Arizona Highways, January 1979

              ARIZON~ HIGHWAYS
JANUARY 1979 VOL. 55, NO. 1
Marvin Beck,
Director of Publications
Tom C. Cooper, Editor
Wesley Holden, Associate Edito r
Richard G . Stahl, Assistant Editor
Gary Bennett, Art Dir ector
Gayle Kitchel Kiviat, .
Associate Art Director
Shirley Mummaw,
Circulation Manager
Bruce Babbitt, Gov ernor of Arizona
Arizona
Department of
Transportation
William A. Ordway, Dir ector, and
Oscar T . Lyon, Jr., State Engineer.
Board Members: Robert M. Bracker,
Chairman, Nogales; Armand P. Ortega,
Vice Chairman, Sanders ; and Members
William " Bill" Erdmann, Casa Grande;
John 5 . Houston, Yuma; E. J . "Charlie"
McCarthy, Kingman ; Ralph A. Wat­kins,
Jr. , Wickenburg, and John W.
McLaughlin, Morenci.
In This Issue
2 When the World Comes To
Quartzsite
Once each year upwards of 700,000
people beat a path to the Quartzsite
Pow-Wow for rich bargains in rocks,
gems and crystals.
10 Ski Touring Winter's Wonderland
Seeing the snow-locked beauty of
Arizona's winter playground now is as
easy as 1-2-3-ski !
16 This Southwest Land - A scenic
Portfolio by Dick Dietrich
A special full-color photo collection of
some of the Southwest's most visual
country.
34 Secret of the Kachinas
A well-turned tale of myth and legend
set in the land of the Hopi.
38 The Inheritor
A great museum comes to vivid life
through the eyes of a young Indian
artist.
(Front cover) The warmth of an Arizona sunset
as captured by master photographer Dick
Dietrich (see artic l e page 16). Organ Pi pe
Cactus National Monument.
(Inside front cover) Chrysocolla , malachite,
cuprite, and quartz , magnificent gem-quality
minerals from Arizona ' s Bagdad copper mine,
create a visual kaleidoscope of greens and
blues with accents of red cuprite.
Jeff Kurtzeman
photo by Dianne Dietrich
From the Editors: This month' s issue features a special portfolio of nature scenes
by master Phoenix photographer Dick Dietrich whose work has been consistently
appearing in Arizona Highways for many years. What is scenic photography all
about, and how is it captured? are just a few of the questions answered in the
accompanying profile.
One of the indispensable elements of the Arizona scene is celebrating its 50th
anniversary this year: the Heard Museum, a " must see" Phoenix storehouse of
Southwestern Indian arts, crafts and culture. We proudly salute the Heard in this
issue with an entertaining and informative meld of fiction and fact by author­journalist
Pam Hait and the superb photography of Jerry Jacka. " The Inheritor"
is the story of the great museum seen through the eyes of a young Indian artist.
Can you imagine 700,000 Rockhounds invading a tiny southwest town of
1200 population on a single weekend to buy, sell and trade rocks and minerals?
That's what the Quartzsite Pow Wow is all about. Each year, in February, rock and
mineral hobbyists from all over the United States and some foreign countries get
together at this small desert outpost ... and create a colorful - albeit crowded -
extravaganza. Writer Bob Jones walked through it, researched it and lived with
it to produce this month's feature . And photographers, amazed by the scene on the
ground, even took to the air to get the complete picture.
While many of our out-of-state readers may flinch because they already have
more than enough of the cold fluffy white stuff, we felt we would be remiss if we
did not tell you about one of the newest chilly season sports to be found in
Arizona's high country winter playground. It's called cross-country skiing. Writer­photographer
Michael Spector, who just happened to live in the North Country
at the time, spent several weeks visiting and photographing (along with several
other photographers) some of the best ski areas to produce this feature.
"Secret of the Kachinas" is a curious blend of reality and fantasy from the
pen of Katherine Lancaster. The article deals with the relationship between the
spirit people and the Hopi Indians - a difficult subject made eminently readable.
Happy reading.
Richard G. Stahl
Arizona Hi g hways is published monthly by
the Arizona Department of Transportation.
Address: Arizona Highways, 2039 W. Lewis
Ave., Phoenix, AZ 850 09 . $8. 00 per year in
U.S. and possessions. $9 .00 Canada, Mexico
and P.UAS. countries, and $10.00 elsewhere;
single copies one dollar each. Second Class
Postage paid at Phoenix, Arizona, under Act
of March 3, 1879. Copyright © 1979 by the
Arizona Department of Transportation. Arizona
Allow six weeks for a ch;rnge of address. Send
in the old as well as the new address including
ZIP code. Telephone (602) 258-6641.
- · .. H ighways is printed by W. A. Krueger Co. ,
Phoen ix D ivision, Phoeni x, Arizona .
The editors will not be responsible for unso­licited
manuscripts, photographs. artwork, or
other materials sent for editorial consideration.
1
When the
World Comes To
Quartzsite
by Robert W. Jones
They're striking it rich again at Old
Quartzsite! And it has brought a "rush"
the likes of which haven't been seen
around this tiny desert town of 1200
since Pauline Weaver found gold in
nearby La Paz, in the early 1860s.
But this time it's not the bright yel­low
metal that's luring over 750,000
people out there, from every state of the
Union and overseas as well. It's the
annual Quartzsite Pow Wow, when
some 30,000 trailers and campers sur­round
the little town and up to 500
jewelry and gem dealers harangue the
keyed-up and turned-on crowd of
750,000 modern day argonauts, search­ing
for rich bargains in rocks, gems,
jewelry, and crystals.
Unlike the first Pow Wow in 1967,
which featured about 20 sellers and
only eight gem displays, today's show
has a large solid core of talented gem
and jewelry demonstr'ators and
exhibitors, such as Ray Arndt of South­ern
California and others whose dis­plays
have rivaled even those found in
major museums.
To be part of this colorful spectacle,
held annually on the first Thursday in
February, is asking for worn out shoes,
aching legs, and strained eyes. And even
with'. that you probably won't see every­thing
that's going on, even if you stay
until Sunday, when the show closes for
another year.
Just to see what's happening inside
the town's community center, the cen­tral
showplace, is a chalienge. You can
spend a day shuffling past dealers and
special displays loaded with jewelry
and polished gems. More hours can be
spent watching skilled craftsmen facet
gems, shape and polish baroque jewels
and make inlaid jewelry as well as cast
silver and gold items right on the spot.
For rockhounds it's Christmas all over
again!
Dealers make a special effort to go
all out for the Pow Wow. There are
startlingly beautiful mineral crystals
from Arizona's copper mines, Mexico's
silver mines, California's gem mines,
and a host of gem and mineral deposits
the world over. Here, too, you'll find a
variety of handcrafted wares, including
bola ties, belt buckles, pins, pendants,
necklaces, rings, natural gold nuggets,
jade carvings and even ivory scrimshaw
from Alaska.
But that's far from all the show has
to offer. There are also acres of swap
groups out on the desert, where crowds
of enthusiastic collectors barter to their
heart's content. And if that isn't enough,
you can wander through the stacks of
books on how to collect, where to col­lect,
and how to identify and work with
the semi-precious gems you find. It's
no wonder visitors keep saying, "It's
overwhelming!"
\CE
(Above) Foot-stomping country music played
by a one-man band adds a touch of hometown
flavor to the excitement of the annual
Pow Wow in Quartzsite.
Jeff Kurtzemen
(Left) A selection from Arizona's treasure
chest of fabulous minerals is set against the
s.tark contours of the Kofa Mountains in the
desert southeast of Quartzsite. They are
(clockwise from top) aurichalcite with limonite,
rosasite, hemimorphite, turquoise, wulfenite
and banded malachite/azurite. Chalcedony,
center, is from the Castle Hot Springs area.
All of these and more are purchased and
swapped by mineral collectors at the desert
Pow Wow.
Mineral photos by Jeff Kurtzemen,
background photo by David Muench
3
(Above) For one weekend each February over 700,000 citizens
and visitors from foreign countries descend on the little town of
Quartzsite on Arizona's western border. There, collectors and
lapidarians can watch craftsworkers create unique items of
jewelry; purchase gems, jewelry and machinery; or just watch
and be part of the crowd .
Jeff Kurtzeman
(Far right) Quartzsite becomes a veritable sea of vehicles
during the Pow Wow days.
Wes Holden
4
(Above) Camped on the outskirts of the milling
crowds , a group of swappers do their own
thing out on the desert.
Wes Holden
(Right) Sunset in the rugged Kofa Mountains
provides the backdrop for a brilliant display of
Arizona minerals. At left: turquoise, chrysocolla,
azurite and malachite. Center: picture jasper.
At right : Arizona plume and yellow carnotite in
palm wood .
Background photo by David Muench,
mineral photos by Jeff Kurtzeman
6
Quartzsite continued
Dealers themselves find it an extraor­dinary
place to be. Martin Koning, of
Morristown, Arizona, still talks about
the time his grandson sold over $500
worth of small ten and fifteen cent
polished gem stones in one weekend .
And Alaska dealer Don Orcutt, who
features superb jade and gold nugget
jewelry he makes himself, claims he
never has enough of the good things.
"They go so fast! People stand in line
with the cash in their hands. You can't
miss making money!"
Inlay jewelry artist Jerry Cline is
another Pow Wow supporter. "It's the
wildest thing I've ever seen. You can
sell anything there and buy anything
there!"
When it all began back in 1967, in a
small room of the local schoolhouse,
no one dreamed the Pow Wow would
develop beyond a local event. But today
visitors from every state in the Union
find themselves rubbing elbows and
sharing sore feet with visitors and buy­ers
from Japan, Switzerland, Canada,
France, and Germany. Like Gerhard
Becker, whose family has run a lapidary
business in Idar-Oberstein for genera­tions,
many foreign buyers now make
the Pow Wow one of the important
stops on their yearly buying trips.
There's no one reason for the growth
of the Pow Wow. Certainly the ame­nable
winter weather and gorgeous des­ert
scenery are a part of it. But the Pow
Wow has became an old fashioned mar­ketplace
and people now purposely
return each year to relax in the desert
and renew old friendships. Swapping
stories and trading their wares, travelers
from all over the country come and take
advantage of the friendly atmosphere
nourished by a very hard working
Quartzsite Improvement Association,
sponsors of the show.
But all this growth has its problems
too. There's sanitation for one, and food
service, and overcrowded desert camp­grounds.
The crowds that are always in
and about and underfoot, in the Com­munity
Center, in the swap areas, on
the highways, and in the desert, are
constantly seeking whatever clear space
can be found.
To help solve the sanitation problem,
the Bureau of Land Management has
designated special areas for trailer hold­ing
tanks. And as you drive through
town during the show portable toilets
line the streets like so many fire
hydrants. The BLM has also reserved a
special 40-acre section for campers, and
minor medical emergencies can be easily
taken care of in a new facility recently
built partly with receipts from the Pow
Wow.
Remarkably, the whole rambling
affair is orderly and under control. A
minimum of police effort produces a
maximum of regulation. People sense
their interdependence in the desert and
that's what makes it work.
Should a trailer break down or an
auto mis-function there is always some­one
who shows up willing to lend a
helping hand. And this holds true for
major problems as well. When the local
cafe burned down, and there wasn't
going to be enough food for the thou­sands
of people who were attending the
show, nearly everybody in the commu­nity
volunteered to help. They stayed
up all one night making 25,000 sand­wiches!
Like pioneers of old, the people of
Quartzsite have shown a strong initia­tive
and have developed an indepen­dence
based on a self-help philosophy.
Recognizing they were their own best
Quartzsite continued
resource to get what any small commu­nity
needs, the people of the community
formed the Quartzsite Improvement
Association to improve their lot.
Through cooperative effort and self­reliance
these people have proven the
wisdom of their self-help philosophy, a
major tenet of the pioneer spirit.
And the results have been worth it.
With the aid of community activities
and suppor ted by Pow Wow receipts
they have a new community center,
used for the show and throughout the
year for a number of functions. The
center stands on land generous l y
donated by someone who supported the
Q .I.A. They also have a new medical
clinic, partly as a result of the Show. It
aids travelers, accident victims and resi­dents
all year long in addition to provid­ing
first aid to show visitors. There's
also a new fire truck and new water
tank, extra land for expanding the Pow
Wow, and cable TV, which brings the
world to Quartzsite - even when there
isn't a Pow Wow.
Irt the 10 years since that first Pow
Wow, the show has grown from a casual
desert gathering to a full-scale interna­tional
marketplace. Much of the old and
familiar is lost perhaps, but that's
expected and, if possible, provided for.
On the plus side it has pumped life into
an old community that had seen better
days and it has brought the world to
Quartzsite for one fantastic weekend
each year. It also gives residents and
visitors something to remember, to talk
about and to look forward to next year.
Did any real gold rush ever accomplish
half as much? n
Editor's note: If you get a hankering to
become an argonaut to the next Pow
Wow, just mark off the first Thursday
in February and get out your walking
shoes. For five days you will be
immersed in a desert happening! For
details, write Show Chairman, Quartz­site
Improvement Association, Box 881,
Quartzsite, Arizona 85346.
(Left) To the south of Quartzsite the great
desert extends to the horizon, populated by
starkly beautiful mountain ranges, homes of
the jackrabbit, the hawk and the saguaro.
Wes Holden
(Above) Countless displays of
equipment for polishing, grind­ing
and cutting rocks and
minerals mesmerize the con­firmed
lapidaries at the
Quartzsite Pow Wow.
Jeff Kurtzeman
(Left) Even the best of hucksters
needs to rest sometime.
Jeff Kurtzeman
9
Ski Touring
Winters Wonderland
by M ichae\ Spector
v\looooooooooooooosh!
The sound of the man's skis glidi'.lg
across the crust of freshly fallen snow
broke the early morning stillness. The
cold, crisp, pine-scented air tingling his
face was a pleasant contrast to the
warmth of the fireplace he had just left
behind, and the problems of the city
were so far away now it was as if they
never existed.
At the top of the hill he rested
momentarily, then, as the sun rose
above the horizon, he watched as the
misty, winter wonderland stretching in
every direction became a crystalline
fairyland of sparkling beauty. A light
wind whispered through the tall pines
as he began his first carefree descent of
the day ....
Sound like a modern-day adventurer
somewhere in the romantic Swiss Alps?
It's not. The setting is anywhere in
northern Arizona where there is snow
on the ground, and the person could be
almost anyone adventuresome enough
to put on a pair of cross-country skis
and go out wandering.
Cross-country (it's also called ski
touring or Nordic skiing) is exactly
what the name implies, touring the
countryside on skis. Unlike the fast,
flashy world of downhill (alpine) ski­ing,
with its manicured slopes and
color-coordinated outfits, cross-country
skiing is an easy, mellow experience,
bound only by your own imagination
and desire to explore the winter coun­try.
(Left) Gliding over a snow- locked landscape, a cross-country
skier hunts up scenic adventures near Flagstaff.
Michael Spector
Cross-country skis are designed for
long, smooth strides across the snow
and almost any type of clothing is
appropriate, preferably a favorite pair
of jeans and a sweater. Also, as the ski
bottoms are made to "bite" as well as
glide across the snow, skiing - even up
steep hills - is as easy as walking, mak­ing
almost any terrain a possibility.
There are no rules in cross-country
skiing, once the fundamentals are mas­tered
(which takes about a half day) ,
it's anything that appeals to you. If it's
speed you like, there are the hills and
canyons with long, vertical free-falls,
where adrenalin-sharpened senses seem
to put everything in slow motion as you
whiz down, testing skill and ability to
the absolute limit. Or if you're just out
11
/
-
Ski Touring continued
to enjoy winter's frozen festivities,
there's the casual pace of the flat mea­dows,
where you can stop and watch a
golden snowflake pirouette backlit by
a late afternoon sun or smell the sweet
aroma of ponderosa pine drifting lazily
from a nearby chimney.
It all began quite by accident, so the
story goes, one cold winter morning in
the year 2022 B.c., or thereabouts, when
two boys went out searching for wood
in an area just north of what we today
call Sweden. It had been an unusually
cold winter and the family's supply was
very low, so they worked slowly and
carefully so as not to miss a single twig.
Suddenly they saw a large oak tree
which had fallen during a recent storm
and been split by lightning in several
places. There were many long, flat
(Left) New snow beckon s to skiers in the
high country. Chuck Abbott
pieces that could be broken off so they
gathered as much as they could handle.
Later, heading home Indian file along
a particularly steep ridge the first boy
tripped and tumbled head first over the
edge, landing with a jolt on a large
piece of the wood he had been carrying
and then sliding to the bottom of the
ridge. Intrigued his brother soon fol­lowed
after in the same fashion. They
spent the rest of the day with their new
toys, and on arriving home insisted
their father come out and see the new
discovery. "Fantastic!" the old man
thought, as he watched them careen
down the slopes.
That night, as everyone lay sleeping,
the father couldn't get the day's event
off his mind. Then he got up and got
out his tools. By morning he had
reshaped each boy's piece of wood so
they were almost identical, and had
lashed one to each of his boots.
Cross-country skiing was born! And
today it is a favorite recreational sport
with hard-core ski buffs in the United
States, and it recently has come into
its own as a fun activity to be enjoyed
by all. The two major reasons respon­sible
for this change are the introduc­tion
of the waxless ski, and the type of
freedom afforded by cross-country as
opposed to downhill skiing.
Until fairly recently cross-country
skis were made mostly of wood. In
order to get a proper "bite" on the snow
a wax had to be applied to the bottom
of the ski. This would not be so diffi­cult
except for the fact that only certain
types of wax work with certain types
of snow. And in northern Arizona,
where snow conditions change several
times throughout the day, several
changes of wax would be necessary.
A few years ago a solution to this
problem appeared on the market in the
13
Ski Touring continued
form of a waxless ski. Made of fiber­glass
rather than wood, it had a fish­scale
design on the bottom and per­formed
in any and all snow conditions.
At first, wax ski buffs were skeptical
but , in 1976, when Vermont's Billy
Koch took a pair of the new skis and
proceeded to win a Silver Medal in the
Olympic 30 kilometer race at Seefeld,
Austria, the skis also won international
acceptance.
The other reasort for cross-country
skiing's new found popularity is good
old freedom . Most people turn to skiing
as a recreational activity to escape the
hassles and pressures they must con­tend
with Monday through Friday .
They want to get out in the country,
breath the fresh air, and relax the week­end
away.
But with downhill skiing, by the time
you get done taking care of things like
equipment rental, lift tickets, and lift
lines, you've already spent a good part
of the weekend standing and waiting in
crowded places. In comparison, cross­country
skiing isn't tied to any set of
hills or slopes, but can be done any­where
there is snow. There are no
14
tickets to buy, and no long lines. You
just get out and go.
Good news, too , is that you can par­ticipate
in this rapidly growing sport
at almost bargain-basement prices.
About $100 will completely outfit an
adult with skis, bindings, boots and
pole s. And it's half that for children.
In northern Arizona there are two
areas where cross-country skiing is an
organized activity, Mormon Lake and
the Arizona Snow Bowl. The Snow
Bowl, located just north of Flagstaff on
U.S. Highway 180, has a three kilo­meter
cross-country course with many
fast sections of trail that wind around
the San Francisco Peaks right above
Hart Prairie. The Snow Bowl also is ·
the site of the two organized cross­country
competitions each year: the
Arizona Cup in February and the March
Cup during the third month of the year.
Lessons and ski rentals are available
from the lodge. There is no trail charge .
Mormon Lake, about 30 miles south­east
of Flagstaff, on Lake Mary Road,
has SO miles of designated ski trail loops
with names like Mad Man's Mountain
and Maniac's Delight which also gives
you somewhat of a hint as to what kind
of terrain to expect. Lessons, rentals,
and g uided tours are available from the
Mormon Lake Ski Center. Cabin rentals
are also offered, with ski trails begin­ning
right at their front doors!
Other cross-country ski locations in
Arizona are Sunrise, on the White
Mountain Apache Reservation in the
White Mountains, and Jacob Lake, on
State Highway 67, north of the Grand
Canyon. Both have good frails but noth­ing
definitely organized for cross-coun­try
ski enthusiasts. There also is the
North Rim area of the Grand Canyon.
However, this is rough, primitive coun­try
and used mostly by expert skiers.
But whether you are a qualified
expert or just a wet-behind-the-ears
novice really matters very little in this
sport.
What counts is a basic desire on your
part to be one with the great outdoors
- especially the snow-locked beauty of
Arizona's winter playground, where,
during the season which stretches from
October to March, your only ski-tour­ing
restrictions will be the limits of
your imagination. n
(Above) Skiers find climbing the 12,340 - foot
heights of Mt. Agassiz easier afoot. Agassiz is
one of the three peaks comprising the
San Francisco Mountains north of Flag staff .
(Right) Skimming Doyle Saddle, connecting
Agassiz and Fremont peaks in the San
Francisco range, with waxless cross-country
skies that take a variety of snow conditions
in stride.
(Below) White badge of courage. A frost­rimmed
mountain ski-tourist pauses in fl ig ht.
Photos by Michael Collier
15
By Pam Hait
This Scenic Land­A
Color Portfolio by
It was that tenuous time before dawn. The skies were inked with night.
The sands lay undisturbed, and the canyons were quiet with the hush that comes
with that final hour of sleep. Soon the sun would announce that business must begin.
The monoliths of Monument Valley, barely visible in the dark, stood as
silent sentinels. In front of them a tall man bent over a tripod, adjusting the legs
and checking the locks. Satisfied that the base was secure, he turned his attention
to the big, black, boxy camera that rested on the tripod's crown. Peering through
the camera's eye he traded his view for that of his alter ego - the 8x10 camera.
Working quickly he changed the aim of the equipment slightly, repositioning
himself and meticulously checking his location.
His sleeping bag was already cooled, the last vestiges of his night's sleep
smoothed away by the pre-dawn chill that clings to the air. He had camped there
that previous day after carefully considering how and where the sun would rise.
He knew that time would not allow him any error. If he missed that special place
where the first fingers of the sunrise would caress the rocky promontories of
Monument Valley, he'd be too late to try again that day. He had carried his
cameras - an 8x10, a Sx7, a 4x5, and assorted photographic paraphernalia - down
these trails many times before. He knew his way around this sandy floor.
(Right) Study in light and shadow, the Grand Canyon.
16
Ask him why he lugs that heavy, Bulky 8xl0 - the camera and
tripod weigh over 50 pounds - and he smiles, "It's a kick to look
through it." He grins, "You get to see a big image." (The image size
of an 8xl0 is approximately 50 times larger than a 35mm.) His voice
carries the distinctive, flat "A" sound of the native New Englander.
"You can do the same thing with a 35mm," he counters quickly. "I
don't want people to think that you have to invest in this large
equipment. A smaller camera format allows you a greater range of
optics. For instance with a 4 x 5 camera, a moderate bellows draw
will accommodate a long focal length lens. But with an 8 x 10, you'd
need a camera four to five feet long with a huge piece of glass to
get the same perspective." The New England reserve melts when he
speaks about his favorite topic.
18
(Below) Sudden storm in Navajoland.
(Ri ght) Chaco Canyon ruin s, New Mexico.
He bends over his photographic eG}uipment once more checking
the view. He straightens up, a long, unwinding process, to his full,
lean height that stretches toward 6' 4". In the predawn light his
white hair gleams and the black, rectangular frames of his glasses
are barely discernible against his pale complexion. He glances at his
watch, then at the sky, and seems pleased. At ease, he waits. He's
accustomed to waiting and he knows that he has done his part. Now
the rest is up to the sun and wind and sand and shadows.
Dick Dietrich has no misgivings about his nocturnal habits.
"When the sun comes up at dawn, you get marvelous texture
and warmth," he explains. "When the sun is right on the horizon
the shadows are deep and the colors red. But as it rises higher in the
sky, you lose the red and get more blue," he finished describing the
(Following panel pgs. 20-21) The desert in
summer, Saguaro National Monument.
19
(Below) Winter comes to Oak Cr; e(;k Canyon.
(Below) Fresh Spring, fantasy. (Following panel, pgs. 24-25) Adrift on Huckleberry Hot Springs, Grand Tetons, Utah.
22 23
26
sensations of color that a good photographer must feel. While
Dietrich freely admits that the monoliths of Monument Valley
inspire him with a sense of awe, he finds joy wherever he carries his
camera. And he's been seen, slightly stooped over, wrestling his
bulky boxes up and down the spidery trails in Bryce Canyon
National Park, in Utah, the Grand Canyon, New England, and
nearly any ruggedly remote scenic location.
Essentially a modest man, Dietrich sums up his dedication
succinctly. "If you don't enjoy what you are doing, it would be
deadly. The fact that you are working early and late means that you
need to be enthralled with what is happening. Actually," he
shrugged a bit, "it seems like sort of a shame to accept money for
this." (Below) Vulcan's Throne, northwest Arizona.
He admits to having a real photographic memory. "I remember
when I shot each picture - what time of day it was, where I stood
to shoot it. That way when you come back to a location you have
less wasted motion. You know that when you go back you become
more familiar with an area and do better work. The position of the
sun in the sky makes a difference and summer to winter changes are
important." His eyes light up and he transports himself in a
marvelous memory. "You know, there's a spot in Utah where in
February I know the sun will be positioned just right to give the
scene the correct lighting to transform it from an ordinary picture
into something very special."
Photography is more than his avocation. While his understated
demeanor dominates, when he speaks of photography he waxes
(Below) Remnants of a summer storm, Zion
National Park.
27
( Below) Mo rn in g ligh t, M on um ent Valley.
(Following panel, pgs. 30-31) T he gold of au tumn, Canyon de Ch el/y.
almost lyrical. Not surprisingly he relates that he. started college as
an English major. But he wound up with an Education degree - all
financed through his photography. "My mother, who is 83, is still in
Maine," he adds, explaining that he came from Maine to Williams
Air Force Base in 1947 and settled permanently in Phoenix in 1950.
Originally, photography was his hobby. Ultimately photog­raphy
took over his heart as well as his mind. He describes his own
reactions to his craft. "Occasionally you will come on something that
you know will be great. I can always tell because my heart
beats faster."
Yet the limitation of the lens cannot be ignored. Dietrich warns,
"You must always remember how a scene will reproduce photo­graphically.
You see, you are taking a three-dimensional object and
reducing it to two dimensions. He looks up and flashes a quick grin.
"I've made all the mistakes in the book at least two or three times,
I'm sure, but then if I were perfect there wouldn't be any challenge,
would there?"
Dick Dietrich stretches a bit and continues. "You come upon
a scene and you know it could have possibilities. But things are
not in the right position. A painter could move things to fit the
composition. But a photographer must position himself. This
involves a lot of trudging around. Sometimes," he shakes his head at
memories of moments lost, "you can get things to work and some­times
you cannot put it together. So you have to walk away from it.
But then you keep coming back."
The photographer gazes around the room then says in a
philosophical tone, "Perhaps one of these days when I can't lug a big
camera around, I might try painting."
And if he had it to do over? He replies without hesitation, "I'd
go to a good art school and learn about color and texture and
composition and the like. My own experience is self-taught. Going
to art school could have speeded up the learning process immensely."
A self-taught pupil, Dietrich remains the demanding instructor.
"As time goes on you get more critical of what is good and what is
merely acceptable. You are always looking for something new that
you haven't seen before." He leafs through stacks of photos covering
his dining room table and selects some of his favorites. Gazing at
some pictures taken in Monument Valley he says softly, "At night
when you are under the monoliths and look up at the stars ... it
makes you feel insignificant. A place like that is so quiet, so awe­some
.... " He stares at the photograph where the muted shades of
the sand and rock are carefully orchestrated as if he had directed the
blend of dawn and shadow and the degree of coral in the sunrise,
and points to a tiny row of tracks on the sand. "That's what I like
about this picture," he says. "That line of tracks against the
expanse of sand."
His photographs are difficult to categorize. The breadth of his
subject is captured in his big lens, and when an 8xl0 photograph
is printed, it loses none of the detail that photographers strive to
hold onto in film. Indeed, when a Dietrich photo taken through his
big camera is magnified, hidden treasures come up into view. An
insect trapped inside a bloom, a line of nearly indiscernible animal
tracks, the undulating pattern of a distant sand dune - these appear
29
and take on a new dimension, lifting his photographs from the
scenic to the see-ing.
He describes his choice of camera equipment easily. "The big
transparency is more marketable. An editor can see immediately
what he's getting."
But composing within such a framework is an art that Dietrich
continually perfects. His subject matter covers the spectrum and
lends itself to everything from calendars to framed artwork. "If I
had my druthers, I'd photograph only what turns me on," he
maintains. "And I'd probably do just as well."
Free time is usually taken up with work. He admits, "I'd rather
be doing photography than strictly sightseeing. Somehow I get more
out of seeing scenes when I am photographing them. Then I find
small things - the texture and colors of a leaf by itself, or a blossom.
To me this is getting down to the basic things. Frankly, if I weren't
photographing, I would be painting or composing a poem," he
concluded without any inhibitions.
At 51, Dick Dietrich can look at his portfolio with pride. A
portrait artist, scenic photographer, architectural illustrator, and
commercial photographer, there is little his lens hasn't considered.
Commenting on his versatility Dietrich says with characteristic
modesty, "The trouble with me is that I do too many things for fun.
Faces, especially, I find fascinating." But he cautioned that if he goes
in too many directions at once he won't make the best use of his time.
Obviously the good times are catching. His wife says she
carries a small camera on their trips although she leans more toward
snapshots. His oldest daughter, Dianne, is aspiring to her father's
trade. But so far Nancy, the younger, shows no such leanings. Still,
Dietrich laughs, family vacations generally are photographic
expeditions.
He prefers the scenics, explaining that more people can easily
enjoy this type of picture. But he notes that injecting a person into a
scene can add scale. For his own purposes, he'll add color as well by
turning his canoe around for a lake or river scene. "I painted one
side of the canoe yellow and the other red," he explains. "This
confounded some artists who were on: a painting vacation on the
Snake River. They'd be painting the scene and suddenly that yellow
canoe would be red!"
Reflecting on his chosen profession, Dietrich says, "I feel that
photography is a definite art form. I'm rather critical of paintings
and photographs and I see many that I don't feel are worthy. He sat
forward and continued seriously, "A fine photograph must ring an
emotional response. You can get this from a fine painting as well.
My criteria is emotional - my own as well as other people's
emotions. Occasionally a photograph will grip ... and maybe it is
better that this only happens infrequently. Otherwise this, too,
might become too mundane.
"A good photograph," he concludes, "is simple in the first
place and it has to have good composition. One of the biggest faults
in many photographs is that they are too busy . .. to much is
happening." He sat back and considered his words.
What about his own plans? Dick Dietrich smiles. "I'm always
searching for that zinger." n
(Left) Nature pattern in summer hailstones.
33
T umalo hoped today would prove
better hunting . His legs were
strong to carry him in wide arcs
from the village, like ever-widening rip­ples
in a pool, and his eyes had learned
to see what most could not; still, it was
a hard thing to chase down the little
game that lived in this arid land his
people had chosen.
The sun was high and hot over
Tumalo's head when he finally paused
to rest. He lay on his side in the shade
of a pungent bush, enjoying the smell
of the earth and the fragrant freshness
as he crushed the gray sage between
his thumb and forefinger. On the
ground at the edge of his vision, a
shadow passed across the brittle glare.
Tumalo jerked his eyes skyward to
catch the shadow's maker ... an eagle,
another hunter, gliding on the wind. A
good sign. The winged warriors had
taught the Hopi many mysteries and
helped him escape the Underworld to
find a place of peace. It was good to
pay attention.
Watching to see where the eagle
might circle, hunting advice he sorely
needed at the moment, Tumalo fol­lowed
the hunter toward a deep green
clump of trees. Tumalo paused for a
moment at the sight of the trees, think­ing
surely he must have run farther
than he thought. He had never seen this
place before.
Now cautiously he approached .. .
stilling the tread of his feet so that even
the earth would scarcely know he
walked upon it. The eagle had settled
on a high limb ahead of him in a green
sanctuary wild with early spring
blooms. The sun peeked through the
overhanging greenery in a circle of
golden light, and Tumalo moved toward
it, thinking the sunshine might quiet the
tremors playing at his uneasy heart.
He was within a footfall of the fat log
in the center of the light when he froze
in his tracks ... the shimmering before
his eyes was not all sunshine. A being,
part mist part man, idled there, his back
to the log and his face uplifted to the
sun, a heavy mask propped beside him
on the ground.
Tumalo unwittingly gasped, and the
being swooped the mask from the
ground as he turned to face the intruder
in his resting place. The being hesitated
a breath in the realization that this
saucer-eyed youth standing frozen
before him had seen what none other
ever had, then lowered the mask over
his face. "Your tread is softer than the
falling leaves, and I have bared my face
to your eyes." Knowing that he had
been caught unawares, and wanting no
other to know the secrets of the rain,
he promised T umalo food and gifts for
his people if he would keep silent.
Tumalo could not have betrayed the
being if he' d wanted to ... there were
no words to describe the vision.
Every year thereafter, as had been
promised, the high respected beings,
the Kachinas, as they were called,
visited the Hopi villages high on the
mesas to bring them the bounties of the
A Fable by Katherine Lancaster
Kachinas are supernatural beings, or spir it s,
rep resent ing different aspects, forces, or
creatures in and of nature. The Hopi Ind ians
of northern Arizona believe the home of the
Kachinas to be San Francisco Peaks, which
they hold sacred.
' ... the youth had seen what
none other ever had.'
Background photo Josef Muench,
Kachina photo Jerry Jacka
earth. They also taught the people
many things ... the power and wisdom
of all living things, of rocks, plants,
insects, animals, stars, clouds, the join­ing
with the cloud people beyond death,
and more.
Until one sad day. Tumalo was there.
The feasting and dancing had been
especially merry thi s day since the
Kachinas arrived with their gifts. As
the evening wore on the confusion of
dancers and celebrants grew out of con­trol.
By mischance, one of the Kachinas
was killed. Angered at the people they
had opened their arms and hearts to ,
the Kachinas withdrew in anger.
The cloud people came no more to
the villages, or walked the land on
lightning bolts or dark towering legs
of rain. And the forsaken Hopi suffered
drought and famine; and more, a hollow
loneliness ached where the Kachinas
had been in their spirits. The Hopi were
in bitter straits in every way ... their
hunting skills had grown lax, because
there had been no urgent need to hunt,
and they didn't know how to grow the
food the kind beings had lavished on
them.
Except Tumalo. His hunter's eyes had
not dimmed with the passage of the
years. He had learned much from the
Kachinas. He had watched them bring
the rain to nourish tall green stalks
crowned with golden corn from single
kernels and fat, sweet peaches from a
stony seed. He had seen the dances and
heard the measured murmurs of the
35
chants to entice the earth to yield up a
bountiful harvest.
As the summer sun waxed hot the
first season after he met the shimmering
being in the woods, he remembered
grieving at the thought of the spirit
returning to his home atop the cloud­ringed
peaks to the southwest. He
understood that all things must have a
season of rest, however brief. Tumalo
knew, because he believed the words of
his cloud brother, that the Kachinas
would return after the autumn harvest,
after the war gods had spread a snowy
blanket over the land to give the earth
time for shedding and slumber, to make
ready for the new season of children,
the tiny tendrils of green that reached
for the sun.
Later, at the time of the false spring,
before winter finally shed its frosty
cloak, the Kachinas would herald the
time of growing things by appearing
before the people bearing the young
green sprouts of the bean, to prove that
another har vest lay ahead. Other
dances all during the planting and
growing season kept the Kachinas
always busy and the people of the mesa
always happy and in harmony with the
world.
Tumalo enjoyed this season and was
always sorry to see the Kachinas retire
as the summer days lengthened and it
was time to return to the sacred moun­tains.
The Going Home Time, the
Niman, when the first harvest of corn
was brought to the villages, was the
last he would hear their council until
mid-December's awakening.
Now the Kachinas would not come
again and Tumalo knew the Hopi must
find their own way. He sat silently as
the elders counciled on what must be
done.
Tumalo finally rose and said quietly
but firmly, "We must learn to be like
the Kachinas, to do as they would and
talk to the earth with seed and talk to
the clouds for rain." The elders laughed
bitterly. "And so you think you can
coax the earth to give us food as the
Kachinas did. I think you will find your­self
eating sand come spring."
Tumalo left the gathering, his head
bowed in sadness that the elders could
not see what he saw. Tumalo had
scoured the village and found dried ker­nels
of corn, a bean and the stony seed
of the peach in the ash at the base of a
cooking pit and in the rubble mound.
He took these in a pouch down to the
valley below and in a hollow sheltered
from the wind planted them, using the
last drops from his water gourd to
nourish them. With a final blessing on
the seeds, Tumalo set off for the sacred
mountains, the cloud-rimmed peaks to
the southwest he had seen in dreams.
The journey was long and lonely,
and T umalo sometimes wondered if he
would find the mountain home of the
Kachinas at all. Then, one dawn, he
spotted an eagle gliding on the wind
toward the south, swooping back
toward him every so often as though
beckoning him. And Tumalo followed .
He walked all through the day and into
the night, and with the first streaks of
light across the eastern sky, Tumalo
realized he was at the feet of the sacred
mountains and now he must climb to
the misty reaches to find the Kachinas.
The slopes were slick with tumbling
rock and thick stands of trees, and he
was scratched and bloody before the
sun was high in the sky. As he climbed,
the forest grew thicker and darker, and
Tumalo heard the voices of the Kachina
on the wind whistling through the trees.
Out of the dim reaches, masked ogres
taunted him and jabbed at him and
bumbling clowns mimicked his plight
and rolled on the ground howling with
laughter. Undaunted, though not
. unafraid, Tumalo kept on going, some­times
on his hands and knees. When the
sun left the sky to light the Underworld,
Tumalo collapsed on the ground in
weariness, though the cold of the moun­tain
and the taunts of the ogres kept
him from sleep.
With the return of the sun, Tumalo's
flag ging s pirit was buoyed and he
began the climb anew, his faith in the
kindness of the Kachinas undaunted.
After three suns on the mountain,
with little besides faith to sustain him,
Tumalo lay at the base of a towering
pine and slept, too weary to go on.
When he awoke, the Kachina he had
seen so many seasons before amid the
wildflowers was beside him, silently
keeping watch.
"You have come a long way and
endured much pain to speak for your
people. I will do what I can."
Tumalo was asked to wait while the
Kachina petitioned his kin for mercy
on the Hopi. He would return with the
next sunrise. But, the sunrise came and
went and the dusk was growing before
he stood before Tumalo again. "My
brothers were very angry, and it was
long before they could be moved to
favor the Hopi again. Their words are
this : they will never come again as they
once did, but the people may make the
masks of the Kachinas and impersonate
them to call on the rain . If they are per­formed
truly and in good faith, they
will send their bounty once more. The
village elders would be shown in dreams
the making of the proper mask and
decorations for the body to call upon
certain Kachina messengers, and 'when
this is done properly and humbly and
well, we will send a sign to begin the
season of the Kachinas.'"
Tumalo went away with a glad heart,
hurrying to his village to tell the elders
that the Kachinas had relented and that
they must meditate on what they were
to do. With gratitude and humility, the
men of the villages used their greatest
art in devising garb and masks of the
spirit beings, praying as they went that
the Kachinas should know their respect.
Tumalo was glad to see the prepara­tion,
but also disturbed. No vision had
come to him on the mask he should
make. The summer passed and the chill
of autumn was in the air and still
Tumalo had been given no dream. He
walked and meditated; he sat by the
evening fire searching the stars for an
answer. But there was no answer.
The masks had long been finished
and rested idle in the kiva, awaiting the
sign that the Kachina spirits would
come from the Underworld to guide
their footsteps in the dances to call the
rain. Winter had come and still Tumalo
waited.
One evening, while sitting alone in
the dusk in the hollow where he had
planted the seeds before he journeyed
to the mountain, Tumalo saw a faint
light play over the sage at the far edge
of the hollow. Walking in the direction
of the light, he saw beneath the bush
a worn hunting shirt, four long
feathered sticks and a sparely decorated
white mask. And in his mind, he saw
the message of the Kachinas.
Now he knew what he had to do.
Wearing the great drowsiness of long
sleep like a cloak, Tumalo tottered to
the village with the halting gait of old
age. Singing an ancient and sacred song
and doing a creaking dance, the mes­senger
of the Soyal (Solstice) visited the
kiva - going almost unnoticed by the
villagers - placing pahos, the prayer
feathers, and sprinkling cornmeal to
open the way for other Kachinas to
return to the village from the spirit
world. When this was done according
to his vision, the Soya! Kachina made
his uncertain way back out of the vil­lage
and disappeared.
There was great joy when the village
elders saw the pahos and the cornmeal,
and they knew now that they could
dance the Soya! to bring the snows and
moisture and that other Kachinas would
appear to teach them the ways of
planting.
In the valley below, Tumalo looked
at his place of planting and smiled,
knowing the Kachinas had already
blessed his planting ... and that soon,
when the false spring came, so would
Eototo, father of Kachinas, to teach all
the dances and the rituals of their
brothers the clouds. And the land would
bloom for all the people. n
Arti st Anthony Sanchez spent four years
creating these Kachina fi gurines. Left to right
they are the Ogre, Sun, Eagle, and Salako
Kachinas . The solid sterling silver castings
range in size from 1 Oto 12 inches and are
adorn ed with turquo ise, coral, malachite, jet,
mother of pearl , ivory, pipestone, and shell
inlay as well as 14k gold trimming and
accessories.
Courtesy Lavena Ohl Gallery
The Inheritor
He stood in the courtyard, his black
hair contrasting against the white of
the museum walls. Hands thrust deep
into the pockets of his Levis, his
sneakers scuffling at the brick of the
courtyard floor, he appeared more
interested in watching an ant climb out
of a crevice than in listening to the tour
leader talk.
But years later he recalled that the
tour had been the highpoint of his third­grade
year and a turning point in his
life. While some of his clas smates had
flocked to the stuffed animals that illus­trated
the environmental exhibits, he
had been drawn to the baskets, jewelry,
rugs, and paintings. Most of all he
knew, instinctively, that he would come
back.
"We are in the courtyard and you'll
notice that this building is done in the
Spanish Colonial hacienda style," the
lady recited, gesturing toward the bal­cony
and the red tile roof. "This looks
like a home although it was built origi­nally
for this museum. The Heards came
to the Arizona Territory in 1895, when
Dwight B. Heard had to leave Chicago
for health reasons. They quickly became
avid collectors of Indian artifacts and
they also collected art and art objects
from places as far away as Alaska, the
islands of the Pacific, the Nile, and the
pre-Columbian sites of Mexico."
38
by Pam Hait
She scanned the cluster of third
graders picking out the one Indian boy
leaning against the wall. She detected
the stirrings of restlessness and con­tinued
quickly, "The Heards were
superb collectors. But what do you sup­pose
happened after awhile? Have you
ever collected anything - baseball cards
or stamps or marbles - and run out of
room?" The children buzzed happily
whispering about their own caches of
treasure.
"After a bit, the Heard' s collection
outgrew their home. They used to live
over there ." She pointed toward the tall
apartment building at Monte Vista and
Central. "When the collection became
so large that they couldn't house it,
they donated this land and this build­ing
for a museum. The Heard Museum
opened June 18, 1929." She paused to
let the children digest the information.
"Unfortunately Mr. Heard died before
this building was finished, but for 23
more years his wife continued working
closely with the Heard to make it a
living memorial to their dream."
She decided to skip the next section
of her speech, realizing that the children
would enjoy the treasures of the
museum more than hearing about Maie
Bartlett Heard' s efforts and those of
the many prominent Phoenix area peo­ple
who, through the years, succeeded
in making this small museum one of
the top anthropology and ethnic art
museums specializing in the American
Indian.
The class filed into a room. He
remembered that he had hung back,
giving the courtyard a final glance, tak­ing
in the mature citrus tree, the shady
porticos, and the mano and matata filled
with corn kernels . At the time, he
recalled vividly, he had not understood
his feelings, but somehow the building
seemed comfortable to him. He felt he
belonged there. After school he would
ask his grandmother about this.
Catching up with his class he heard
the docent already talking abou t Ari­zona's
different environments and how
the ancient Indians adapted to them.
Hohokams had dug canals to irrigate
their crops, she explained. He remem­bered
listening intently as she described
the Mogollon Rim area and Apache life .
The other children had crowded around
the display case intrigued by the ancient
rabbit stick and snowshoes. But he had
stood quietly soaking up the beauty of
this place.
(Ri g ht ) Ind ia n tre asur es fr o m th e pas t and
prese nt are prese rve d in t he Hea rd Mu se um,
t his year cele bratin g it s 50th anni ve rsary .
Jerry Jacka
Wandering into the rooms dedi cated
to the Pueblo world the class had
" ooohh'd" over the dazzling display of
Kachina dolls. The lady had told them,
"These dolls are the gift of Barry Gold­water
and the Kachinas are extremely
important to the Hopi Indians . Since
men cannot control their environment,
the Hopis pray to the spiri ts to bring
rain for their crops. The s e dolls are
made as teaching tools to enable the
Hopi children to learn about the many
Kachina spirits that the Hopis pray to. "
Ev en now, years later, he remem­bered
how the other children had
looked at him then. Being an Indian,
the y had discovered, was neat. He was
alwa ys grateful to that docent for not
qui zzing him about the Hopi Kachinas .
II
' '
l'.ff, ~ I ' '"
She must have taken in his angular
face, h is straight long nose, and recog­ni
zed his classic Navajo features. His
knowledge of the Hopi religion was
limited. But when they got to the
Navajo textile e xhibit the docent had
asked him if any one in his family did
weavin g. He h ad proudly replied that
h is grandmother and his aunts wove
beautiful rugs and had won many
prizes .
He w a s charmed with the ups tairs
rooms that illustrated pre-histor y ,
impressed by the ways that people had
lived so many thousands of years ago .
When he learned that Bruce Tomechi,
an Indian, had painted the mural depict­ing
early Indian life, he felt a thr ill of
pride.
\
When the 75 minute tour was over
and the class filed back into the school
bus, he had been sorry. It wasn't just
the scen t of the orange blossoms per­meating
the air, or the beautiful pictures
hanging on the walls, it was the strong
sense of self that he had felt at the
museum. But at eight years he never
could have identified these new emo­tions.
That spring his family had come to
the annual Heard Museum Guild Indian
Fai'r. When Judge Wilson, a former
tribal judge, announced, "Welcome to
our Heard Museum Indian Fair," he had
experienced a rush of warmth. He had
seen the groups of Zuni and Navajo,
Apache and Sioux, Hopi and Central
Plains Indian boy s and men practicing
(Above, left ) Because of a Jack of spac e many
of th e Mu se um' s pri ce less pieces must
re ma in in p rotect ive sto rag e .
(Above) An afte rn oo n tou r of th e Mus eum
e nc hants a 6th grade class .
(Far left) Indian baske try shown with illustra­tio
ns of how they we re u·se d is one among
many si milar di spl ays in th e Museum which
hel p bring to life th e art s, craft s and cultures
of th e Ind ian s of th e Southw est .
(Left) Inte nt 6th gra de rs disc ove r the mag i c
of p rehis tory th ro ugh th e Hea rd Mu seu m's
co ll ec ti on o f antiq uit ies. Here a wa ll mu ral
ill ust rate s an as pect o f t he Anasazi c ivi lization .
Photo s by Jerry Jacka
41
Navajo ladies in satins and silver add color
to a Heard Museum fair.
Jerry Jacka ·
The Inheritor continued
for the dances that would be performed
that day. He had breathed the smoki­ness
of ovens heating and caught wafts
of that marvelous golden, heavy frag­rance
of fry bread already puffing in
skillets. The museum grounds had been
packed with Indian and Anglo families
happy to share this crowded day.
As he grew older each time he visited
the museum he found himself flanked
by people. Groups of women were
learning about the Guild, school chil­dren
listening to tours, and tourists
talking about how they found the
Heard enchanting as well as educa­tional.
No one ever wondered why he
was there. They accepted that he
belonged.
Once, a few years later, he had eaves­dropped
on a lecture given to a group
of elderly day-care center residents. The
people had especially enjoyed the weav­ing
exhibits since many of them had
done some weaving. At the conclusion
of the tour one lady pushed her walker
up to the docent.
"We feel badly that we don't have
a gift for you."
The docent's eyes filled with tears as
she reassured them that no gifts were
in order. "Sharing the riches of this
museum with you is my joy," she
explained. He had felt good watching
that group's pleasure, as if he, himself,
had contributed to the culture that they
so enjoyed.
While he was in high school he got
a job at the Heard helping after school.
Through the years he began to under­stand
then that the museum's director,
Pat Houlihan, believed that the Heard
has a unique opportunity to serve an
Indian public. He saw that under the
gen tie director's dedication, the Heard
would not become a cultural shrine but
a living nonpolitical showcase helping
to educate people about Indian arts and
crafts.
As he worked around the museum
the Navajo boy came to understand,
intellectually, what he had sensed intui­tively.
This was a museum where
cultures were cherished, where through
the continuing emphasis on both past
and living art forms, anthropology is
kept alive. The study of man, through
the Heard's eyes, is a fascinating jour­ney
that bridges oceans, climbs ancient
cliffs, and reaches out to the vast mesas
and mountainous expanse of the South­west.
He learned to recognize how the
director involves his audience in the
various exhibits, challenging visitors to
compare Indian cultures, illustrating the
evolution from raw materials to art,
and even introducing art forms which
are not visual. He saw both Houlihan
and Jon Thomas Erickson, curator of
collections, strive to make the museum
experience as direct and meaningful as
possible. He never tired of listening to
the lectures and docent tours.
"Famous for its emphasis on the
American Indian, the Heard is more
than a collection of Indian arts and
crafts," the smartly attired woman
explained. "True, many of its best­known
exhibits deal with various
aspects of Indian life. The Read Mullan
Navajo textiles, the Fred Harvey Fine
Arts Collection with its superb Navajo
silver, the art collection which was
donated by Dr. and Mrs. Oscar Thoeny,
and the contemporary art and later
African and Oceanic art which Edward
Jacobson gave to this museum are justi­fiably
acclaimed."
She smiled at the group of men and
women and continued, "Recently this
museum was given a major collection
of C. G . Wallace's Indian artifacts
which included many major Zuni
jewelry pieces. A wide-ranging collec­tion
covering Indian basketry from the
Aleutians and the Northwest Coast to
California and the Southwest was given
by Miss Marion Plummer and Mr. and
Mrs. Stanley W. Plummer. But in addi­tion
to these Indian collections, the
Heard also showcases ethnic artifacts
from throughout the world . We always
emphasize beauty and skills of the past
as we seek to reach out to the present."
Her voice faded as the group followed
her to the next room.
He could easily picture the distin­guished
curator of anthropology, H.
Thomas Cain, explaining that the Heard
numbers nearly 75,000 items in its hold­ings.
Cain would point out, "Traveling
exhibits, rotating displays, special
shows, and permanent exhibitions
endeavor to deliver as much of the
museum to the public as possible. In
the early history of the Heard, as it is
today, exhibition space was inadequate
to say the least. Many fine collections
are in storage and are seldom seen by
the museum visitor. This is both good
and bad. Good in that the items are
there - documented, catalogued, and
safe in the best possible storage condi­tions.
Bad in the sense of frustration
the staff feels in not being able to
exhibit the many fine collections lan­guishing
in the storage areas."
And he remembered Houlihan telling
a reporter that while anthropology con­tinues
as a major facet in the museum's
mission, the emphasis on arts and crafts
has produced profound ramifications.
The director had pointed out, "The
Heard' s emphasis on Indian crafts,
sculpture, and painting began when
Indian art was still in the trinket and
curio category. This museum has played
a pivotal role in the reputation of Indian
arts and crafts. When Jim Parker, then
curator of Indian art and education, and
Dr. Rex Peterson started the first sculp­ture
show in 1973, Indian sculpture was ·
unknown. Now the market has out­paced
the museum!"
He had learned first-hand that the
director was not afraid to present the
Indian as he can be found today. He
remembered vividly a photographic
exhibition by Al Abrams titled "Reser­vation
Phoenix." It had created a stir
of controversy in 1974. He appreciated
that Houlihan dared to display fake
Indian jewelry in the museum ' s exhibit
as a warning to potential buyers. And
43
THE HEARD MLISELI
ANTHKOl'OLOGY
Th e Heard M use um is 50 yea rs old this ye a r
a nd recog nize d as hav ing one of th e top
colle cti o ns of Indi an art in th e wo rld ,
compl e ment ed by co ll ections of Kachinas ,
Nava jo b lankets and ru gs , Indian jewe lry,
b asket ry, potte ry an d tex tiles.
Jerry Jacka
The Inheritor continu ed
he took pleasure in the director's pride
in contemporary Indian paintings. Once
he had heard Houlihan tell a magazine
writer, " I want the kids at St. Johns
Indian Mission to see these are Indian
paintings and there is not a teepee
among them."
He knew, through his long associa­tion,
of the director's future hopes for
the Heard. " I would like to develop a
larger research capacity, bigger collec­tions,
and attract even more community
interest," he had heard Houlihan
explain. He knew that the director
wanted to involve other ethnic groups
as well. "The Mexican-Americans in
this town are culturally disenfran­chised,"
Houlihan had observed. " I'd
like to show more African materials
and create more interest in the Chicano
contemporary art exhibit. And of course
we don' t want to diminish the role of
this museum as a storehouse of national
treasures. We have the major Kachina
collection in the world and one of the
major Navajo weaving exhibits of blan­kets
and rugs in the Southwest. Our
fine collections of Indian jewelry, bas­ketry,
pottery, and textiles are comple­mented
by our having one of the top
collections of contemporary Indian art
in the country."
But of all the comments one truly
struck home with him. Houlihan had
stated that the Heard has been com­pared
to "Mother Church." " The
museum is tied to a pioneer family that
was very influential in developing the
water and power resources in all of
Arizona. And so the museum has an
aura about it of legitimizing things,"
the director had emphasized. "If it is
at the Heard, it must be all right."
"It must be all right," the Navajo­boy-
turned-young-man said aloud to
his reflection. Peering into the mirror he
adjusted the necklace of his own design.
Satisfied that his hair hung straight
almost to his collar, he smoothed his
shirt. For a moment he stared at him-self
self-consciously . It seemed as if the
years could not have galloped past so
quickly. He was still that slightly- scared
eight year old who first visited the
Heard with his third grade class. He was
yet that awkward sixteen year old, too
nervous to go into the society- filled
rooms where a major artist was holding
court for a show. He had hung around
outside, he remembered with a grin,
trying to act casual. But he had watched
the silver and turquoise studded men
and women strolling through the build­ing,
sipping champagne, and admiring
exquisite objects. He had watched while
the big names in Indian art - Charles
Loloma, Fritz Sholder, and Alan Houser
- had filled the place with their adoring
fans .
Over the years he had haunted the
Heard during the 10 days of the
Museum Guild show when the estab­lished
and unknown artists from all
over North America entered their best
arts and crafts in the Heard Indian Arts
and Crafts Exhibit. He had scrutinized
the prize-winning pieces, studied all the
entries , and tried to learn craftsmanship
and design.
Now it was finally his turn. He had
polished his techniques in the use of
silver, dared new combination s of
stones and design, and tonight he
would take the leap with a preview of
his own one-man show. For him the
Heard was not only the culmination of
a dream but a beginning. Having shown
at the Heard, he knew, was a real
feather - every bit as meaningful as
the feathers that his ancestors had used
a s status statements.
The young artist gave himself a last
critical glance. Tonight his grandmother
and mother and father were coming to
share his glory. He picked up the keys
to his car, tossed them quickly into the
air and caught them deftly. " If only
that small boy leaning against the wall
15 years ago could have known what
was in store for him."
He closed the door and began to run
. . . quickly.
Editor's note: During the pas t 50 years
the Heard Museum has touched the
live s of many visitors , enriched the
experiences of c ountle s s v olunteers, and
alte r ed the course of the careers of
many artis ts who have been associated
with this mus eum. In the future it will
continue to do what it doe s so w ell :
offering the tourist a nd re sident alike
some of the best of man' s ethnic pa s t
and the choices t of h is cr ea t ive p r esent.
Today, in the Hea rd 's golden y ea r ,
the s taff and board and guild can look
forward to eventua l phys ical e xp an s ion.
A s in the pas t long -ran g e g oals empha­size
keeping the H eard vital in s pirit
and physically in harmony.
The prof ession a l s taff is s uperbly
s upported by the museum' s Board o f
Trus tees which probably repre s ents the
mo s t influential g roup of r es idents
in the sta te . A s was the case w h en Mrs .
Maie Bartlett Heard firs t dedica ted the
museum, le a ding citizens continue to
s tep forward to advise and assis t. The
g uild, today, numbers more than 500
members and through these volunteers
the Fall Arts and C rafts Exhibit, the
annua l Spring India n Fair, and lec tures,
tours, and s tudy sess ions are open to
the public. In addition, guild members
s taff the g i ft shop, assis t in the library,
and wor k a s curitoria l aide s.
The museum, loca ted at 22 E. Monte
Vi s ta Road, Phoe nix, is open Monday
through Saturday 10 :00 a.m. to 5 :00
p .m . and Sunday, 1 :00 p .m. to 5 :00 p .m.
Sugge s ted donation : $1 .00 for a dults,
and 50c for children.
The Mu s eum, a non-profit o rga niz<'t ­tion
, exists entir ely through private
donations. Personal membership begins
at $15 for individual and senior citizens,
and $25 for familie s. Other ca te gories
include spon s or, $50 ; donor , $100 ;
patron, $250; and benefactor, $1000
and up . Corporate membership begins
at $250. Memberships are for one year
and date from the month of application.
Dues are deductable from federal and
state income tax to the full e xtent
allowed by law. H
45
Bookshelf by Mary Lu Moore
Inquiri es about any of these titles
should be directed to the book pub­lish
er, not ARIZONA HIGHWAYS.
The Solar Cookery Book; Everything
Under the Sun. By Beth and Dan
Halacy. Peace Press, 3828 Willat Ave.,
Culver City, CA 90230. 1978. 108 p.
$6.95, paper.
Gourmet cooking on a solar cooker?
You bet your buns! Everything from
sourdough blueberry muffins through
baked red snapper to coconut pecan
squares. The authors have sophisticated
a relatively old invention for emergen­cies
or roughing it. These solar devotees
advocate that solar cooking is for every­one.
Scientifically, they go into the prin­ciples
of solar energy and its geography
- more widespread than one would
think. The Halacy's methodically list
materials for two types of uncompli­cated
but efficient cookers: a hot plate
and an oven. Simple black and white
diagrams, photographs and explana­tions
instruct even the most unhandy
person how to construct a cooker.
With a few timely suggestions
regarding solar cookery in general, Beth
and Dan plunge in with both simple and
complex recipes for breads, vegetables,
legumes and grains, casseroles, poultry,
meat and desserts. They don't leave you
in the lurch for a moment, listing com­panies
which sell solar equipment and
suggesting additional reading. Solar
chocolate cake, anyone?
Women Poets of the West: An Anthol­ogy,
1850-1950. Introduction by Ann
Stanford. Ahsahta Press, Univ ersity
Booksto re, Bois e State Un iversity, 1910
University Drive, Bois e, Idaho 83725.
1978. 92 p . $4. 95, paper.
46
Hot off Ahsahta ("Rocky Mountain
Bighorn Sheep" in Mandan Indian lan­guage)
Press is another outstanding
addition to Western American poetry.
Dr. Thomas Trusky' s biographical
sketches and lists of other publications
by and about these poets indicate the
importance of each as an individual in
the early West. Represented are a prom­inent
Mormon pioneer (Eliza Snow),
poets laureate of California (Ina Cool­brith)
and Colorado (Nellie Miller), an
Arizona Territorial Historian, rancher
and editor (Sharlot Hall), California
conservationist and regionalist Hilde­garde
Flanner, three well known writers
identified with New Mexico (Mary
Austin, Alice Corbin and Peggy Pond
Church), two Washington State pen
women (Ella Higginson and Genevieve
Taggard), lyricist Hazel Hall from Ore­gon,
novelist Peggy Curry of Wyoming
and poets Janet Lewis of California and
Gwendolyn Haste of Montana.
The powerful influence of western
landscapes is evident - almost tangible
- in this vivid poetry. Drouth, isolation,
seasons, daily activities, places and local
inhabitants, both human and animal,
are themes emphasized by these early
and later pioneers, who lived from the
eastern foothills of the Rockies to Cali­fornia
and from the border of Canada
to that of Mexico . In her introduction
Californian Ann Stanford, a poet,
writer and teacher in her own right,
describes the varying themes and styles
and relates them to the poets' lives and
backgrounds.
Worthy of attention are two other
Western regional poets published by
Ahsahta Press. Th e Selected Po e ms of
Norman Macleod contains verses so
varied in subject that one wishes to
learn more about the man himself. In
Peggy Pond Church: New & S e lected
Poems, her "Ultimatum to Man" and
"Comment on a Troubled Era" are as
startlingly true today as they were at
the dawn of the nuclear age, and will
remain as true tomorrow as they are
today. Ahsahta Press is filling a definite
need for publication of substantive
contemporary regional poetry. Through
their handsome publications we can
reach out to sense and touch the West.
1,001 Tips for the Great Outdoors. By
Walt Leonard. Contemporary Books ,
Inc., 180 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago,
Ill. 60601. 1978. 250 p. $5.95, paper.
Arizonan Walt Leonard has gathered
all sorts of helpful hints for those who
are new to camping as well as for expe­rienced
hikers and campers who want to
try something different. He leaves little
to chance, as he provides information
on where to go and all the preparations
for getting there. Supplies, clothing and
equipment and their maintenance are
well detailed. In case of unforeseen
events, Leonard gives hints for impro­vising
safety and survival gear. Selec­tion
of camp sites and cooking areas and
trail and waterway guidance are not
overlooked. To complete tips for a well
planned outdoor experience, the author
includes cooking ideas, projects to do
in camp and how to maintain good
health and appearnnce. This is a mighty
handy guide to have for your next out­ing.
Oak Creek Canyon and the Red Rock
Country of Arizona; A Natural History
and Trail Guide. By Stewart W. Aitchi­son.
Stillwater Canyon Press , P. 0. Box
1557, Flagstaff, Arizona 86001. 1978.
142 p . $5.95, paper.
The title aptly describes this sturdy
pocket guide, first in a series for .
northern Arizona's plateau country. An
avid backpacker, Aitchison is field biol­ogist
for the Museum of Northern Ari­zona
and has written both scientific and
technical articles on natural history.
From a very brief sketch of pre-history
and history of the region he proceeds to
more information on climate and geol­ogy
and advances to detailed floral and
faunal data. After each chapter he
wisely lists general and technical read­ing
suggestions. For those intent on
camping and backpacking in the Red
Rock country, the author includes
"Rules of the Road" and road logs with
important features at each tenth of a
mile. He calls attention to fauna and
flora (even poison ivy), geologic for­mations
and historical points of inter­est.
Meticulously, he notes foot trails
with name, number correlated with an
accompanying pocket map, trailhead
elevation and location, length and
related Forest Service and Geological
Survey maps . A checklist follows with
scientific and popular names for the
wide variety of plants and animals
which abound.
Throughout this manual are black
and white photographs and illustrations
which aid in familiarization with ter­rain,
flora and fauna. Most technical
terms are explained, though a short
glossary might have been helpful to the
uninitiated. A helpful index directs one
quickly to numerous topics. Serious
trekkers will need to avail themselves
in advance of detailed Geological Sur­vey
and Forest Service maps to take
along. However, even those who are
driving or casually hiking can glean
much from this guide by reading as they
travel.
Yours
Sincerely
COLORFUL CALENDAR
Editor:
The calendar for 1979 just arrived.
Simply beautiful! The pictures from
last year's calendar now adorn the walls
of my office. They provoke many a
comment and many sighs!
Editor:
Sara Ann Reynolds
Rockford, IL
GIFT CALENDAR
I want to share with you the com­ments
I received from the recipient of
one of the Arizona High~ays calendars
I recently gave as a gift.
" . .. my complete fascination with
it has already occupied many hours. Its
physical characteristics of large type in
colors to blend with each scene is a
pleasing change ... I am greatly
indebted to you for a gift that I shall
use with much pleasure . . . "
Mrs. E.W. Barber
Lake City, MN
PERSONAL CALENDAR
Editor :
We received our 1979 Arizona High-
. ways Calendar today and sure like the
dates of the new moon, full moon, etc.
... we enjoy planning our planting and
going on fishing trips during the full
moon.
Mrs. Very E. Seeley
Escondido, CA
It's true. The Arizona Highways Cal­endar
for 1979 is more than just a new
set of numbers! While the forma·t
remains basically the same, we have
added a few more pictures of colorful
Arizona, selected a type that is just a
little more readable, and rearranged
some of the features so as to make this
year's calendar beautiful to look at and
convenient to use. - The Editor
DID YOU SEE - ?
Editor:
On page 47 (of November '78) I see
about 8 faces etched in the stone wall
facing the falls . .. Is this just a coin-
48
cidence or was it really carved? Wonder
if anyone else noticed these things?
Editor:
Joann Lukacs
Phoenix, AZ
We are really enjoying your Novem­ber
"Special Grand Canyon Edition." I
have always been artistically inclined
... and it seems that everywhere I look
I am seeing faces hidden in scenery .. . .
Your November issue is no exception.
Did anyone on your staff detect the
three bears hidden in the scenery next
to the waterfall in the beautiful picture
on page 47? . . . Now, if we wish to
stretch it a bit, follow that trickle of
water down from the bear - see that
startled eye, (an outline of the nose),
an alarmed expression on the mouth, a
tuft of hair over an ear to the left? Could
this be Goldilocks?
Galen E. Davis
Topanga, CA
No. No one on our staff noticed the
hidden figures in l.D. Berman's beau­tiful
picture, nor did any of the people
who worked on color separations or
printing. But it appears that 500,000
subscribers did! - the Editor
LEARNING THE GOOD LIFE
Dear Editor:
About a year ago, when I decided to
attend a college in the west, I came
across Arizona Highways in the high
school library. In hopes that the maga­zine
would help me get a " feel" for this
part of the country - some 2500 miles
from home - I began reading the pub­lication.
Ever since that fortunate glance
I haven't missed a single issue of your
magazine, and I sometimes find myself
buying duplicates in order to frame pic­tures
without ruining the first copy.
Thank you for helping me ease into
STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP
the life-styles and surroundings of my
new home with such pleasure.
Lydia Osborne
Salt Lake City, UT via
Fairfield, ME
Let us simply say, the pleasure .. .
which we gladly share with you . . . is
ours. - the Editor
35mm COLOR SLIDES
This issue: 35 mm slides in 2" mounts, 1 to 15
slides, 40¢ each , 16 to 49 slides, 35¢ each ,
50 or more, 3 for $1.00. Allow three weeks for
delivery. Address: Slide Department, Arizona
Highways, 2039 West Lewis Avenue, Phoenix,
Arizona 85009 .
NM-178 Organ Pipe Nat 'I Monument ...• . ... . . Cov. 1
MS-11 5 Ch rysocolla ........................ Cov. Z
M0-168 Kofa Mountains ............ . ........ Cov. 4
DS-283 Dawn on the desert ........ . • . ..... .... p. 2
MS-11 6 Aurichalcite (top center) . ... . • . .. • .. .. . p. 2a
MS-117 Rosasite . .. ............ . . • . ....•.. . . p. 2b
MS-118 Hemimorphite . . .... . ....•...•.... .. .. p. 2c
MS-1 19 Turquoise ....... . .. .. . . . . .• . . •. . .. p. 2d
MS-120 Wulfenite ... . .......... .. . .. • . .• .... p. 2e
MS-121 Banded malachite / azurite . .... .. . .. .... p. 2 f
MS-122 Chalcedony (center) ........•.. . . . . . .. p. 2g
S-165 Beavertai l cactus at sunset ...•. . •.. .... p. 7
MS-123 Copper gems ...... .. .......... ...... p. 7a
MS-124 Picture jasper ........................ p. 7b
MS-125 Arizona plum & yellow carnot ite . ...... p. 7c
W-22 Cross-country skiing .. .. .. ... .... . . ... p. 10
W-23 Mount Agassiz .... .. .... . •.. • ....... . p. 15
W-24 Skiing "Doyle Sadd le" . ... . . . • . . . . p. 15LR
GC-395 Grand Canyon . ............... • ....... p. 17
IN-231 Winter storm in Navajoland ........... . p. 18
I R-34 Chaco Canyon Ruins ...... .... .. ...... p. 19
NM-179 Saguaro National Monument . .. . ..... p. 20-21
R-114 Fresh spring fantasy ... .. ... .. .•....... p. 22
C-75 Oak Creek Canyon .. ... . .. ..• .. . .. . . .. p. 23
U-51 Huckleberry Hot Springs .. . .. • . .. .. . p. 24-25
GC-396 Vulcan's Throne . .. .. . ... ...• , . , ...... p. 26
U-52 Zion National Park .. • ... ..•. .. .... . . p. 27
MV-152 Monument Valley .. .... , . . . ..•...... p. 28-29
CC-112 Canyon de Chelly ......... .. .•... . . p. 30-31
CP-25 Leaf patterns ......... . .. . ...• . .. .. ... p. 32
F-58 Early morning in the forest ... • . . .•..... p. 34
HM-20 Indian treasures . ...• . .. .... p. 39
HM-21 Indian baskets ..... ... •.. •..•... • .... p. 47
(Back cover) Bright yellow brittlebrush
decorates the desert south of Quartzsite,
Kofa Mountains background.
David Muench
Statement of ownership, management and circulation, filed October 11, 1978,
title of Publication ARIZONA HIGHWAYS; location of publication office, 2039
West Lewis Phoen°ix Arizona 85009; Head quarters of Owner-Publisher, Ari­zona
Department of Tran sportation, 206 South 17th Avenue, Phoenix, Mari­copa
County, Arizona 85007; Director of Publication s, Marvin Beck: Editor,
Tom C. Cooper.
10. EXTENT AND NATURE OF CIRCULATION
A. Total No. Copies Printed (Net Press Run) ... . . .. .. .. . . ... . . . .. .
B. Paid Circulation
1. Sa les through Dealers and Carriers, Street Vendors
and Counter Sales ... . ...... . ... .. ...... . . ..... . .... .
2. Mail Subscriptions . .. . .. . .. ..... .... .... ... .. .• .. . • •.
C. Total Paid Circulation (Sum of 1081 and 1082) ...........•.....
D. Free Distribution by Mail , Carrier or Other Means
Samples, Complimentary, and other Free Copies .. .. .. •...•.
E. Total Di stri bution (Sum of C and D) . . . .... . ... ... . .. . .. . .. ... .
F. Copies Not Distributed
1. Office Use, Left Over, Unaccounted, Spoiled
After Printing . .. .. .. . .. .. .. . .. .. .. . ... . ... .. ... . .. .
2. Returns from News Agents .... . ...... ... ......... . . . . .
G. Total (Sum of E, F(l), and F(2) should equal net press run
Average No.
Copies
each issue
during
Preceding
12 months
716,033
123,401
496,340
619,741
22 ,200
641 ,941
18,614
55,478
Actual Number
of Copies of
Single Issue
Published
Nearest to
Filing Date
684,824
88,979
560,622
649,601
10,350
659,951
24,273
600
shown in A) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 716,033 684,824
I certify that the statements made by me above are correct and complete
MARVIN BECK, Director of Publications
Arizona Highways Proudly Presents ...
The New Look In lnd·an Jewelry
• More full-color pages
• A collector's classic