A TREK TO ARIZONA
Of the Archibald O. Lamoreaux Family
by Harold Lamoreaux
Time: 1894: President Grover Cleveland was half-way through his second term in the White House; the effects of the financial panic of 1893 were still being felt throughout the country; during the spring, "Coxey's Army" of unemployed marched upon Washington, D.C., demanding relief and the Pullman Strike agitated by Eugene V. Debs against the railroads stirred up so much violence that Federal troops had to be sent to Illinois to restore order. The year before, the World's Columbian Exposition had been held at Chicago and the new Metropolitan Opera House in New York had opened. To brighten the drab life of many in New York, politicians sent thousands of newsboys to Coney island for picnics and each summer women and children from the tenements were herded aboard fleets of ferries that were loaded with vast quantities of ice cream, peanuts and soda pop, and taken on excursions up the Hudson River. Tammany Hall and the Bowery were by-words in New York. This was the era which produced "The Sidewalks of New York", this was the "Gay Nineties."
Place: Dingle, Idaho. Life was not exactly gay for the Archibald O. Lamoreaux family, living on a dry wheat farm nestled in the southeastern corner of Idaho, a few miles from the borders of Utah and Wyoming. Flanking them to the south and west was Bear Lake from which the county got its name, a beautiful sheet of water approximately eight miles wide and 24 miles long, divided almost precisely across the center by the Utah-Idaho border. Within its fresh clean water, fish abounded, principally trout. The nearest town, Dingle, a few miles to the north, was a small Mormon community of about two hundred persons. "Diamond Jim" Brady, Victor Herbert, Lillian Russell and others may have been dining on oysters and pheasants and drinking champagne at the old Waldorf-Astoria and singing melodies from the latest musical comedy as they strolled along Broadway, but living conditions were primitive on western farms and ranches.
It was the long, bitter cold winters that forced the Lamoreauxs to leave Idaho. A Doctor Hoover in Montpelier, Idaho, told Dad (Archibald O. Lamoreaux) that he should move to California or Arizona as Mother (Lydia Lovera Crockett) could not stand the climate and high altitude of Idaho. The cold weather that was threatening her life had struck with devastating effect eleven years before against Dad. In 1883 a few days after Christmas, he was caught in a blizzard while deer hunting near Preston, Idaho. When found 24 hours later his limbs were so badly frozen that to save his life, it was necessary to amputate nearly half of both feet. The little fingers on both hands were also cut off.
Whether to move to Arizona or California? It was a withered peach branch that helped tip the scales in favor of Arizona. Two or three years previously a neighbor, Ike Palmer, had gone to Arizona and Dad had written asking him about conditions there. Mr. Palmer's answer consisted of a blooming branch off a peach tree from his front yard, which he mailed Dad. Considering the slowness of the mail, it must have been an unimpressive looking peach tree branch that Dad unwrapped. But the evidence of peach petals were there, perhaps even a faint odor remained, and the contrast with snow-covered Idaho country side was great. Eden, the name of the town in Arizona might have helped too. After months of snow, ice and freezing winds, these faded peach blossoms may have suggested an earthly paradise. The decision was made--the Archibald O. Lamoreaux family would move to the territory of Arizona, some 1,000 miles away.
Early one summer morning the family was ready to begin the journey. Money for the trip, and to get a new start in Arizona, was obtained by selling the farm in Dingle for $2,000. It was not an impressive party that prepared to leave Dingle, Idaho one July morning in 1894. Nor was the start an auspicious one, last minute preparations had taken longer than anticipated and the day was well along before the final pieces of equipment were loaded in the wagons and tied down. Dad was determined to start despite the late hour so a fast final inspection was made, the horses examined, a few tugs made on the ropes holding the water barrels and plow in place, a quick glance at the live stock, and then a final walk around the wagons. But as the would be travelers climbed into the wagons and prepared to get the wheels rolling, it was discovered that during the confusion that last minute preparations and flurry of final "good-byes", three year old Dave had wandered off. He was finally found, but by then so much time had been lost that the start was delayed until the next day. That night was spent with relatives and everyone was up early the following morning anxious for an early start. Dad, taking no chances, tied a rope around Dave's waist and fastened the other end to the wagon wheel. Having loaded and packed all of the equipment the day before, it didn't take long to move out. There were many skeptics among friends, neighbors and relatives, gathered to see them off, and with good cause. The proposed journey was a long one, through a little traveled and desolate region, and the group did not inspire confidence. Dad was 36 years old, but badly crippled. His feet were round stumps that rested on thick blocks of leather covered wood. He could move around only with the help of a crutch and cane or by crawling on his knees. Mother was 35, and so sick she was bedfast in one of the wagons much of the trip. Five children were in the party. Orrell, the oldest was 14 years old, and Nora, the youngest, an infant of three months. The three other children were Ray Deloss, age 12, Guy Vivian, age 7, and David Crockett (named for both of his grandparents, but called Dade or Dave all his life), age 3. A crippled father, a sick mother, two infant children, three young boys, the oldest barely in his teens, and nearly 1,000 miles of mountains, deserts and rivers to cross before they were to reach their "Promised Land", small wonder that many people looked askance at the trip. The only able bodied adult in the group was Hyrum E. Crockett, Mother's 22 year old brother, who in later years became Utah's Secretary of State. He planned to go along and become a school teacher in Arizona.
As they prepared for the journey, Dad may have thought of the trip taken in 1850 nearly 45 years before, by his father, David Burlock Lamoreaux and family. They crossed the plains from Nauvoo, Illinois, to Salt Lake City, Utah, with a band of Mormon pioneers, bringing with them the bell from the Nauvoo Temple. However, they ahead traveled with a group, and Dad and his family were traveling alone.
If the personnel seemed somewhat inadequate for the trip ahead, their equipment was good. All the family's earthly possessions were in two wagons, one a new Bain wagon. Because it had springs, a large double bed was placed inside this wagon for the parents to use. The bed was placed in the wagon box, a near perfect fit.
Eleven horses were included in the little caravan, two of them saddle horses. There was one team on each wagon and the other horses traveled behind, herded usually by Orrell or Ray. To obtain food and protect themselves from the Indians, animals and outlaws, the family carried a .44 carbine with an octagonal barrel, a muzzle loading 10 gauge shotgun and a revolver.
There would be a need in Arizona for farm equipment, so a hand plow, shovels, hoes and pitchforks were among the items carried in the second wagon. Drinking water and grain for the horses added to the bulk. One saddle and six harnesses were also carried.
The end of the first day of travel found the little group camped in a mountainous area between Larktown and Garden City, Utah. Camp on the second day was made forty miles from Dingle. That night several of the horses broke their hobbles and disappeared. The next day Dad started off in pursuit, but first making arrangements for his family to stay on a dairy farm near the Wyoming line. The horses traveled northward and were tracked all the way to Dingle. Dad took advantage of this return to complete some unfinished business. Prior to leaving Idaho he had set out some fishnets in Bear Lake and had asked one of his friends to work them. But he now hauled in the nets himself and taking the trout and sold them to secure additional finances.
Meanwhile he dispatched Rochester (Chess) Smith, a 15 year old nephew of Mother's out to bring the family back to Dingle to regroup before starting off again. One wagon and the extra horses were left at the dairy farm and Mother and the children retraced their steps to Dingle. Even their return journey was troublesome. They lost the burr (nut) off one wagon wheel and Dad had to send another out to get them home. The entire family moved in with a sister of Mother's, Aunt Nora Ream. (Frequently during the move and while getting settled, Mother's family rendered aid in many ways.) Prior to making another start for Arizona, Mother and Dad spent a week visiting members of the Crockett family in Preston, Idaho and Logan, Utah.
The return to Dingle after only a two day journey did not go unnoticed by the neighbors--many said the trip should not have been undertaken in the first place. But nearly a month after the abortive start they began again. The entire family piled in the one wagon and rode out to the ranch where they picked up their other wagon and additional horses. Dad found Uncle Hite, who had spent the time working for a nearby rancher, and convinced him that he should continue the journey with them. Dad settled his account with the dairyman and they were off once more--destination: Arizona.
The little caravan rolled along on its trek with Dad driving the lead wagon. This was the new wagon and Mother, Nora and the young boys rode with him. Uncle Hite followed in the second wagon, some hundred to two hundred yards behind to avoid the dust, while the extra horses brought up the rear of the caravan herded by Orrell or Ray. Guy and Dave frequently would switch off and ride in the light wagon.
From the start the route was through rough desolate country. Instead of skirting the shores of the Great Salt Lake and traveling through the relatively densely populated part of Norther Utah, the little company followed a course to the East, roughly parallel to the Wasatch Mountains. A century later this plateau region, which averages over 5,000 feet in elevation, is almost devoid of signs of civilization.
Utah Highway Number 3, which becomes Wyoming Highway Number 89 when it crosses the State Line, connects Laketown, Utah with Evanston, Wyoming. These highways, it is believed, closely approximates the route taken by the family. One of their first camp sites was the town of Almy, a small town five miles northwest of Evanston. At Evanston they crossed the Old Mormon Trail that early pioneers had taken into the Salt Lake Valley less than fifty years before. Dad led his party toward the majestic Uinta Mountains that blocked travel to the south. The Uinta's highest mountains in Utah, and the only major mountain range in the United States with and east-west axis, were enough to give any group of travelers trouble. The five tallest peaks towered over 13,000 feet into the sky, while between the numerous peaks were deep amphitheater-like valleys, carved by glaciation. In many of these valleys were alpine lakes. It was and still is a wild and difficult place. South of the Uintas was a forested area where the plateau summits rose from 9,000 feet to 11,000 feet high. Even today this region is completely uninhabited. The exact route Dad took to get by the Uintas is unknown. A guess is that he traveled south from Evanston and passed the Uintas on their eastern flank.
Journeying through arid mountains and plateau areas presented problems. Roads were few and poor, frequently nothing but wagon tracks, and easily lost in dust, sand or hard gravel. Oftentimes there were too many wagon tracks, and without road signs it was impossible to tell which ones led to the next town and which ones wandered off to isolated ranches or mining claims. But by primitive navigation, watching the sun and studying the stars and inquiring of people along the way the group kept moving in a southerly direction. After by-passing or crossing the Uinta Mountains, the family's route was southeast to Vernal, Utah and then into the state of Colorado. Here their patch again turned south, zigzagging back and forth near the Utah - Colorado border. Plodding along at one or two miles an hour the primitive roads wandered endlessly through desolate and deserted wastelands. Hills, mountains, rivers and sandy washes slowed the troupe's pace.
Many times the gradient and load would be too great, or the sand too deep, and the horses would balk. Guile, gentle persuasion and threats were the methods used to get an extra ounce of pull from the horses. A steady hold on the lines after the horses leaned into their collars and a confident "Ged-up" was often enough to convince the team they could pull the wagon out of a tight spot. The secret was controlling the horses so that they pulled in unison and functioned as a team in fact as well as in name. A crack of the whip, judiciously applied, would often convince the most reluctant horses to settle down and pull. On other occasions it would be necessary to hitch up a fresh team and with all hands pushing, the wagon would be freed.
Dad did not follow the usual route to Arizona. The shortest and most traveled route through Utah was via Logan, Farmington (Dad's birthplace), Ogden, Salt Lake City, Provo, Nephi, Richfield, and Panguitch. These towns, like widely spaced beads on a gigantic strand of pearls, bisected Utah from the Idaho border to Arizona. But Dad had reasons for taking the eastern and longer route that followed the Colorado - Utah border.
1. More feed for the horses. A drought in southern Utah the previous year made it seem desirable to go where there was more grass and less traffic.
2. Cooler weather. The usual route led through the eastern part of the Great Basin area, a region that had frequently experienced disagreeably high summer temperatures. The relatively cool mountain roads approximately two hundred miles to the east seemed better, especially for in the infant Nora.
3. Safety. Dad wanted to avoid crossing the Colorado River. Stories of horses, equipment and lives being lost at Lee's Ferry in northern Arizona seemed a good reason for avoiding the more direct route.
The round-about trek through sparsely settled country, took them across what geographers call the Colorado Plateau, a vast up-land averaging over 5,000 feet in elevation that covers part of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado. Moving at snail's pace across this bleak, rugged region, the family did not know that approximately fifty years later prospectors would be scouring this very area with Geiger counters, searching for and finding uranium, a mineral more valuable in the atomic age than gold. Deposits of uranium worth millions were possibly passed by, deposits destined to lay unseen and undisturbed for another half century before bring vast wealth to their lucky discoverer.
Dad's route took them to Grand Junction, Colorado, today the center of the uranium rush. But the mysteries of the thermonuclear era were well in the future and to the younger members of the family the most exciting sight in Grand Junction was the mule driven street cars being pulled through city streets.
As planned, the little caravan by-passed the most dangerous part of the Colorado River, but there were other rivers to ford. They crossed the Uinta and Green Rivers in Utah, the Gunnison and Colorado Rivers in Colorado, the San Juan in New Mexico and in Arizona the Little Colorado, the Black, the White and Gila Rivers. These were the larger rivers and there were many smaller ones. Frequently sign posts on each river back marked the best points of entrance and exit. At one crossing a map was posted indicating the best fording points.
The day to day routine consisted of breaking camp at sun up and traveling until sundown. One of the chores performed during the day was to gather firewood as they rolled along. Pieces of dry mesquite, pine and juniper were gathered up and tossed into the wagons to save time when they pitched camp in the evening. At night there were other jobs to do, Uncle Hite and the older boys hobbled the horses so they wouldn't get away, fed them grain, and put bells on the lead horses. Meanwhile, Dad took the firewood gathered during the day and built a fire. Because Mother was frequently bedfast, Dad did most of the cooking. Bacon, potatoes, mutton (sheep and goat) bottled fruit, and Dutch oven biscuits were staple items on their menu. Oftentimes fresh vegetables, corn, peas and string beans, purchased from ranchers livened up their meals. Fish and wild game added variety to their food supply. The game was usually rabbit or prairie hen, mountain trout was the usual fish. Deer and antelope where in the area but despite many efforts not one was every killed. "Buck fever" affected Dad and Hite one particular day. The two hunters fired five shots at an antelope from a distance of not over twenty yards, without injuring the animal, except perhaps its nerves. An occasional wild turkey or two provided a welcome addition to the larder. Sunday was a day of rest. It was then that most of the hunting and fishing was done.
It was the "Gay Nineties" period, but Dad, Uncle Hite and the boys wore clothing in keeping with the Western frontier. There was nothing gay or frivolous about their garb; copper riveted pants, known today as "Levi's" and similar type jackets. Heavy flannel shirts, button shoes and black felt hats with narrow brims completed a serviceable costume. Not until they reached Arizona did they see broad brimmed "cowboy" hats. Dad did not wear shoes, the stubs of his feet rested on squares of wood two inches thick, covered with leather and laced to his ankles. Mother was the epitome of feminine style in long gingham dresses that dragged the ground and she shaded her eyes with poke bonnets typical of that day.
By 1884 the Indians had been moved to reservations but they still presented problems. Renegade groups roamed the West, pilfering, robbing and making themselves disliked and distrusted by both white and red men. Descendants of the warlike Apaches (Geronimo had been captured only eight years before) and the nomadic Navajos were the most worrisome. The Uintas were friendly and on occasions Dad bought feed from them. Like many primitive people these Indians were fond of practical jokes. On one occasion they indicated that they wanted seven year old Guy in exchange for some grain. Probably this was a game devised to scare the younger members of the party.
One experience with Indians had serious implications and could have ended disastrously. It happened near Chimney Rock in northwestern New Mexico. The family awoke one morning and found all their horses gone, although the night before the horses had been hobbled and a bell placed on the neck of the lead horse. Orrell and Ray started out on foot to track the missing horses. Soon they found two of them, still hobbled, but in the custody of two Indians. The boys with the aid of a few pieces of chewing tobacco got these horses back and returned to camp. Dad and Uncle Hite then rode off looking for the other horses and rounded them up, ... all but one. The missing animal was a blooded bay mare about three years old and the best horse Dad owned. She had been broken to ride but not to work. Dad was told that a group of renegade Navajo Indians had driven the horses away during the night and, it was believed, still had the missing mare. Dad decided to investigate.
Riding bare-back, alone and unarmed he went to the Indian village. There in the corral with the Indian ponies was his little bay mare. Dad said not a word but rode to the corral and without dismounting opened the make shift gate and entered the corral. Approximately 15 armed Indians watched in sullen silence as he maneuvered among the horses trying to catch the mare. Finally Dad looped a rope around her neck and led the little mare out the corral gate without a word to anyone. No one made a move to stop him.
People who heard of the incident found the story hard to believe. The band of Indians was an outlaw group with little respect for law or property. Someone explained that it was the Indians' superstitious fear of deformed persons that saved dad from death or injury. Indians of those days believed cripples to be possessed of evil spirits and Dad must have been an awesome sight as he rode among the horses, his eyes flashing in righteous indignation, fingers missing as he handled the rope and only stumps slapping the sides of his horse where there should have been feet.
As a rule the Indians were friendly, sometimes too friendly but they did help break the monotony. Using a few words, usually nouns, and with descriptive gestures, they were able to tell the family of their exploits hunting various animals over many types of terrain. Sometimes an Indian would entertain them for an hour or more. Because of their skill at mimicry there was little chance for misunderstanding. Oftentimes they stopped the caravan and asked for presents. Usually they wanted tobacco, coffee, flour, or meat, the first two items being their favorite "gifts".
Dad met this problem by carrying such items in special small cans and when the Indians requested "gifts" they were shown an almost empty can. This prevented them from making a big dent in the family's supplies. Here is a description of the Indians as recalled by Guy. "The Indians at times looked spectacular. They nearly always wore some article of bright color, if is was nothing more than a bright red or yellow rag or ribbon about the head. Often they carried or wore around their shoulders beautiful rugs or blankets with peculiar designs and bright colors worked into them. Some of the men wore buckskin trousers and moccasins and were bare form the waist up, save perhaps for a bright string across their forehead and tied in back. Their black hair, dark skin with slight reddish cast and their faces often smeared with paint marks, gave them a primitive and strange look, a mixture of cunningness, boldness, defiance, and cruelty. Their supplication for food often seemed more of and order than a request. When they approached the wagon they would start mimicking and repeating the name of the article they particularly wanted. If it was tobacco that they wanted they would puff as though smoking a cigarette or if it was coffee they would cup their hands and pretend to drink. Dad used to get a great deal of enjoyment out of them when a lone buck or two would come into camp and with a minimum of words and a great deal of acrobatics describe some exploit in which the Indian had participated.
The Indians were not always friendly and they gave the little party some uneasy moments. Once while stopped for a noon meal beside a wooded river bed the hoof beats were heard approaching the top of the canyon side. Upon sighting the Lamoreauxs the Indians stopped and studied the little camp. After a short discussion they continued quickly down the canyon in single file, and headed straight for the family. Naked from the waist up wearing buckskin trousers and moccasins and carrying rifles they made everyone uneasy. Riding into the camp they reined up their horses and got off and preceded to eat everything they could find that was edible. After they finished eating they unceremoniously got on their horses and rode away. There was no conversation while the Indians were in camp and everyone drew a great sigh of relief when they departed.
It was fear of Indians that caused another person to join the troupe. One day near Shiprock, New Mexico, a young man approached Dad and asked him if he may ride with them while crossing the Indian Reservation. He told Dad that he was afraid a lone white man may be attacked by the Navajos. Bob, that was the only name by which he was ever known to the Lamoreauxs', was about thirty years old, tall and slender. His friendly manner made him a pleasant addition to the group. At the time he was riding one horse and leading another. To pay his part of the trip he offered Dad one of the horses. Later Dad traded the horse for a thirty dollar blanket. Bob traveled with them for about a month, making his board bill a dollar a day.
During this month they met a rancher who needed help with his hay crop, so the adult male members of the party, Dad, Uncle Hite and Bob spent several days helping the rancher put up his hay. In turn they received good pasture for their horses, some fruit from the farmer's orchard and some money.
Bob disappeared as mysteriously as he had come. As they were approaching Holbrook, Arizona he volunteered to scout the road ahead. An hour or so later a sheriff and his deputies rode up from another direction. They were looking for a bank robber, whose description fit Bob. The sheriff had been told that the bank robber had joined a party crossing the Indian Reservation. Bob was never seen again by the Lamoreauxs'.
There were other incidents and problems. Once camp was pitched near a sheep ranch and in the confusion of preparing the meal, hobbling the horses, starting the fire and other evening chores, Dave wandered over to study a nearby heard of sheep. Suddenly a childish cry split the air, a big ram had hit Dave down and was standing over him. Every time the boy tried to get up the ram would butt him down again, hard. Fortunately the owner of the sheep was nearby and with a pocket knife killed the ram. Dave escaped without serious injuries.
Amusements were simple and usually revolved the birds and animals that were sighted along the way.
One of the sports that the boys found interesting was flushing chipmunks out of their burrows by the simple expedient of pouring water down the holes. By acting quickly it was possible to grab these damp and thoroughly chipmunks by the scruff of their neck as they pocked their heads from the water soaked burrows. Properly done the chipmunk could be held safely without either the boy or the chipmunk getting hurt. After watching Orrell and Ray do the trick even Guy caught a few chipmunks. But one day he hesitated a fraction too long and the chipmunk grabbed first, biting Guy on the finger. Guy's interest in catching chipmunks came to an abrupt end.
Hunting was an important activity both as a method of obtaining food and of recreation. On one occasion Orrell, Ray and Uncle Hite decided to try their luck as hunters. As they left camp they talked importantly of getting some grouse or possibly even a deer. The afternoon passed and the evening shadows lengthened the hunters were seen approaching camp carrying some sort of game. The way they were walking suggested that it was a small deer. Orrell was carrying the animal by the front legs and Uncle Hite was struggling with the hind legs. Everyone was elated, venison would be a wonderful treat. Soon the mouth-watering venison was disclosed to be nothing but a very large jackrabbit, one of Uncle Hite's jokes.
Efforts were made to camp at a water hole each evening, and often Dad or Uncle Hite would ride ahead looking for water, on at least one occasion they were forced to make camp on a dry river bottom. However by digging several feet into the sandy river bed they obtained enough water for themselves and the stock. Two thirty gallon water barrels that were carried on the heavier wagon had to be replenished at every opportunity. Water holes were not always easily found.
Once Nora became quite ill and a family along the way kindly took Nora and Mother into their house. The ranch family sent for a midwife who helped nurse Nora back to health. Within a few days the caravan was on the road again.
Their route through the Navajo Indian country or northwest New Mexico and northeast Arizona took them near Shiprock, New Mexico (named for an immense rock mass with a nautical appearance), along what is now US highway 66, and then south through Gallup, New Mexico nearly a hundred miles away. Following what is now US highway 66 they turned westward to Holbrook, Arizona. By now they were approaching the last stage of their Journey. They followed the Little Colorado River to the Mormon town of Woodruff and there prepared to descend into the Gila Valley. The preparation consisted of placing most of the equipment on the final phase of the journey.
Here is the description as described by Mother. "When we got to Woodruff we camped for a few days and the people told us what awful roads we had to go over and advised us to leave one wagon and go on, and come back for it after we were rested. Also one or two of our horses had strayed off and we could not find them. We left one outfit and went on, traveling with a bunch of men with freight wagons going to Fort Apache. We traveled slow and were five or six days getting there. From Black River on (a short distance south of Fort Apache) the roads were just awful hills, and almost solid rocks for miles. We just about ran out of provisions and money also. Was surely glad when we struck the valley."
The route taken by this little freight wagons, took them through Woodruff, Snowflake, Showlow, the largest yellow pine forest in the US, McNary and Fort Apache. Then as now much of the area was Indian Reservation. Apaches abounded in the White River, Black River and San Carlos River areas.
As they traveled south the scenery changed from pine to cactus. Eventually the tired and dusty group edged over the Gila Mountains, a few miles north of the Gila River, and started the final descent into their "Promised Land". The first sight was not impressive, far off into the distance the Pinaleno Mountains formed a blue grey mass with Mt. Graham towering 10,000 feet high. Midway through the mountains a strip of green wound its way through the desert. It was the sandy river bottom of the Gila River covered with mistletoe infested cottonwood trees, thorny mesquite brush and thick growths of willow. Nearby the foothills were covered with greenish yellow creosote bushes. The pungent odor from these plants seemed everywhere. Prickly pear cactus, cholla, sand and rock completed the scene, a rather rough looking paradise.
On October 20, 1894 about sundown the little cavalcade reached Eden, a small community at the lower western end of the Gila Valley.
The first night was spent at the home of Aunt Jane and Uncle Alvin Kempton...but not until Uncle Hite had his little joke. Here is the way Guy describes it, "We pulled up close to their place, just out the road from their house. Uncle Hite went in without introducing himself, and inquired of Uncle Al if he would sell us a little hay for our horses and let us camp in his backyard so outside stock would not bother us. He said we were going farther east but our stock was tired and we wanted to rest their first if he was willing. There were many other travelers on the road at that time so Uncle Al thought nothing of it and told Uncle Hite we could pull into his yard, as there was plenty of room. Uncle Al said he would come out later and get some feed for the horses. As Uncle Hite turned to go out of the house he said casually, "Good I'll tell Archie and Lydia that they can stay." That was the tip off, then there was a bedlam of joy and welcome, handshaking and backslapping by the men and laughter, hugs and tears by the women. It was a joyous occasion.
Eden was still ten miles short of their destination and after 12 weeks of traveling Dad did not want to tarry long so near the final object. After what was probably a rather sleepless night they arose the next morning and started for Thatcher, accompanied by Aunt Jane and Uncle Al. They went about 4 miles and stopped in Pima to visit with Uncle Wilfred Crockett. After a leisurely midday dinner the group, which now included Uncle Wilfred and Aunt Mahala, continued on to Thatcher, a small community six miles east of Pima. When they arrived in Thatcher they went to the home of Aunt Delia Curtis, Mother's sister. Again it was a very exciting, heart throbbing experience with everyone talking, laughing and crying.
Here it was discovered that the Curtis family had become so concerned over their late arrival that very day they had sent their son Frank with a team, wagon, provisions and feed to meet them. He went as far as Pima and discovered that the Lamoreaux's had already arrived in the Gila Valley.
Reunions with old friends and relatives from Logan occupied much of their time for the ensuing weeks while they stayed with the Curtis family. During this period Dad was busy looking at property. Finally for $600.00, he bought forty acres of land in Matthewsville (today known as Glenbar) a little settlement about ten miles west of Thatcher. Dad was mildly disappointed with Graham County the farms were smaller and not as prosperous as the ones he had left in Idaho. The weather was hot and dry, even the life giving water of the Gila River was conspicuous by its absence.
Four to six weeks later, before the first crop could be planted, it was necessary to get the stock and equipment in Woodruff. A letter was sent asking the people with whom they had left their equipment to bring the wagon and horses as far as Fort Apache when they took freight to the Indian Reservation. This they did, piling all the equipment in the back of the wagon plus an additional 2,500 lbs. of freight and fruit. This extra weight proved to much and the wagon broke down before reaching Fort Apache. Dad had to fix the wagon before returning to the Gila Valley. The breakdown was only one of the many problems that beset him on the trip, he encountered storms, bad roads and lost a horse.
Despite the complications of getting established in a new country, Dad and Mother were able to aid in building a new school house and church in Matthewsville. Two children were born while they were living in Matthewsville, Muriel on November 9, 1895, just a little over a year after their arrival in the Graham County and Douglas on April 26, 1897.
In addition to building a home in Matthewsville, Mother and Dad were both active in Latter Day Saint Church activities, Mother served as counselor in the Mutual and as secretary for the Relief Society and Dad was ward chorister. They sold their farm and on August 13, 1901 moved to Thatcher. The following day Mary, their youngest child was born.
The years followed quickly, there were other moves, Hubbard, back to Thatcher and eventually to Mesa in the Salt River Valley. For seven years Dad hauled and sold produce, chickens, eggs, etc. to Bisbee, Douglas and other mining towns in southern Arizona. Once while living in Hubbard, four of the children had pneumonia at the same time, Ray, Guy, Dave and Mary. However, by then Ray was married and living in Duncan, Arizona.
Three children served missions for the Latter Day Saint Church. In 1911 Guy left for the Southern States Mission for twenty eight months. From 1915-1917 Nora was in the Central States Mission and in September 1919 Douglas was called to the Mexican Mission for twenty eight months.
The chronicle will end here...the purpose of this account was to recall the trip from Idaho to Arizona. Perhaps someone at another time will describe in more detail the history of the Lamoreaux family after their arrival in the Gila Valley in 1894 until the death of Mother in Phoenix, Arizona some thirty six year later in May of 1930 and Dad's death in July 1941. The descendants of this pioneer Mormon couple are many and today their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and even great-great grandchildren are found in many cities and communities, especially in the West. However, three score and five years, after the arrival from Idaho, Arizona is the home for most of the descendants of Archibald O. Lamoreaux and Lydia L. Crockett. The state that furnished a faded peach tree branch provided fertile soil in which the Lamoreaux family tree was able to take root and grow.