Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 198, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 August 1912 — ONE of WORLDS HOTTEST PLACES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ONE of WORLDS HOTTEST PLACES

DOWN in Yuma, on the border between the new state of Arizona and the older one of California, they revel In the distinction of possessing the hottest place under the stars and stripes. When the rest of the republic has been gripped by winter, thermometers in Yuma register 100 degrees. Just, how high they go in the summer no man has as yet vouchsafed. That Yuma is inhabited by human salamanders goes without saying. Only people who like such heat would come there from choice, and would try to get away after they do get there. There ar* several things at Yuma that excite the attention of Yhe stranger. It seems Just the sort of place you pictured it before you came. Most Interesting are the Indians? Here, alone, of all places under the flag, Uncle Sam allows polygamy, and the Yuma buck is permitted to maintain as many wives as he can induce to live with him in the wigwam. The prison at Yuma is different from any prison west of Gibraltar, and the only counterpart of the village Jail, which Is a sort of stepping stone to the prison, is in the heart of Turkey. The people of Yuma are otherwise so typically Mexican that one wonders almost If one’s under the rule of the stars and stripes. How to Get to Yuma. To get to Yuma you leave Tucson, Ariz., at 8:40 at night. At 6:15 in the morning you’re at Yuma. On the map the Journey seems nothing, but in the west distances are startling in their magnitude? The hotel is what Dickens might have described as a depot restaurant, built over the station Itself, and with its porches looking down into the turgid Colorado river. There Is a bridge, with the Indian women trundling past constantly. A boat landing is near by, while fin the opposite bank is the government Indian school. Everywhere there are the Yuma Indians. The gay garments and blankets they wear are genuine, and not put on simply to attract the tourist. As a matter of fact, the Yumas hate the whites, and while they sell trinkets to them at the station too few sightseers visit the town to win themselves to affability. The bucks, who squat along the changing river banks in their straw hats and Jeans, idle the year round, are, in fact, positively discourteous to the stranger. After one has left one’s belongings at the hotel and started to explore, Yuma is found to be Interesting for what it lacks in modernity. There is practically but one long street This is lined ’frith low one and two story cottages, built of frame, and housing, almost without exception, saloons and shops, in addition to the homes of the householders. There is a fair public school building and a Catholic church. The latter is interesting for its Indian communicants, who come there as did the red men to the missions In the Pre-Mexi-can days In California. At the time of day that you are out Yuma Is still half In its slumbers. Aside from a flight of crows on the main highway, the quiet of dawn reigns supreme. You can walk over the entire place in ah hour, and you do so while you mar, unobserved. There are lemons growing in one garden, the first you encounter. Today it is cold until the sun has risen, but then, and in summer, Yuma Is, next to Death valley, the hottest place in the world, so that you may look for tropical foliage. You wonder at the foolish custom of the milkmen of Yuma, who knock at each door until told by the tenants to leave the milk outside, a custom whose origin lies shrouded In mystery. Two women, seemingly Intoxicated, attract your attention. They are following a man, expostulating as only Mexicans'can. it I* to the Jail that the women ar*

directing their footsteps. One is weeping, the other seems angry. Both begin pleading with the jailer. Last night the husband of the weeping woman came home furiously drunk and began using a knife upon her. So the police were called and now he is here. She. however, had no idea it was so vile a place, and now she has come to beg his release. Finally she become* convinced that her pleadings are in vain and she and her friends depart. The environs of the town attract. In the rainy season, when the narrow, dark brown, shrunken Colorado rage* beneath the great iron bridge of the railway, steamers run to the gulf and up river. Then one may take one of the most Interesting trips In the west. Where Rain I* Unknown. Over the bridge lies the Indiafi reservation, and on Its borders Is an interesting primitive corral for th* horses. Of course no roof to the shed is needed, for It practically never rains in Yuma, and the stages themselves consist of three open wagonettes, th* covers of which have long since been lost. You get a new idea of Indian control in the southwest as you step past the corral. There Is a sign forbidding whites to proceed, unless they have legitimate business with the Indians, and stating a heavy penalty for trading with the redskins. Furthermore, it i* forbidden to enter the reservation without a permit The whole arrangement seems well nigh despotic. The Yumas live in a sort of forbidden land. .Squaws,’with’the gay colored blankets, pass out. Old men, with their hair down their backs In Innumerable braids, saunter in or stop to watch the stages being harnessed, and perhap* to lend an Indolent hand to hitching the four horses. The homes of these Indians are picturesque, If nothing else. One find* almost everywhere th* primitive adobes in little groups or else mile* from the nearest neighbor. Some ar* on the open desert, where the summer sun beats in fury; others are hidden away in the tall, narrow "weed prairie. Basically, each hut is square, while from the front there extend* a roof of dry brush and mud to a pole at either corner. Under this hut the gayly clad redskin* squat. Dogs are everywhere, noiseless as their owners. Children likewise are numerous, and their quiet demeanor makes them even most conspicuous, strange as that may seem. Two Indian boys will occasionally gallop past on a horse, otherwise the reservation seems to. repose In perpetual quiet. Maybe it’s the heat .that drives folk to silence; It’* like the lethargy of a midsummer noon hour. At any rate, It saps all the strength from you and you’ve neither energy nor desire to stir when among the redskin* atYuma.