Today’s question: If Arizona and New Mexico were both settled by the Spanish, why does New Mexico seem to have a much stronger Hispanic heritage than we do?

That’s a good one. For help on this I turned to good old Marshall Trimble, author, singer, teacher, Arizona state historian and all-around swell guy.

The answer in a nutshell is because the early Spanish settlers and explorers weren’t completely stupid.

It starts in 1540 with Coronado, who wandered around the Southwest and up into Kansas for a couple of years looking for the fabled cities of gold, which, of course, he did not find. So he went home, where, according to legend, he found out his wife had been fooling around with another guy while he was out traipsing around, and eventually he died.

Then nothing much happened for 40 years or so because the Spanish had plenty to do in Mexico and, since there weren’t any cities of gold here, they decided to stay home. They had to wait to forget, as Trimble put it.

So 40 years later a new generation of the Spanish got the exploring bug and headed north looking for treasure and settlement opportunities and even the Northwest Passage. The thought was it was someplace in northern New Mexico or southern Colorado. Those wacky Spaniards.

Even though it never gets any larger, the World’s Smallest Museum in Superior remains a work in progress. Owner Dan Wight never enlarges the museum itself, but he’s always working on improving the grounds that surround it. Like adding new fountains. The most recent one is made of old mining equipment; before that Wight constructed one out of old tires.

Most folks will tell you camels are not found in Arizona’s high country. Truth is, those adaptable beasts can thrive in just about any kind of terrain. The U.S. Army introduced camels to the Southwest back in the 1850s, using them as beasts of burden while surveying a road across northern Arizona. But, the Civil War interrupted the great camel experiment, and most of the homely critters were sold at auction. A few were turned loose to run wild—and therein lies the basis for the legend of Red Ghost.

The story begins back in 1883 at a lonely ranch near Eagle Creek in southeastern Arizona. The Apache wars were drawing to a close. However, a few renegade bands were on the prowl, keeping isolated ranches in a constant state of siege. Early one morning, two men rode out to check on the livestock leaving their wives at the ranch with the children. About midmorning, one of the women went down to the spring to fetch a bucket of water while the other remained in the house with the children.

Q: What is the meaning of the stars with the names of old celebrities in them on the sidewalk at the northwest corner of Central Avenue and Monroe Street?

A: This was a deeply disturbing question, not because of the stars themselves, but because we had to get up off our pert little butt and actually walk over there and check it out.

And it occurred to us that we had trod that very stretch of sidewalk hundreds of times and never noticed the stars before.

The stars—eight of them—are a reflection of the past glory of the Hotel San Carlos, 202 N. Central Ave., which is still a very nice hotel, but at one time was Phoenix’s premier hostelry.

And when Hollywood stars were in town, that’s where they stayed. After all, it offered elevators and “automatic cooled air,” a kind of forerunner of air-conditioning, and ice-water spigots in the rooms.