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Hank Schmidt’s Last 1942 Arches Nat’l Monument Monthly Report & Mac McKinney’s First…ZX#36

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Henry G. Schmidt, aka “Hank,” had been faithfully writing his Arches National Monument “monthly reports” to the Southwest Monuments division of the National Park Service since his arrival in 1939. But after three years in one of the hottest and driest units in the country, Hank was ready for a move. He must have dreamed of cooler weather and tall pines because he applied for and was accepted To Kings Canyon National Monument and it’s my guess, as he penned this last report in late June, 1942, he was already packing. He notes below that “the local weather station has reported temperatures of 104, 105, and 106 degrees on several days, and with the high winds prevailing, this heat mixed with clouds of hot sand at times, has made it pretty rough.

He spent much of his time fighting sand dunes that tended to cross and close the monument’s entrance road. Sometimes he couldn’t keep up and tourists managed to get themselves stuck. Visitation itself had plummeted; the country was now in a world war, or “due to present world conditions,” as Hank put it; few Americans had time to take a vacation. Among the 286 who made their way into the monument, was Lewis T. “Mac” McKinney. He was obviously there to se what he was getting himself into. In a couple months Mac would take over from Hank as the new Arches custodian.

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Encounters with the Sublime: Quentin Roosevelt’s Western Adventures —By Harvey Leake (ZX#35)

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“The man should have youth and strength who seeks adventure in the wide, waste spaces of the earth […]. The grandest scenery of the world is his to look at if he chooses; and he can witness the strange ways of tribes who have survived into an alien age from an immemorial past […]. The joy of living is his who has the heart to demand it.”

—Theodore Roosevelt, 1916

On July 13, 1913, fifteen-year-old Quentin Roosevelt peered into the depths of the Grand Canyon for his first time. He and his compatriots had just arrived by train at the South Rim, and they lost no time making their way to the edge to gaze into the awesome chasm. Leading the group was Quentin’s father, Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, who called the view “the most wonderful scenery in the world.” Also on the team were Quentin’s older brother, Archie, his second cousin, Nicholas Roosevelt, and a skilled outdoorsman named Jesse Cummins from Mesa, Arizona, who would serve as the head cook, packer, and horse wrangler for the long excursion they were starting.

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INTO THE MAZE w/ Kent Frost & Ken Sleight (1965-1975) ZX#34… by Edna Fridley

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The Zephyr has been posting the remarkable photographs of Edna Fridley for many years. As some of you might recall, Edna’s daughter Marti gave Edna’s entire collection of color slides and journals to The Zephyr in the late 1990s. Her images cover the entire Colorado Plateau, including trips down Glen Canyon before it was flooded by Lake Powell. She became a close friend of legendary river runners, Harry Aleson and Ken Sleight. And the great Kent Frost.

In this installment of Edna Fridley’s photographs, we’re off to the Maze. Even today, the Maze District of Canyonlands National Park is one of the most remote, difficult to reach areas imaginable in the National Park system.

These photos are a compilation of several trips taken over the years going back to the mid-60s, just after the park’s creation…JS

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E.C. LaRue & the Colorado “River of Menace & Destruction” (ZX#33) By Gene Stevenson

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“The river of menace and destruction”… In the early 20th century, that’s the way farmers in the Imperial Valley of California viewed the Colorado River after it breached its banks and flooded into the Salton Sink in 1905-07. This wasn’t the first time the mighty river had jumped its banks, but the agriculture industry was determined this HAD to be the last. And it was – maybe. I’m not going to rehash how the Colorado River Compact of 1922 came to be passed by a bunch of politicians who gathered together in some isolated resort lodge near Santa Fe, New Mexico. But one key player is seldom mentioned when the history of the grossly inaccurate Compact is discussed. Or the devastating effect it poses on the future of the Colorado River Basin. His name was Eugene Clyde LaRue.

Even though erroneous assumptions were made and compiled in various tables, E.C. LaRue knew the Colorado River better than almost anyone, and was the most experienced engineer, even if his goals for the river were as wrongheaded as everyone else. He had personally surveyed just about every tributary and segments of main stems of the entire Colorado River Drainage Basin. Why did his compatriots give him a place at the table? Who was this guy anyway?

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HERB RINGER’S AMERICA: Coast-to-Coast (Back East 1909-1924) ZX#32

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These images come mostly from Joseph Ringer’s albums. Joseph was a classical musician and performed with some of the greatest orchestras and maestros on the planet. Joseph’ journal recorded page after page of information about his life and of his wife and son. He listed all those  great maestros and symphony orchestras in his journal. Joseph was also an artist; and Herb inherited his gift. Included below is a photo of Herb holding one of his early works of art. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.

So technically, in this edition of “Herb Ringer, Coast-to-Coast,” it’s really his amazing father who should get the photo credits. These images begin before Herb was born, going back to 1909. Herb was born in Brooklyn in 1913, but because his father performed with different orchestras, the Ringers moved about. They spent part of the next few years in Cincinnati, Ohio,. Take a trip through Time with the Ringer Family…JS

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THE ONE & ONLY JOHN DEPUY: On Art, Ed Abbey, Alcohol & Anarchy—from 2006 …. (ZX#31) —w/ Jim Stiles

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John De Puy is a one of the great artists of the American Southwest. He was also Edward Abbey’s best friend for thirty years, until Abbey’s death in 1989. Ed  once described John like this:

“Madman and seer–– Painter of the Apocalyptic Volcano. Campañero, I am with you forever in the glorious fraternity of the damned.”

Years before this 2006 interview with De Puy, I asked him about his life and his origins. He said simply, “I came from a wolf…it was an immaculate conception.”  At 94, he is as cantankerous as ever. He and his wife, Isabel Ferreira De Puy, and their daughter Noelle, still live off the grid, in an octagon-shaped cabin, miles from anywhere. Isabel is a brilliant artist in her own right and her work has been featured in The Zephyr as well as John’s.

For now, here is the wild and woolly interview I conducted with John at their desert outpost, in July 2006. Sixteen years ago…how is that possible? …..JS

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GLEN CANYON & HITE OVERLOOK—The View for the Past 51 Years w/Jim Stiles (ZX#30)

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But in the late 1960s, plans were made to pave the entire Hanksville to Blanding Road. In addition they would have to find an alternative for the ferry. The waters of Lake Powell reached Hite by 1964. The ferry was gone. To replace this simple operation would not be easy. At pool level the lake would be too wide for a single bridge. And so UDOT devised a plan to connect the two sides of the river by constructing three new bridges. It was their only option. Coming from the east, the first formidable barrier was White Canyon. It was a narrow crossing but very, very deep. Once that obstacle was overcome, the new road descended toward the Colorado. At the point where Narrow Canyon meets the Glen, the largest of the three bridges crossed the Colorado River. Finally there was the Dirty Devil River to get over. Thus bridge number three.

When I first discovered the old Utah Hwy 95 in 1971, I was coming from the east and Blanding. The road stayed paved for just a few miles before it turned to dirt. I reached the top of the Comb Ridge Dugway, descended 2000 feet to the wash and then climbed out of the wooded verdant valley and onto Cedar Mesa

It was like another world, I saw no one…. and then everything changed.

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My Short & Creepy Career as a Cross-Country Hitchhiker Pt.1 –by Jim Stiles (ZX#29)

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Maybe twenty vehicles blew past me during my long wait. The Dixie Highway was remarkably quiet back then. (I-95 now parallels it a few miles or so to the west). Finally, I saw an old car, maybe a mid-50s black Chrysler, start to slow down as it approached me. When it came to a stop, I saw that this old rattle-trap was full of middle-aged, poorly attired men, who looked as if they may have last smiled on V-E Day. I leaned toward the driver from the passenger side window, to ask how far he was going. The man looked at me and I almost turned and ran into the swamps. He was short and stocky, maybe in his 50s, and he looked like a retired prize fighter with a really dismal losing record. Life had been hard for this man. In addition, his face was covered with deeply carved knife scars. His cheeks and forehead, even his nose, looked like a highway map. There were more intersecting, overlapping cuts than there was remaining skin.

But I was hot and tired and oddly, when I glanced at the other men in the car— there was one guy in the front passenger seat and two more in the backseat — they looked as scared as I was when I first laid eyes on the driver. And none of them had the same malevolent look that Scarface had, so I decided, what the hell, if they’re okay with him, I’m probably being unfair. Maybe he was in the war. We should all try not to be so judgmental, based on someone’s personal appearance…right?

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BEFORE INSTAGRAM KILLED THE POSTCARD #1: Classics of Moab & Vicinity—Jim Stiles (ZX#28)

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When was the last time someone sent you a post card? A ‘picture post card?’ I honestly can’t recall seeing one of those once iconic symbols of American travelers in years. Maybe even decades.

According to some company called Global Edge, we Americans at one time bought and mailed more than 20 million postcards each year. But those days are fading fast—even five years ago the numbers had declined by almost 75% to just 5 million.

But there was a Golden Age of Postcards, when they not only offered the best way to share a vacation memory and keep friends and family informed as to their travels, they were also, in many cases, true works of art. I’ve been collecting old postcards for decades and it’s time I shared a few with The Zephyr readers…

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GOD BROKE THE MOLD WHEN HE MADE KARL TANGREN…by Jim Stiles (ZX#27)

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I’m here today, NOT to complain about the lack of uniqueness in this bland culture of ours. but to celebrate it when we find it. In this case, as the title suggests, we can gratefully report of a place where “God broke the mold,” in Moab, Utah.

God created Karl Tangren, scratched His chin and either said, “This kid is too amazing to ever duplicate,” or concluded, “I don’t think the world could handle TWO Karl Tangrens at the same time.” My guess is —it’s a bit of both. One thing’s for sure…

There’s only one Karl Tangren.

We don’t get to choose where we enter this world, but Karl Tangren was born in the right place at the right time. You could say his timing was perfect. He landed on Planet Earth via Moab, Utah on September 22, 1931. He lived with his family in a little house on the west side of Main Street, between 100 and 200 North. It’s about where the Love Muffin Coffee shop operates today. In 1931, the streets weren’t paved and cottonwoods shaded most of Main Street. From their front porch, the Tangrens could see the red cliffs on the east side of town, and beyond them, the La Sal Mountains.

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