Some of the West’s most colorful characters ended up in Arizona sooner or later. For some, it was the lure of the boom town bonanzas. Others found it a refuge from the restrictions of more established societies in the East. For DeForest Hall, it was the wide open spaces and the weather. He liked the high desert around Wickenburg so well that he changed his middle name to Wick.
Ever since man first set foot in this rugged piece of terrain known as Arizona, he has felt compelled to brand everything with a name. Inspiration for these place names came from a variety of sources—some quite obvious.
Lousy Gulch got its name after all the residents got lice. When Mormon pioneers decided to settle near a large stand of Ponderosa pines, they simply named their community Pine. Another group settled in a small valley where they found wild strawberries growing in abundance and decided to name their town Strawberry. Henry Clifton, a member of an early Indian-fighting militia, claimed that in 1864 the place was known as Wah-poo-eta for a prominent Tonto Apache chief better known to whites as Big Rump. The most obvious place name in Mogollon Rim country was bestowed when a group of settlers pulled into a little green valley and promptly named it Little Green Valley.
SNOWFLAKE — This is a two-house story, rather than the usual two-story house. It begins in 1878, when Andrew Rogers built a simple one-room log cabin for his family after they migrated to northeastern Arizona. As the family grew, Rogers added more rooms. In fact, he added so many new rooms that they swallowed up the original structure. After a while, all mention and memory of the cabin disappeared.
It stayed that way until 1989, when the house of many add-ons caught fire. While clearing the debris after the blaze was extinguished, workmen discovered the cabin standing among the ashes. Protected by all the additions, the thick logs had withstood the flames.
Heroes of the Old West came about gaining public recognition in a variety of ways. Some, like Buffalo Bill Cody, came about it by self-promotion. Custer’s greatest glory came after his death at the Little Big Horn. Jim Bridger was glorified in the dime novels of Ned Buntline. The prolific journals of Pathfinder John C. Fremont, along with florid writing of his talented wife Jessie, made Kit Carson a legend in his own lifetime. Others like Pauline Weaver, Tom Fitzpatrick and Ewing Young never got the recognition they so richly deserved. Perhaps the most deserving of them all, yet the least known in Arizona, is Antoine Leroux.
Back in those halcyon days, when getting someplace was an adventure, daring drivers ran road races across the Arizona desert to promote the building of better highways. It’s hard to believe but as recently as 1929 Arizona had less than 300 miles of paved highways. In 1908 promoters began staging road races between Los Angeles and Phoenix. Billed as the Cactus Derby, they attracted such racing daredevils as the legendary Barney Oldfield, Olin Davis and Lewis Chevrolet. Drivers vied for a $2,500 prize and the title, Master Driver of the World.
