It all started in a used book store in Phoenix. I was browsing a shelf in the store's Southwest section when a title caught my eye: Some Strange Corners of Our Country. Something about the title was odd. It struck me as a little too, gee whiz, for a modern travel writer.
As I flipped the pages, old fashioned engravings of Sonoran desert scenery drew me in. I was especially charmed by some gloomy, Gothic-looking prints in a chapter entitled, “The Grandest Gorge in the World”. This chapter introduced readers to an attraction known as the “Grand Cañon” (the unusual Spanish enyay spelling adding intrigue). Flipping ahead further I found chapters such as, "The Witches' Corner", and "Homes That Were Forts". I realized I was holding a travel guide to the wonders of the Southwest originally published in 1891, an age that could fairly be called the region's "pioneer days". Sold.
Why is a hundred year old Southwest guide book so alluring? I think it was the hope of getting a little closer to the experience of the people who were among the first to see these sights. I wanted to get closer to the time when you couldn't hop in an air conditioned car and be at the rim of the Grand Canyon in a couple hours, stopping for burgers on the way. 1891 is really old when you consider how much the region has changed in a relatively short period. Infrastructure and population in the Southwest have increased exponentially in the last 100 years. During WWII the population of Arizona was 499,000 (400,000 of whom lived in Phoenix alone). Since then the population has grown 12-fold to 6.2 million.
1891 is early enough that adequate food, water, lodging and transportation were a matter of serious consideration for the prospective visitor of the Southwest's wonders. For example, the author felt the "Grandest Gorge" chapter warranted the following remarks:
"There are comfortable hotels in Flagstaff, the stages are comfortable, the three relays of horses make the sixty-seven-mile journey easily in eleven hours [yikes!], and there is nothing in the trip to deter ladies or young people. [other than the eleven hour stage ride]"
The Southwest was still being discovered by mainstream America. A major theme of the book is "Did you even know this existed right in your backyard?" As proof that the details of the Southwest were still seeping into the consciousness of Americans, I will point out that the Grand Canyon was not yet the Grand Canyon. Say to an American of the late 1880's that you were going to the Grand Canyon, and they might not be sure what you were talking about. It could be the "Grand Canyon of the Arkansaw," the "Grand Canyon of Yellowstone," or the "Grand Canyon of the Colorado".
Here's what endeared Charles F. Lummis to me as I read this first chapter in Some Strange Corners on the plane back to Chicago. He understood that the only reason the Grand Canyon was not yet THE Grand Canyon, was that people hadn't seen it yet. Once they did, there would be no other Grand Canyon. This is the spirit that is captured in his book: Lummis himself has seen these things, and he knows how special they are, and he earnestly, earnestly, wants his readers to go see them.
Am I romanticizing the West, am I trying to get back to a mythological West that never really existed? No. Some Strange Corners is not an unvarnished account of the West, but it is much closer than most lay people like myself ever get to the actual Old West.
1891 is early enough that adequate food, water, lodging and transportation were a matter of serious consideration for the prospective visitor of the Southwest's wonders. For example, the author felt the "Grandest Gorge" chapter warranted the following remarks:
"There are comfortable hotels in Flagstaff, the stages are comfortable, the three relays of horses make the sixty-seven-mile journey easily in eleven hours [yikes!], and there is nothing in the trip to deter ladies or young people. [other than the eleven hour stage ride]"
The Southwest was still being discovered by mainstream America. A major theme of the book is "Did you even know this existed right in your backyard?" As proof that the details of the Southwest were still seeping into the consciousness of Americans, I will point out that the Grand Canyon was not yet the Grand Canyon. Say to an American of the late 1880's that you were going to the Grand Canyon, and they might not be sure what you were talking about. It could be the "Grand Canyon of the Arkansaw," the "Grand Canyon of Yellowstone," or the "Grand Canyon of the Colorado".
Here's what endeared Charles F. Lummis to me as I read this first chapter in Some Strange Corners on the plane back to Chicago. He understood that the only reason the Grand Canyon was not yet THE Grand Canyon, was that people hadn't seen it yet. Once they did, there would be no other Grand Canyon. This is the spirit that is captured in his book: Lummis himself has seen these things, and he knows how special they are, and he earnestly, earnestly, wants his readers to go see them.
Am I romanticizing the West, am I trying to get back to a mythological West that never really existed? No. Some Strange Corners is not an unvarnished account of the West, but it is much closer than most lay people like myself ever get to the actual Old West.
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