FootNote
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As every one knows, the real purpose of a preface to a history is to give the
author an opportunity - quite casually, of course - to toss modest floral
tributes at himself as he tells you not only what a Matchless Volume he has just
written, but as well calls attention to the erudition employed by himself in
going only to original sources for his information, and in so doing consulting
freely the works of Confucius, Tatistchev and Sheherazade - all in their
original tongues. If this is done with sufficient dash and elan, as the gentle
reader holds the M. V. in her hands, tears of grief will gather in her left eye
at the thought of all the people dead and gone who will never have the
opportunity of reading the M. V., while in her right eye crystal drops of joy
will glisten over the feast of reason that will soon be hers.
Now, as to our erudition as the author of
The Story of Arizona, permit us to say that
the languages employed by the early
chroniclers of the Southwest were Spanish,
Injun and Mediaeval Arizonese. Just to show
our familiarity with the liquid vowels of
Castile we here modestly state that we can
remark in Spanish, "The shoes of our uncle's
cousin are two sizes too large to be worn by
our brother-in-law's stepson," with all the
grace of a Cervantes. "Me hace V. el favor
de pasarme el chili con came," as De Tornos
so truly says. In Injun we can call to a
Pima as we meet him in the road, "Pap V
hay!" as nonchalantly as a Salt River
missionary, and when it comes to Arizonese,
we look only with sadness upon the
tenderfoot who calls a reata a lariat and
thinks a remuda is a new Hooverized war
bread.
If there is any doubt in the minds of the
gentle reader about our access to Original
Sources we can only say that when we arrived
in Arizona, John Hance was still engaged in
digging the Grand Canyon and Herbert Patrick
had barely completed the hump on Camelback
Mountain, from which it will be seen that at
least a part of what has been here indited
has the authority of contemporaneous
observation; as for the rest, we have spared
ourselves no labor in always going to the
fact factory for facts.
While we may seem to be wasting a good
deal of high-priced paper on this preface,
we must say that in trying to compress the
events of nearly four centuries into a
single volume we found that our space would
not permit any elaborate system of notes and
citations. Many of our sources of
information will be found in the
bibliography contained herein. We also
obtained much valuable information from
bulletins issued by different branches of
the University of Arizona and the United
States Forestry Service, as well as from the
proceedings of the State Legislatures and
from different Arizona officials, including
the Secretary of State, the Superintendent
of Public Instruction, the Adjutant General
and the State Game Warden.
To come down to the primary purpose of
this M. v., while we have seriously
endeavored to make the story a
comprehensive, if brief, survey of the
evolution of the land of Father Kino into
the Commonwealth we now know as Arizona,
making it in a way a pageant of cowled
friars, steel-capped Spanish conquistadores,
painted Indians, bewhiskered miners,
swaggering cowboys, and finally, the
prophetic-eyed reclaimers of the desert, its
first object is to give entertainment to the
reader - something, after all, that should
not wholly be lost sight of on the part of
the author.
Also, we have kept in mind that when Mrs.
Emerson de Moliere Browning, of Phoenix, or
Mrs. Many Horses, of the Navajo Reservation,
is called upon to prepare a "paper" to be
read before her respective woman's club, she
has the right to expect that when she turns
to The Story of Arizona she may do so in the
unwavering faith that there is an authority
somewhere for all that has been set down
therein. In retelling stories that have more
than one version, like the account of the
Oatman tragedy, the killing of Mangas
Colorado or the Penole Treaty, we have used
the one that seemed to bear the most
evidence of accuracy.
Under the weight of our responsibilities
to Mrs. Many Horses, we regret that we have
had to be, at times, statistical; that in
spite of our most stringent quarantine
regulations, figures and dry facts would
creep in. In consequence, while there are
chapters that even we are willing to admit
are not wholly without interest, there are
others that read in places with the jocund
sprightliness of an abstract of title. We
would like to mark these arid spots with
danger signals, but our skeptical publisher
fears we might get them in the wrong place,
and comfortably assures us that the reader
will find them soon enough as it is.
Finally, if we should be accused of
putting more emphasis upon the picturesque
than upon the ponderous, of spending more
time with Padre Garces and the young man who
dropped his sweetheart into the muddy waters
of an irrigation ditch than with him who
sits in the seat of the mighty, we can only
say that we never intended writing a Who's
Who. We'd lots rather be accused of writing
Who's Interesting - and vital.
It would probably be suspected, even if
we didn't mention it, that another pen than
ours had a prominent part in writing the
chapter on Arizona Plant Life. Personally,
our relations with trees and flowers are
entirely friendly. We can tell a pine from
an oak at a glance, know the bank where the
Wild Thyme runs her overdraft, and have
watched beds of poppies metamorphose dull
brown earth to a cloth of gold for many
springs; but when it comes to introducing
the public to the plants of the State, not
only by their nicknames, like "Johnny
Jump-ups" or "Owls' Clover," but also
occasionally dropping such awful noms de
flora as Baccharis sarathroides, just to
show one's familiarity with the language of
the horticultural Horace, we know it is time
for us to call for help.
Now, we believe that when one is looking
for a dentist or a photographer to operate
on him, the best is none too good. We also
believe that when one has found one that can
keep him from looking like either Mutt or
Jeff - or can fill an aching void with
concentrated comfort - he has discovered a
blessing straight from the gods. That is the
way we felt when Professor Thornber said he
would help us out.
If John J. Thornber, A. M., needed an
introduction to nature lovers of our section
of out-of-doors, we would simply say that he
is the professor of botany at the University
of Arizona and "the" pre-eminent authority
on his specialty in the Southwest. As that
isn't necessary, we will only mention that
he is the kind of a man who likes above all
things to get out into the wilds during
vacation where he will sit down with his
shrubs and plants and hold conversation with
them as he does with his students in
classroom. Do they reciprocate his
affection? Do they? Why, within twenty-four
hours they are telling him how the
four-o'clocks managed with the advanced
time; how Miss Iris Douglasiana got
overheated and almost had a sunstroke; and
how Old Man Cactus got his feet too wet
during the last rain and had dreadful spinal
rheumatism.
So you see, Gentle Reader, with an
authority like this, statements mentioned in
the Plant chapter have upon them a most
incontrovertible seal of authority. WILL H.
ROBINSON.
Source: The Story of Arizona. Written by
Will H. Robinson. Published by the Berryhill
Company, Pheonix, Arizona, 1919.
Online Publication: The manuscript was
scanned and then ocr'd. Minimal editing has
been done, and readers can and should expect
some errors in the textual output.
