Friday, September 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Butterfield Stage - statistics and account
The Butterfield Stage ran through Arizona in the years between 1858 and 1861, with the help of a $600,000 annual grant from the US Government. The route started in St. Louis and ended in San Fransisco, with stages running twice a week, a distance of 2800 miles, covering the route in 24 days. In three years, the stage was late only three times.
Butterfield employed 2000 people. They had 250 coaches, including the lightweight "Celerity" model that ran better in the desert. Additionally, they had several hundred freight wagons. Butterfield had 1800 horses and mules.
In the three years, Apaches killed 22 drivers.
I don't know what the overall fare was, but on a local coach between Tucson and Tombstone - the Tombstone Express - the fare was $10 for only 100 miles.
Sample distances in eastern AZ:
Steins Pass to San Simon 13 miles
SS to Apache Pass 18
AP to Ewells 15
E to Dragoon Springs 21
DS to San Pedro 25
SP to Cienega 25
C to Tucson 30
Notes: the first three (short distance) involve hills/mountains. The essential fact is that the stations could be only in the scarce places that had water for the stock.
From Pumpelly:
“Having secured the right to a back seat in the overland coach as far as Tucson, I looked forward, with comparatively little dread, to 16 days and nights of continuous travel. But the arrival of a woman and her brother, dashed, at the very early onset, my hopes of an easy journey, and obliged me to take the front seat, where with my back to the horses, I began to foresee the coming discomfort. The coach was fitted with three seats, and these were occupied by nine passengers. As the occupants of the front and middle seats faced each other, it was necessary for these six people to interlock their knees… An unusually heavy mail in the boot, by weighing down the rear, kept in those of us who were on the front seat constantly bent forward… rendering rest at all times out of the question.”
“The fatigue of uninterrupted traveling by day and night in a crowded coach, and in the most uncomfortable positions, was beginning to tell seriously upon all the passengers, and was producing a condition bordering on insanity. This was increased by the constant anxiety caused by the danger from Comanches.”
“We frequently traveled at great speed with only half broken teams. At several stations, six wild horses were hitched blindfolded into their places. When everything was ready, the blinds were removed at a signal from the driver, and the animals started off at a runaway speed, which they kept up without slackening till the next station, generally 12 miles distant. In these cases the driver had no further control over his animals then the ability to guide them; to stop, or even to check them, was entirely beyond his power.”
Butterfield employed 2000 people. They had 250 coaches, including the lightweight "Celerity" model that ran better in the desert. Additionally, they had several hundred freight wagons. Butterfield had 1800 horses and mules.
In the three years, Apaches killed 22 drivers.
I don't know what the overall fare was, but on a local coach between Tucson and Tombstone - the Tombstone Express - the fare was $10 for only 100 miles.
Sample distances in eastern AZ:
Steins Pass to San Simon 13 miles
SS to Apache Pass 18
AP to Ewells 15
E to Dragoon Springs 21
DS to San Pedro 25
SP to Cienega 25
C to Tucson 30
Notes: the first three (short distance) involve hills/mountains. The essential fact is that the stations could be only in the scarce places that had water for the stock.
From Pumpelly:
“Having secured the right to a back seat in the overland coach as far as Tucson, I looked forward, with comparatively little dread, to 16 days and nights of continuous travel. But the arrival of a woman and her brother, dashed, at the very early onset, my hopes of an easy journey, and obliged me to take the front seat, where with my back to the horses, I began to foresee the coming discomfort. The coach was fitted with three seats, and these were occupied by nine passengers. As the occupants of the front and middle seats faced each other, it was necessary for these six people to interlock their knees… An unusually heavy mail in the boot, by weighing down the rear, kept in those of us who were on the front seat constantly bent forward… rendering rest at all times out of the question.”
“The fatigue of uninterrupted traveling by day and night in a crowded coach, and in the most uncomfortable positions, was beginning to tell seriously upon all the passengers, and was producing a condition bordering on insanity. This was increased by the constant anxiety caused by the danger from Comanches.”
“We frequently traveled at great speed with only half broken teams. At several stations, six wild horses were hitched blindfolded into their places. When everything was ready, the blinds were removed at a signal from the driver, and the animals started off at a runaway speed, which they kept up without slackening till the next station, generally 12 miles distant. In these cases the driver had no further control over his animals then the ability to guide them; to stop, or even to check them, was entirely beyond his power.”
In the former county courthouse(now museum) in Tombstone, I noted down the LAST WORDS of the members of the Heath Gang, who were hanged on December 9, 1883.
Heath, himself: "I'm not afraid of this. I've been close to death before."
Next guy: Asked what he had to say for himself - ""Nothing. I guess I deserved it."
Dowd: "Since I'm a cowpuncher, I'd have to say a bull broke my neck."
Bill Delaney: "This is the damnedest choking machine I ever saw."
Kelly: "Let 'er go, Gallagher."
Heath, himself: "I'm not afraid of this. I've been close to death before."
Next guy: Asked what he had to say for himself - ""Nothing. I guess I deserved it."
Dowd: "Since I'm a cowpuncher, I'd have to say a bull broke my neck."
Bill Delaney: "This is the damnedest choking machine I ever saw."
Kelly: "Let 'er go, Gallagher."
Friday, March 5, 2010
My wife Pam and I are back in Arizona for a week, in the same Dragoon Mountain area.
Before I left home, I happened to check the internet ship traffic site for the Strait near where we live. The first ship icon I selected was the ocean tug named "Cochise", of all things. Put your consciousness on some subject, and you can't get away from it. I have been explaining to people that I go off into Apacheria. Apacheria was the term for the time and place of the Apaches, ending with the surrender of Geronimo. The place roughly exists today, but clearly it is short on Apaches. The real Apacheria exists partly in place, but is largely a "virtual" realm, as all history. I am spending another week here, in and out of Apacheria.
Today we drove through Middlemarch Pass and south around the bottom of the Dragoons, which means I now have been all the way around. On the east side, after the Pass, and a bunch of miles on red dirt roads, we came to Pearce. Pearce is described as a ghost town, one of many mining villages that have faded. It still exists on the map and as a crossroads with a few occupied structures, and a former post office. Going south on another dirt road I figured this was probably the most miles I would drive in Arizona without seeing a motorhome. Come to think of it, we went most of the way without passing a car. This area is not a big draw for tourists. In bright sun we drove for miles through mesquite covered desert, occasionally seeing old mine diggings. We passed two more ghost towns which still showed adobe walls and foundations.
After a total of about 80 miles, we came west to Tombstone, which put us square back in Touristland. Back in the late 1800's, there was a time when Tombstone's population of 15,000 surpassed Tucson's. Today its population is swelled each day by visitors who want to see something of the cowboy and mining era. We had to go through it on our way back, plus we wanted to visit the old courthouse, now a State Parks museum. The courthouse was excellent, and my favorite thing was the account of a witness of the execution in December 1883 of the Heath Gang, who had robbed a store and killed a few folks.
In particular it was the last words part of the account that I liked. Heath, the leader said, "I'm not afraid of death. I've been close to death before"
The next bandit, when asked, "What have you to say?" replied, "Nothing. I guess deserved it.
Bandit Dowd said "Since I'm a cowpuncher, I'd have to say a bull broke my neck."
Bill Delaney: "This is the damndest choking machine I ever saw."
Bandit Kelly: "Let 'er go, Gallagher."
Before I left home, I happened to check the internet ship traffic site for the Strait near where we live. The first ship icon I selected was the ocean tug named "Cochise", of all things. Put your consciousness on some subject, and you can't get away from it. I have been explaining to people that I go off into Apacheria. Apacheria was the term for the time and place of the Apaches, ending with the surrender of Geronimo. The place roughly exists today, but clearly it is short on Apaches. The real Apacheria exists partly in place, but is largely a "virtual" realm, as all history. I am spending another week here, in and out of Apacheria.
Today we drove through Middlemarch Pass and south around the bottom of the Dragoons, which means I now have been all the way around. On the east side, after the Pass, and a bunch of miles on red dirt roads, we came to Pearce. Pearce is described as a ghost town, one of many mining villages that have faded. It still exists on the map and as a crossroads with a few occupied structures, and a former post office. Going south on another dirt road I figured this was probably the most miles I would drive in Arizona without seeing a motorhome. Come to think of it, we went most of the way without passing a car. This area is not a big draw for tourists. In bright sun we drove for miles through mesquite covered desert, occasionally seeing old mine diggings. We passed two more ghost towns which still showed adobe walls and foundations.
After a total of about 80 miles, we came west to Tombstone, which put us square back in Touristland. Back in the late 1800's, there was a time when Tombstone's population of 15,000 surpassed Tucson's. Today its population is swelled each day by visitors who want to see something of the cowboy and mining era. We had to go through it on our way back, plus we wanted to visit the old courthouse, now a State Parks museum. The courthouse was excellent, and my favorite thing was the account of a witness of the execution in December 1883 of the Heath Gang, who had robbed a store and killed a few folks.
In particular it was the last words part of the account that I liked. Heath, the leader said, "I'm not afraid of death. I've been close to death before"
The next bandit, when asked, "What have you to say?" replied, "Nothing. I guess deserved it.
Bandit Dowd said "Since I'm a cowpuncher, I'd have to say a bull broke my neck."
Bill Delaney: "This is the damndest choking machine I ever saw."
Bandit Kelly: "Let 'er go, Gallagher."
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Apache photos by C S Fry in 1886
Naiche and wife. Naiche was Chiricahua chief. Geronimo was war leader, but second to Naiche. Naiche was second son of Cochise.
Geronimo and Naiche, March 1886.
Tsisnah, son of Geronimo on right.
Style mattered to them!
Geronimo and his warriors. Naiche on horse.
Geronimo at 1st surrender in March 1886. He and a number (including Naiche) fled as they expected the Army was going to execute them. They surrendered a final time in September 1886.
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