They were immediately confronted with Arizona's
"rough edges." For centuries, this land had been home to native
people of many tribes. (Many of the water canals we still use in the Valley
were built by the Hohokam, who vanished hundreds of years before white men ever
set foot on this land.) Navajos, Hopis, Apaches, Pimas… these people had their
own societies and their own traditions, but none of that mattered to the
"Manifest Destiny" philosophy of white settlers who saw this as
"open land" available for settlement. Clashes between whites and
Indians would go on for decades. They were bloody and awful.
Arizona also
was known as one of the renegade spots of the Old West, where "law and order"
was hard to come by. Gunfights in the streets, unpunished murders,
instantaneous hangings, unruly mobs and drunken louts - that was early Arizona.
Some notorious moments will live forever, like the gunfight at the OK Corral in
Tombstone in
1881 - perhaps the bloodiest 27 seconds in all of Western history. Then there
was the massive search for Geronimo and his "renegade" band that
refused to be relegated to a reservation - a full one-third of the entire U.S.
Army was sent to the Arizona
Territory to capture this
100-person band that included many women and children. (Geronimo eventually
surrendered in 1886.)
Notorious names like Wyatt Earp, Wild Bill Hickok, Pancho Villa, Bat Masterson
and Big Nose Kate populate the early days of Arizona history.
But so did Martha Summerhayes and Sharlot Hall and George W.P. Hunt and Carl
Hayden, all of whom worked tirelessly to "tame" this wild place.
As the 1800s came to a close, Arizona
didn't see being a territory as a badge, but as "bondage." It needed
the respectability and power of statehood, and efforts to get that began in
earnest in 1888. As historians note, this was a nonpartisan issue, Democrats
(who then ran the joint) and Republicans alike agreed on this when they could
agree on nothing else.
Ironically, the first stumbling block was this: Republican senators in Washington didn't want
another state run by Democrats. And the most powerful senator of them all -
Albert J. Beveridge of Indiana, chairman of the crucial Committee on
Territories - saw Arizona and New Mexico populated by "unlettered"
Mexicans and Indians, "who probably could not speak English and would be
poor risks as citizens," according to an Arizona Highways history called
"The Road to Statehood."
Senator Beveridge did come for an on-site visit in November 1902, but those who
watched the man in action were sure he came looking for ignorance, corruption
and sin (and feared he found all three). The Arizona Republican wistfully hoped
Beveridge found "a high degree of civilization" in Phoenix,
Tucson and Bisbee, but alas, he declared Arizona too sparsely
populated, too illiterate and too lawless for statehood. (They laughed out loud
in Washington when Arizona countered that someday it would have
200,000 residents - impossible, everyone else agreed.)
If you think we get upset these days about slights, you can imagine how furious
those "respectable Arizona
citizens" were when Congress dismissed their dreams of statehood. To add
insult to injury, Beveridge advanced the idea that maybe Arizona
and New Mexico
should be submitted as one state - one local pundit quipped that while
Beveridge was rejecting one rotten egg, he thought two rotten eggs would make a
good omelet. (Oh, those early folks had such a sense of irony.)
In 1906, the idea of "jointure" actually went to a vote: Folks in New Mexico favored it, but Arizona rejected it almost six to one. Into
this fray came an unmarried, feisty, determined, talented and independent woman
named Sharlot Hall, who made history as the first female to ever hold office in
Arizona when
she became territorial historian.
Hall was a Prescott girl (transplanted from the
Midwest), and her love and respect for Arizona
history would not only produce some wonderful books of both prose and poetry,
but would help assure Arizona
became a state. (And yes, Sharlot Hall Museum
in Prescott is
named in her honor to acknowledge all she did.)
Hall's impassioned writing about the virtues of this state and its massive
potential helped sway the day in Washington -
a copy of her stories was put on the desk of every lawmaker before a crucial
vote that finally allowed Arizona
to call a Constitutional Convention toward statehood.
It would be the most progressive constitution in the nation, with voting rights
for women, initiatives and referendums for the popular vote on crucial issues,
and a recall of judges. The last point wasn't acceptable to the president, and
until Arizona removed it, he wouldn't allow us
in. (But the year after we became a state, citizens reinserted recall - so
there, Washington.)
As the Arizona Highways history notes, Statehood Day was something to behold:
"At 10:23 a.m. Washington
time on St. Valentine's Day, motion picture cameras whirred for the first time
at an official presidential ceremony. Abruptly, in Phoenix,
a telegraph key clattered out the official message from the president: 'I have
this morning signed the proclamation declaring Arizona to be a state….'
"A stack of forty-eight sticks of dynamite echoed the people's approval in
Bisbee.
"In Globe, a cannon spoke forty-eight times.
"Engineers yanked whistle cords on boilers of locomotives, laundries,
factories, mines, creameries and mills.
"In Tucson, the siren at the waterworks
wailed, while University
of Arizona R.O.T.C.
cadets crisply executed close-order drills.
"In Prescott,
Whiskey Row raised a toast of firewater and pistol shots, and Arizona-born boys
and girls tossed handfuls of earth to nurture a native white oak transplanted
on the plaza [still standing to this day]. A parade marched around the Yavapai
County Courthouse.
"In Flagstaff,
a newsman wrote, 'Now, b'gosh, even the grub tastes better.'"
We're going to have to work hard to make a bigger splash than that.
My friend Jim Bishop wants every one of Arizona's
15 counties to have an official history written in honor of the centennial. And
what a varied history that would be. Remember, at statehood, the seat of power
wasn't Phoenix or even Maricopa
County, but Cochise
County in Southeastern Arizona, where
Bisbee and Tombstone
were major forces. Oh, they have such stories to tell.
Meanwhile, Jim Ballinger, who runs Phoenix
Art Museum, says he's already planning
a massive display of Arizona
art.
If Phil Boas of The Arizona Republic has his way, Arizona will sponsor a massive
"expo" that will bring visitors from all over the world.
Marjorie Rice of Wells Fargo Bank wants high school students to gather the oral
histories of old-time Arizonans.
Sue Gerard, who advises the governor on health issues, notes that fourth- and
eighth-graders in Arizona
study state history, and so those grades should be primed for special projects
to note the centennial.
Shelly Cohen, who runs the Arizona Arts Commission, sees the centennial as a
time to spotlight the great talents of Arizonans. She notes that during the
nation's centennial, each state was asked to sponsor a project to reflect the
nation's history. Arizona's project is a
fabulous mural at the Heard
Museum. Cohen notes that
"each city should do a project," and said it's important that this
not be "imposed" from the capital. "The art project would
recognize the diversity of each community," she says.
And let's not forget we've got Pioneer
Living History
Museum just north of Phoenix, which is a replica of an Old West
town - that should be a major part of this birthday. Of course, we still have
some actual Old West towns that look like they did in 1912, and the centennial
would be a great time for those restoration projects that have been put on the
back burner.
Retired lawmaker Jim Skelly would like to see Arizona's
media give us all a complete history of Arizona
throughout the entire year of 2012, starting in Territorial days and doing
in-depth stories about each decade of Arizona's
life. Considering that PHOENIX Magazine has produced some terrific perspective
issues to commemorate previous birthdays, I'm looking to them to once again
shine.
I'd also like to see a Symphony commissioned to honor our birthday, and also a
ballet. I think Arizona libraries should
spotlight Arizona
authors. The Heard
Museum, which tells the
history of Native Americans every day, should certainly do even more massive
projects. And if this isn't a moment made for Arizona's historical societies, nothing is.
I also want to see a copper coin minted for the centennial - and it could be a
nice little fund-raiser for some special project that would be a lasting
reminder of our 100th birthday. (Not a statue, please, but something
"living" that would continue to benefit our state.)
It would also be great to have a medallion or door knocker made of copper -
since we're the nation's No. 1 producer - that could be sold to homeowners like
me who'd adore having our homes carry an historical adornment.
If Prescott children
could plant a tree 100 years ago, how many trees or parks could we create for
our birthday?
If we want to be authentic, we won't have a "ball" or a
"dance," but a "fandango," which is what they called dances
in those days. We'll have giant picnics and ice cream socials and bands in the
streets, and parades.
As you can see, once you start thinking, the ideas keep coming. I just realized
that in 2012, I'll be what they call a senior citizen. But that's OK. I'll
still be up for a great fandango!