and he feared that perhaps this woman was trying
to lead him into a trap. After all, some of the renegade Apaches were still on
the warpath although those visiting the station seemed friendly enough. While
these thoughts were running through Charles’ mind, the old squaw stood by
quietly waiting for a sign from Charles. In the end Charles decided to go with
her but asked one of the cowboys working at the station to accompany them. When
the squaw understood what Charles wanted to do, she shook her head decisively
and indicated that either Charles went alone with her or the deal was off and
she firmly refused to budge. The lure of gold was too strong to resist so
Charles agreed to go with her but, as an added precaution, he slipped a six-shooter
into his pack before they departed.
The range of mountains where "Chacha” told Charles where the gold was to be found was
some seven miles from the station and were known as the Harquahalas.
Harquahala
means “running water” or Ah-ha-qua-hale – “water there is, high up” to the
Mohave Indians. An earlier name for the mountain was Penhatchapet
(1865), probably because on their south slope was a spring called Pen-Hatehai-Pet water. By 1869 this same spring was being
called Hocquahala Springs and the name was gradually
used to include the mountains themselves. The attempts of white men to wrap
their tongues around this word has resulted in various spellings, among them Huacahella Mountains and Har-que-halle Mountains. They are, name and all, the
most massive in Central-Western Arizona.
- 29 -
"Chacha”
led Charles towards these mysterious mountains until they arrived at a sort of
divide and then she stopped close to a spring of cool water. She dismounted and
sat down on a large flat rock. Charles, thinking that she was tired and
thirsty, started to sit down also in the shade of a mesquite tree. She would
have none of this and insisted that Charles keep on looking for the gold. She
was very superstitious about revealing locations of gold or treasures of any
kind to a white man. She believed that if she did show him the exact location
of the gold, she would be denied entrance into the "happy hunting grounds”
in the hereafter. On the other hand, if this white man found the gold by
himself, she would not be guilty of this offense.
Charles, by this time, was in a
frenzy of excitement thinking that he was within sight of this fabulous gold
mine, so putting aside tiredness and heat, he wandered around the area, poking
here and. there, lifting rocks and digging into sand and dirt with his pick
until exhausting himself completely.
Finding nothing, and with the
evening shadows creeping up gradually, he decided to spend the night near the
spring and return to the search the following morning.
Early the next morning, just as the
first rays of the sun made their appearance, Charles began the search again,
almost frantically, but to no avail. All day he toiled with the “gold fever”
deeply burning into his already tired body. This effort produced absolutely no
trace of any gold or gold ore and, in anger, decided to end this useless search
for the legendary treasure. Picking up his gear, he disgustedly took one more
look at these taunting mountains and started back to the station as the
deepening shadows blanketed the Harquahalas
concealing their earthly treasures, perhaps forever.
The squaw, a smile upon her rugged
features, shrugged, mounted her horse and followed silently.
- 30 -
Ironically, in 1869, just three years
before Charles Culling went searching for the allusive gold mine, it was
reported that a Pima Indian had made a big strike in the Harqhahila
(sic) Mountains but the San Francisco
Chronicle asserted many years later that an Army officer first struck gold
there, only to be driven off by Apaches. The same newspaper stated that five
prospectors had managed to slip into the area while the Apaches were on the
rampage a take $36,000 in surface gold before clearing out several days later.
In fact, as early as the 1860's,
reports had filtered out that gold had been discovered in the Harquahalas by three Frenchmen who had come to Yuma and had deposited
eight thousand dollars in gold at George Hooper's mercantile establishment.
Although attempts were made to follow these miners back to the source of the
gold mine, neither the Frenchmen nor the mine were found. It was assumed that
the Apaches had killed the Frenchmen before they revealed the location of the
bonanza.
Charles, of course, had no way of
knowing this at the time.
The Lost Squaw Mine was discovered
in Spanish times. The conquerors of Mexico
found the mine in the Adonde (now Copper Mountains)
Range near Baker's Tank, and took out several million dollars in gold. For some
reason known only to them, they abandoned the mine after some years.
There are several contradictory
versions regarding the Lost Squaw Mine.
Indians knew where the mine was
located but kept it a secret. One generation after another described its
location to their young men, with the admonition that to disclose its site to
an outsider meant death. Squaws were never told the location of the mine
because they talk too much. One young Indian woman did learn about the mine in
spite of the effort to keep the information from females.
Another version places the Lost
Squaw Mine in an area somewhere south of
- 31 -
Cullen's (sic) Well. The Prescott Courier was the original
source of this tale.
According to the Courier, “back in 1872, when
General George Crook was chastising the warring Apaches, a sick squaw appealed
to Charles Cullens (sic) to allow her to remain the area rather than be removed
to a reservation. Cullens (sic) granted her request.
While talking to the old squaw, Cullens (sic) noticed that she had ear rings of gold. He
asked where she got them and she replied that the gold came from a mine far to
the west in the desert. When Charles asked if she would take him to the mine,
she agreed to take him part of the way because of his kindness. After the woman
took him some distance and gave him directions, Cullens
(sic) went on alone. Before he was able to find the mine his water ran out and
he had to give up the search. Cullens (sic) died
without having found the mine.”
The legend of the Lost Squaw Mine
was to pop up again in the late 1880’s and early 1890's.
The year was 1873. Maria was now
sixteen and a half years old and was expecting her first child. Since the
station was so isolated, it was decided that Maria would stay with her mother,
Martina, at Ehrenberg while the baby was delivered, and for a short time after,
or until she felt well enough to return to Culling's
Well.
Charles left the ranch in Berry's very capable
hands and he and Maria set out for Ehrenberg. Daniel L. Culling was born on
August 18, 1873. Charles was overjoyed over his birth. He hastened back to the
station to make preparation for the new baby. He ordered a crib, garments, and
other essentials that Maria would need for the newborn and he and Berry anxiously awaited
their return.
Maria was soon back
on her feet, feeling strong and healthy. Her mother's excellent care and
equally good food put a bloom in Maria's face, and the baby was doing well. In due time she came home to the station and took up her house-hold
duties.
- 32 -
Now that she had an infant to care for, the time flew by
with busy days for them all. Berry
loved the baby too and aided with his care and welfare whenever Maria needed
him.
One day, not long after her return
from Ehrenberg, Maria was working in the kitchen when a squaw silently entered
unannounced. By now Maria was familiar with these Indians and had even picked
up some of the Apache language. The squaw had a little boy with her. He
appeared to be about nine years of age and seemed quite shy. She approached
Maria and taking the youngster’s hand gave him to Maria telling her that the
boy was being offered to her to have as her son. This was rather unexpected and
Maria was, to say the least, astonished beyond disbelief. She stood there,
practically in shock, looking from the squaw to the lad and could not believe
what was transpiring. Her first impulse was to refuse,
for she had her hand
