Ghost of Dutchman's Gold

October 6, 2014 © Thomas J. Kollenborn. All Rights Reserved.

Stalactites form from dripping liquids and cling to the
ceilings of a cave while stalagmites build up from
the drippings on the floor of caves.

Phoenix was the center of a mystery that entwined the apparent prosaic present with one of the most well-known, exciting legends of early mining in Arizona territory near the turn of the century. Arizona abounds in tales and legends—wild and fanciful—told by storytellers at many campfires (and in many barrooms) of fabulous wealth and lost mines. The tale of the Dutchman’s Lost Mine is probably more familiar to Arizonans than any other.

The tale of the Dutchman has been told in one form or another from one end of the state to the other. One tale places the mine in the Mazatzal Range, near Four Peaks, another credits it to the Harquahalas, while other stories assert that the lost gold mine is located in the Superstition Mountains. Some men claim there were three mysterious “Dutchmen” connected to the legend, while others tell of a lone miner and his burro. All agree, however, that the mine was of fabulous richness, a true bonanza deposit.

Some claim the Dutchman had a mulatto wife, who resided in Phoenix and that she had a map to the location of his mine. Again, others claim he had a Native American wife, who led him to his rich mine in the Superstitions. Documents indicate Jacob Waltz, the Dutchman, was never married. It is this mine that so many men have searched for and yet the mine remains lost today. An appropriate question would be: Did the mine ever exist? The following is an interesting tale.

Jose Perez (Periz) was prospecting in the eastern portion of the Superstition Mountains in 1913 when he discovered a deep canyon. One day while riding down the rocky bottom of this rugged canyon, whose sheer walls towered far above him, Perez noticed a slight indentation in a stratum of limestone rock that appeared to be an entrance to a small cavern. Curiosity overcame him and he decided to investigate. 

Perez found a small opening about two feet in diameter far above the canyon floor. The opening led directly into the mountain. He crawled into the opening for a distance of about twenty feet when the cave suddenly opened into an immense chamber. This enormous chamber, in which a man could walk upright, led directly into the heart of the mountain. 

Perez used matches and a number of Agave torches to light his way into the cavern. Deep in the cavern Perez found a large flat rock. On this rock Perez found several nuggets of high-grade gold placed in the form of a dagger or stiletto and above this on the rocky walls of the cavern were some crudely drawn Cabalistic signs.

Perez left the cave and quickly returned to Miami, the nearest town for a man onhorseback.

He told his tale to Ray Thomas, Gila County Engineer, at the time. Thomas believed Perez and wanted to return to the cavern with him.

Perez, Thomas and a newspaperman returned to the site for a complete examination. When the three men reached the site they proceeded to investigate what Perez had reported. 

Thomas later reported the cavern did lead back into the mountain for about two hundred yards however there was no visible sign of mineralization.

Thomas further reported there were signs of previous occupancy in the cavern. The mouth of the cave was so small and situated at such an angle that only by the greatest accident could it have been discovered from the canyon below. Thomas and the reporter returned to Miami and Perez went his lonesome way.

Ray Thomas, several years later, discussed his trip to the cave with Perez. Thomas recapped the expedition to the cave in the following way.

Newspaper clipping from
the Mesa Tribune, March 22, 1935.

“The entrance to the cavern was about 250 feet above the canyon floor in a thicket of Manzanita that would discourage a mother cow looking for her calf.  How Jose found this cavern is beyond my imagination. Nobody would have climbed this cliff just to search for a cave.  The actual entrance to the cave is so small it is dangerous to enter it. As we made our way into the cavern, we found several large chambers, one measuring more than forty feet in height with stalagmites of nine to fifteen feet and stalactites of 10 feet or more.

In one chamber, there was a massive flow of travertine drapery of some forty or more feet. Near this travertine flow were masses of calcite crystals that looked like a wall of diamonds in our subdued light source. The cavern, or at least that portion we explored, extended back into the mountain some seven hundred feet. By no means had we found the end of this limestone solution cave. Poor health had prevented me from returning to the cave for further exploration. The cavern will undoubtedly become another wonder of this central mountain region of Arizona.”

Twenty years later an old prospector by the name of Joe Modock stumbled across this cave in 1935 and claimed he found a diamond mine in Arizona’s Superstition Mountains. His diamonds turned out to be calcite crystals.

This large cavern in the Superstition Wilderness Area will probably be explored one day and turn out to be another Arizona natural wonder. This could be the same cavern some call the “Cave of a Thousand Eyes.” The secrecy of its location helps protects the cavern from profiteers and vandals.

The Mission Bell

September 29, 2014 © Thomas J. Kollenborn. All Rights Reserved.

The Superstition Mountain Jesuit Mission story has a lot of believers, and storytellers love to expand on the tale. Again, I would like to emphasize the fact the Jesuit Order had no church mission above the Gila River, contrary to all the stories and tales told by local storytellers. The first stories about Jesuits Missions with gold treasures began popping up in the mid-1920s and possibly even earlier.

My previous column was about an alleged mission or visita located near Peralta Road and the old Burns Ranch. There were also stories about eight gold mines in the area that the Jesuits supposedly had the Native Americans working in. Like all gold stories these tales had no credibility. However, people wanted to believe them and searched for the Jesuit gold buried in the area. The expulsion of the Jesuits from Mexico occurred in 1757 and created many of these gold tales.

Now, the story of the ancient bronze church bell allegedly found along the north bank of Queen Creek was not too far from the old concrete bridge on old U.S. Highway 60. I heard the first mention of this bell in 1961. I was out at Apacheland shortly after Sharon had purchased some stock in the Superstition Mountain Enterprises. You might say, as a young couple, we were checking out our investment.

We were impressed at what we saw and figured someday this would be another “Old Tucson.” It was to be a “land of make believe” about the old West. It was here in the Cowboy Steakhouse that we heard our first story about a Jesuit church bell found along the banks of Queen Creek.

Julian King, our Apache-land stockbroker (so to speak) introduced us to a young, good-looking man with sharp facial features, tall, and a somewhat gaunt gunfighter-actor. His name was Robert Lee Ward. We were thrilled to meet one of the actors at Apacheland. When Julian departed our company, Mr. Ward sat down and started treating us like important Apacheland investors. I am sure he thought we had a little money.

He talked about the Superstition Mountains and many different treasure stories. I never mentioned to him at the time that I worked on the Quarter Circle U Ranch just three years prior to our conversation. Ward was a temporary gunfighter-actor they hired on weekends to entertain the tourists who visited Apacheland. It wasn’t long before this gunfighter-actor began to tell us about the Spanish Mission near the old Burns Ranch and how he had searched for the church treasure in the area. He informed us the church bronze bell was found on the north bank of Queen Creek. The finding of the mission bell convinced Ward the church site near the Burns Ranch was authentic. It was from this point on we continued to meet various people that talked about this old mission bell and a mission near Superstition Mountain.

At the time we didn’t think much of it because we had just gotten married and we were busy trying to establish a household and finding a decent place to live. Several years later, I stopped at a local Apache Junction eatery called the Lost Dutchman Café. I ordered a hamburger and inquired about a place to rent. We wanted to move back to Apache Junction. The man behind the counter didn’t know of any places for rent. As I was eating my hamburger an elderly gentleman came up and ask me if he could sit down. He knew I had worked for Bill Barkley out at the Quarter Circle U Ranch. We started talking and I soon found out he was a prospector. His name was Robert L. Garman. He started talking about prospecting the mountains around the area. I ask if he had ever heard of a Spanish mission in the area. He said “yes” there were several stories about one between Queen Creek and Superstition Mountain. All of a sudden this Spanish Mission thing was not just one man’s story. Garman was a strong believer in the Peralta Stone Maps that were found near Black Point just north of Queen Creek.

Many years later I was told the old church bell still existed and was sort of on display at the Boyce Thompson Arboretum near Superior. Several local treasure hunters and prospector swore this was the mission bell that was found on the north bank of Queen Creek.

This bell can be seen in the Smith Building at the Arboretum. This bell is not the old mission bell and has nothing to do with the Spanish mission period in the Southwest. However, a lot of old time treasure hunters believe it is part of the Spanish mission period in this region. Those who really believe in missions, stone maps, bells, and buried gold only see the facts they want to see. Usually, all other facts are discarded.

If you drive out to the Boyce Thompson Arboretum near Superior, don’t be looking for treasure unless you enjoy the beauty of arid desert plants from around the world. You can spend a day enjoying the Arboretum and say, “Well, I saw that bell and it is not a mission bell.”

The Magnificent Burro

September 15, 2014 © Thomas J. Kollenborn. All Rights Reserved.

A very young Tom Kollenborn with his “trusty steed”
in Apache Junction’s burro race.
Photo from January 1958 or 1959.

Nostalgia is an interesting thing. When one begins to reminisce about the past they usually think of those things that have fascinated or enlightened them in some way. Since childhood I have had a special place in my heart for animals, Burros in particular. My first real home was in Christmas, Arizona.

I arrived there in April of 1944, before Christmas I had lived in Globe, Tonto Basin and Payson. This small, rough looking mining camp, clinging to the side of the Dripping Springs Mountains, was quite a site for a six-year old boy filled with dreams of adventure. The drive up Christmas Hill to the heart of the old mining camp was an exciting ride for me. The road was steep and rough. I wasn’t sure Mrs. Lewis’ old car would make it up the hill.

To the left of the road was a large ore-crushing mill, still covered with its gray, tarnished and rusting tin, and to the right side was a large yellow-looking tailings dump. Up the road a short distance from the old mill was the community store. Its old porch appeared creaky and run down, but there was activity near its doors. The steps were worn from decades of use by miners and their families. Miners stood on the porch drinking cold beer. Cars parked below the steps leading to the front door of the store appeared frozen in time.

The store was the center of community activity. Giant green-leaved Cottonwood trees grew everywhere water was available. Their shade was a welcome umbrella to all on this warm spring morning. The spores of the Broom brush gently floated on the breeze.

You could hear the hum of the Black gnats. Bees and Yellow Jacket wasps worked the flowers and drank from leaking old water pipes. The water pipes wandered about the old mining town on the surface of the ground like giant rusty old snakes. The ground was far too rocky to dig trenches and their old leaking joints provided a temporary oasis for plants and animals.

Burros wandered about the town’s abandoned rustic buildings that were in various stages of degradation. The burros were into this and into that searching for a meal, often making a nuisance with their presence. The town’s population accepted the burros, because the people who lived in Christmas were primarily Hispanics in origin. The Burro was a significant part of their culture south of the border in Mexico.

Christmas was a mining town. Like all mines in those days they were being worked primarily by Hispanics from Mexico. The language spoken around the cap lamp room and at Peterson’s store was Spanish.

Most Americans had been drafted to fight the war in Europe and the South Pacific. My father had served in France during World War I and was too old for World War II. He was the mine foreman at Christmas. His main job was to hire timber men, miners, and powder men out of Mexico. Father was a man with a varied background and desire for adventure.  My future looked very promising as I rode into Christmas that day with Mrs. Lewis’ in her somewhat vintage 1931 Ford Coupe.

It wasn’t long before I became acquainted with the local town burros.  I would watch the Mexican boys ride the burros with no problem.  Finally one day I caught one of the burros by offering greens from my dad’s garden.  I soon fashioned a rope halter and I was riding a burro.  It wasn’t long before the burro got tired of my antics and gave me a little crow-hop and I was on my backsides. I ran home with skinned elbows and knees crying to my mother who was quite upset about the burros being in town now. She considered them a danger to her small son.

I continued to ride the burros for some time, but several months later all the burros were rounded up and hauled off to Hayden and given to the Mexicans around San Pedro. I am sure my mother was behind the “great burro roundup.”  I was six years old when I first got acquainted with these burros, but I have never forgotten the animals since. Their ability to recognize a person is comparable to that of a dog. One burro that had befriended me would come to me anytime I uttered a whistle, expecting something from my father’s garden.

My mother constantly tried to discourage my interest in burros. She told me the Mexicans kept burros because they made a sandwich out their meat called a “Burrito”. She also told me I could catch worms, ticks and lice from burros. I was almost convinced of these tall tales, until one of my Mexican friends named Rudy Valencia told me it wasn’t true. Even my dad agreed with Rudy.

There were a couple smart burros that survived the infamous Christmas roundup and hid out along the Gila River.  I found these burros one day and continue my burro riding days.

When I worked on the Quarter Circle U Ranch they had several burros. Barkley used burros for a variety of tasks on the ranch. He actually had used them for packing salt into the backcountry of his ranch. I still had a lot of respect for Burros. Barkley told me thousands of burros were used at the Silver King Mine to pack wood to the mills. He also said many hundreds of burros were used during the construction of Roosevelt Dam. Several years later when I was looking over some photographs taken of the Roosevelt Dam site by Walter J. Lubkin, I found burros in many of the photographs. The burro played an important role in early Arizona history.

One of the most interesting experiences I had while working at the Quarter Circle U Ranch was entering the burro race in Apache Junction. I believe it was in February of 1958 or 59.

I represented Chic Jones’ Lucky Nugget Tavern in Apache Junction’s first Burro Derby. I will never forget that first day. We were all lined up and everyone was taking photographs. I even got my picture taken with a Burro representing Chic Jones’ business. Chic figured I would win the Burro Derby because of my long legs and cowboy experience. I forgot to tell Chic most cowboys knew very little about burros. 

The race was seven miles long. I completed the race, but my feet were covered with blisters. Ironically, I had worn a pair of cowboy boots and ran seven miles in them. Oh yes, I will explain the running of the burros. 

When the gun sounded the beginning of the race my burro was in no hurry to go anywhere. I chatted with him for a while, than got behind him and he finally took off and I chased him for the rest of the race. I spent almost two hours running and jogging to keep up with my burro that wanted to catch the leader of the herd for some reason.

Later I discovered the lead burro was my burro’s mother. Also it is important to know burros are herd animals. Chic bought me a steak dinner at the close of the race. Reward enough for my ignorance about racing burros. I believe we came in about seventh.  

After my experience at the Quarter Circle U Ranch in Pinal County and the Burro Derby in Apache Junction, the next time I came across burros they were in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I made my first trip down the Colorado River in the late 1960’s with Tour West.

Above Diamond Creek there were a lot of wild burros on the shore. The jack’s would challenge anyone who tried to land on the beaches.  These burros were the descendents of the burros released by prospectors in the Grand Canyon almost a hundred years ago. These small herds had survived almost a century in this hostile and remote environment.

Eventually the National Park Service had the burros removed from the “canyon” by helicopter. Ironically the average age of the burros was ten years.  These burros had adapted their species to the rugged environs of the Grand Canyon where temperatures soared to 120 *F in the summer months. Their forage was limited to minimal plants of the Sonoran Desert, but yet they survived a century in the Grand Canyon before being removed.

Our nation, our way of life is slowly being changed, but the burro somehow has managed to survive. The burro has become an icon of the American Southwest and the prospector, and the burro and prospector was the icon of Apache Junction for many years.

Today we can still see this iconic symbol outside the City Council offices in Apache Junction and behind the Focal Point at the junction of Apache Trail and the Old West Highway.

Burros were used for prospecting throughout the Superstition Mountain region from 1870 until the late 1950’s.

The Walter Lubkin, USRS photographer, recorded burros at work in the Superstition Mountain’s along First Water Trail in 1908 and through out the Salt River area during the construction of Roosevelt Dam. 

Cecil Stewart “Superstition Joe” and his brother Vernon Stewart prospected the Superstition Mountains for almost three decades and used only burros for their packing and riding. During the 1970’s and 1980’s Superstition Joe was often seen at Mining Camp Road and the Apache Trail with his wagon and team of burros. Many of the early ranchers used burros for packing on the rugged trails of the Superstition Mountain region. 

The burro is an animal that is smarter than a horse or a mule. The burro will survive in the worst of conditions. He can drop thirty per cent of his body weight due to dehydration and can still survive. Horses or mules will perish when they lose fifteen per cent of their body weight due to dehydration.

Today we still find a few small herds of burros scattered around Arizona. The most notable herd is in Oatman, on old Highway 66 near Kingman. Other herds can be found in Southern Arizona. 

Few burros roam public lands in Arizona anymore. Hopefully the burro will survive because of a few people who love these adorable animals and will accept the challenge to care for them and hopefully insure their future existence. Given the chance, a burro makes an adorable pet and caring for them teaches children responsibility. 

 Burros were used for prospecting throughout the Superstition Mountain region from 1870 until the late 1950’s.