Susan Martineau Johnson-Trek South into Arizona

TREK SOUTH INTO ARIZONA

Described by Susan Martineau Johnson


(Editor's note: This account was written April 14, 1937. Real trail-blazers are Mr. and Mrs. Ben S. Johnson of Prescott, who arrived in Arizona 61 years ago Monday. This interesting story by Mrs. Johnson relates, in her own words, some of the dangers they faced, the hardships they experienced and the joys they found as they settled on an untamed frontier and helped build the great commonwealth that is the Arizona of today.)

With nine other families we answered the call of Brigham Young, President of the Mormon Church, for persons to move from Utah into Arizona and establish homes. Members of the ten families in our group all were young, but there was only one baby in camp. With a small pair of horses pulling a good wagon loaded to the bows with belongings and supplies, we left Logan City, Utah on March 7, 1876.

It was a jolly crowd and we enjoyed our trip. For some, it was their first trip away from home, and because baking bread in a campfire coals was a new experience, there was some burned bread and fingers the first few days of the trip.

When we stopped in Salt Lake City and visited three days with relatives and friends, some attempted to discourage us from going into a country where there was "nothing but Indians, snakes and wild beasts," but we were undaunted by the threat of such dangers, and decided to continue on and see for ourselves what lay ahead.

Southern Utah residents were kind to us, and when we arrived in their towns and villages, they provided hay and grain for our teams, saving us that additional expense.

By the time we reached Panguich we were traveling in snow and it was difficult to keep the wagons on the frozen road. Snow had drifted in washes and gullies until its depth, in some places, was 10 to 15 feet. Upon reaching the Asa Ranch, we found many families waiting until their men could get the wagons across a three-mile stretch of frozen road.

It took several men to handle each wagon and keep it from slipping off the road, and the three miles was almost a one-day journey. It came our turn to go in our wagon, and after we made the trip safely we found ourselves in the pines where the snow was not so deep. There we found a Mr. Games, an old hunter and trapper. He had cut pine boughs and made a thick shelter on three sides, then spread pine needles on the snow. Spring seats had been taken out of the wagons and arranged around a warm fire so that new arrivals and those already in camp could be seated and keep comfortable. Beans, bacon, potatoes and flour was collected from the different wagons, and we in camp spent the day cooking so there was hot food awaiting new arrivals.

After we left that camp our travels were much the same everyday, with much hard going until we reach Kanab, where we rested, unloaded the wagons and had a general cleanup. From there it was 12 miles to Johnson, where some of our relatives resided. We spent a week with them, and while there I became quite ill and could not accompany our group so the other families decided to go ahead and let us join the next company of settlers to arrive. Our company went to Ballard's Camp on the Little Colorado River, and I never saw them again.

We had been at Johnson about two weeks when Octavious Fullmer, his wife, Rachel, and Thomas Lowe arrived. We joined them, traveled from Utah into Arizona and over the Buckskin mountains. We arrived April 12 at Lee's Ferry and all crossed safely. Rachel Fullmer was the daughter of James S Brown, president of the Arizona mission, who came out to meet us at Moab and accompanied us to Moencopi. There we found a rock house with three rooms-one large and the others smaller, being used as store rooms for provisions, guns and saddles. In the big room was a long table constructed of wagon box boards. There were ten men at the place-Mormon missionaries working among the Indians. Among them were Thales Haskell, Ira Hatch, Luther Burnham, John Rawson and John Thompson. Two of us would cook for the crowd one week, and two more would replace them the next week. We set up our stoves, three in number, and fared well.

Andrew Gibbons arrived in June. The men working in the fields plowing and planting, and we raised a fine crop of all kinds of vegetables.

We were resting in the shade one Sunday in July when we saw a big cloud of dust about one mile away on the mesa. We knew it must be a sign that Indians were approaching, but Indians in our vicinity theretofore had given no trouble and enjoyed visiting with us. This group of Indians, however, stopped behind some big bushes, then came on a run to our front yard. Thales Haskell went to meet them and asked the Chief to step down.

The chief, a Navajo, was accompanied by his 15 year old son and about twenty Piutes, naked to the waist, their long hair flying in the wind. Their bows and arrows were drawn as though to frighten us more. They spread blankets on the ground, sat down and began to talk, with Ira Hatch serving as interpreter.

The Chief said his son had been down near Ballard's camp and had killed two of the Mormon's cattle. He wanted Mr. Brown to say what should be done with the boy. Brown told them that he would go with them to the camp and matters could be settled peaceable. The Chief interrupted to say, "No, You kill him or do what you want to with him." Mrs Brown said, "No, I don't want to hurt your boy, you give the Mormons' a pony or something and it will be all right."

Then the Chief added, "Your men killed two of my cattle and this boy saw them." He had wanted this boy sentenced so he could apply the same punishment to one of our youths. But Mr Brown said, "We will go down to the camp and they will pay you."

The Chief sat down to dinner with us and later presented us with some fine blankets. He sent his men back to camp the next morning. Brown, Ira Hatch and Thales Haskell accompanied them and learned the men at Ballard's camp had killed two head of wild cattle because they were short on provisions. They gave two ponies to the Chief, who appeared quite satisfied and went back home happily.

We stayed there until nearly all the crops were harvested, then my husband and I went back to Johnson to get the things we had left. Our trunks and dishes and some other belongings. We had only a small team, so left it with my Uncle, Sixtus E. Johnson. While we were there, our first child, a daughter, was born but died two days later. We stayed a year and our son, Sam J. was born there. We went to Moencopi, obtained our possessions there, and moved to Lone Pine where nine families were residing.

We constructed a log house and fixed it comfortable with furniture made of dry goods boxes. Our bedstead was hewed from pine timber and laced across with strips of cowhide. Sam and a neighbor build a single mill and had it nearly completed when Indians drove us away and we moved nine miles to Taylor.

We owned a farm among the pines and went there in the summer to raise a crop. We did well the first year. But the second year the Indians again were raiding ranches so we moved back to Lone Pine June 3, 1886.

The next day my husband had to go to Taylor to get some irons for a shingle mill. He took our four year old son with him. They had to remain there all night, which left me with my two year old daughter, and an eight year old orphan Indian boy we had brought from Utah.

About 4 o'clock that afternoon our neighbor, Nathan Robinson, rode over to see us, and said he was going down Silver Creek a mile or so and look for a heifer. He declared he would return soon. He laughed and joked several minutes with me, then rode away on a big black and white pinto horse. That was the last time I ever saw him.

He had ridden down the creek about a mile, we later learned, and saw four Apache Indians skinning a beef. Riding over to them, he dismounted and began to look for brands on the beef. An Indian armed with a rifle stepped up behind him and shot him twice through the body. They stripped him of some of his clothing, carried the body to the creek, weighted it with rocks and sunk it in a 12 foot hole.

When Robinson did not return by dusk, his wife, Annice, became anxious and said she believed the Indians had killed him.

Our little community had only seven families, three residing on the north and the others on the south side of a small creek. On the south side were John Reidhead, Nathan Robinson and John Mann. To the north were Oscar Reidhead, Ben Sam Johnson, James Millett, and Aunt Abbie, a blind woman afflicted with cancer.

When a man rode in and said the Indians Shot at him and wounded his horse slightly it was suggested we band together for our own protection in case of an Indian raid. Brother Reidhead had a large log barn near his house, so those residing on that side of the creek took bedding and provisions and hurried to the barn.

A ten year old boy crossed the creek to warn us to get to the barn as soon as possible. Awakened from a sound sleep, I jumped up and was so freightened I could not even find my clothes or shoes. It was 2 o'clock in the morning. I sat down a few moments to steady my nerves, then dressed hurriedly, wrapped my baby in a blanket and looked for the Indian boy residing with us. He already had started for the barn.

Stopping at Aunt Abbie's home, I called and told her I would take my baby to the barn and ask some men to come and help her. "No, if they come and kill me I will be out of my misery." she said. "Go on-don't wait."

I again begged her to come over to the barn, but she declined. I told her a man would keep watch on her house from the barn. At 2:30 am the men decided they should send to Taylor for help. Which might be needed if the Indians attacked at daylight. John Reidhead, age 14, made the trip on horseback and informed residents at Taylor of our plight.

Twenty men soon were en route to lend their help. They arrived before sunup, and we sure were glad to see them. We knew the Indians had been lurking about all night, for one would howl like a coyote and another would answer. Then one would hoot like an owl, and another would answer. We knew the difference between the sounds of animals, birds and men.

After daylight we left the barn and prepared breakfast for the men. Then they divided into two groups and started a search for Nathan. They soon found where he had been slain, and some of his clothing still was hanging on bushes in that vicinity.

His body was found in the water about 1 PM recovered and wrapped in blankets and carried home on horseback by sorrowing friends. Word of the killing was sent to Fort Apache, and we were advised to move to Taylor. That afternoon we loaded what belongings we could into our wagons and started for Taylor. Aunt Abbie was seriously ill, but declared if I would drive a team she would try to accompany us.

We placed some bed springs in an old white topped buggy and made her as comfortable as possible. I drove very slowly and was the last wagon in the train, as I had to stop frequently to bath her face and revive her. The other wagons finally got about a mile ahead and behind a hill. At Silver Creek I stopped to get her some water. As I stood on the rocks in the creek, I heard sounds and saw some soldiers from Fort Apache. As they arrived the captain rode up beside me and said, "Lady, have you seen any Indian tracks around here?"

"No sir," I replied, "I am not hunting tracks. I have a sick woman and am trying to revive her."

He rode over to the wagon, took her some brandy, which seemed to help her, then he asked, "What are you doing here alone, and where are you going?" I was ready to tell him when about that time several of our boys returned from the wagon train looking for us. We arrived at Taylor without mishap. Everyone was good to us, and provided room for us in their homes, Aunt Abbie and I resided together so I could care for her.

After we abandoned our previous homes the Indians visited them and killed hogs and cows, tore up bedding and burned many things they did not want. We did not gather a crop that year as the Indians turned their horses into the fields and and wild stock finished what was left. Our men stood guard against an Indian attack for nearly two months. By that time the Indians had returned to their reservation.

We finally went to Lone Pine to get things we had left there, but found little of value. Later we moved our log home to Taylor.

We had very little in the way of furniture for our home at Taylor, but neighbors helped by giving us what they could spare. Later we found one of our cows which provided about two pints of milk each day. We made barley coffee and sweetened it with a little syrup. My husband obtained employment making molasses and cutting wheat at the Cooley ranch. With a scythe he cut many acres and was glad to get the work because we needed clothes and provisions.

I had my stove erected outside under a brush shed because it was too hot to cook in the house during August. While preparing dinner one day there was a sudden shower accompanied by lightning. Suddenly a bolt struck a pine post and made kindling wood of it. The shock struck me and I clung to the table to keep from falling. It seemed as though my head was in a sheet of flames with gun caps popping around it. I fell on my hands and knees, unable to stand, then managed to crawl into the house and fall on the bed. There my plight was discovered and I was cared for. I had a pain in my head for weeks.

Our son, James, was born September 4, Sam was still working at the Cooley ranch and could not leave to return home. So I was left with an 11 year old girl to care for me and three children. I certainly was blessed, and soon was able to care for my family.

We next moved to Round Valley (Springerville), and then settled on 80 acres at the present site of Egar Several other families soon settled in that vicinity and the town was named for one of my cousins.

We moved in 1886 to the Salt River Valley and had a good home there with a fine orchard, some bees, cows, and we even sent milk to the Tempe dairy.

Then we decided to go to Juarez, Mexico, to visit my father, James F Martineau. He was a surveyor and went to Juarez to survey the colonists' township. Colonel Kosterlisky, a friend of my father, wrote and asked us to come for a visit, suggesting we bring anything we wanted and there would be no charge as he would "Frank us through".

We loaded one wagon with provisions, taking enough to last us a year. We had an uneventful trip from Phoenix to Tucson. Camping there one night, we were sitting around our camp fire when a man came running and said, "Take it off!" He turned his back and a big Gila monster was hanging to the seat of his trousers. One of the stable men took hold of the reptile and cut out the seat of the man's pants. The fellow said he had [been] drinking and was lying in a small arroyo when the reptile grabbed him. The last we saw of the reptile, it still gripped the seat of the man's trousers in its jaws.

We moved on to St. David and, as it had been raining, some of our dried fruit became damp so we unloaded the wagons to dry our things. The next day word came from Colonel Kosterlisky that all travel south of the border must be halted because of trouble in Mexico. We moved into a house at St. David while awaiting word to continue our trip.

September arrived and we decided to stay and send the children to school there. We had six of school age. We finally sold our home at Nephi, in the Salt River Valley, and bought one in St. David. We cleared 40 acres of land, dug three artesian wells and planted a fine apple orchard. We resided there several years, then decided to return to Mesa where we established a home and resided many years.

We experienced many hardships, but enjoyed good health and did not fret over our troubles. My husband now is 84 years old and I am nearly 81. We had 11 children, 46 grandchildren. We spent our lives and energy in helping build a great State.




Song
Called to Arizona
in 1876

Each one in the company composed a verse as they traveled along the long and dusty road to Arizona.

Mother's Verse

We started in the winter and it was very cold I am sure
we never would have gone, had we not been called,
but to fulfill this mission we thought it we the best,
so we started on the road to Arizona.

Chorus

Hurrah, Hurrah we’re off to find a land
Hurrah, Hurrah we’re drawing through the sand
Our teams are very poor and water not at hand
as we go down to Arizona

Father’s Verse

We feel to thank the Lord, for a man like brother Brown
and to all his party, whom honor doth belong.
They pioneered the roads and helped the Company on,
to settle up the land in Arizona

Andrew Woods

You that go to Arizona be sure and take enough
of flour, beans and bacon and other kinds of stuff,
for if you do not do it you’ll find it rather tough
before you raise a crop in Arizona.

Rachel Fulmer

Hurrah, Hurrah, we are off to find a land
Hurrah, Hurrah, we’ll face the drifting sands,
we’ll cross the barren desert according to command,
and settle up the land in Arizona.

Thad Fulmer

We traveled in the winter through mud, sleet and snow
and if you ever travel it you’ll find that it is so,
the road was long and winding, not like the flight of crows
like going around Jerusalem, to get to Jerico

Tom Lowes

We entered House Rock Valley late one afternoon.
The wild Mexican cattle stared at us like Goons.
We went on to the ranch house to see about some food
its a lot better here now, in House Rock Valley.