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It’s Party Time-It’s Party Time-Sunday December 9th-2pmSunday December 9th-2pm

Pleasebring yourfavorite

dish toaccompnythe hamand turkey

El CronicónEl Cronicón

President:Ken Kloeppel Editor: Roy C. Skeens

Official Quarterly Publication of theSANDOVAL COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY

Volume 23, No4 December, 2012

Time to eat,drink and be merry

with friends old and

new.

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Hola Amigos,Once again the people of our county, state, and entire country

are asked to select leaders that will make and uphold laws that aregoing to keep our lives balanced and our future bright.

One of the many obvious outcomes of our monthly speakers, isthat historically many leaders have been both good and bad. Onething history is supposed to teach is that if something went badly,don't do it again! If something went well, repeat it.

If people have different viewpoints, look at the positive pointsand keep an open mind. Whoever gains the upper hand this fall let'shope that these leaders are in place for the good and well being of thepeople and not for personal gain.

History does repeat itself, but let's hope that good repeats thistime around and bad falls by the wayside.

Mil Gracias, Ken Kloeppel

President’s Message

Check out our web site that BenBlackwell puts together for all currentinformation on the Society:

www.sandovalhistory.org/

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December, 2012

SEPTEMBER MEETING

On Sunday we were honored bya visit from past -President Wm.Taft in the person of Montie Avery( who played the role to perfection) .He told us a lot about his background :he was born on September 19th, 1857 inCincinnati into a family of politics andpubic service.After graduating from Cincinnati Law School he began a life in law and publicand foreign service : US Solitor General,service on the US Cicuit Court,Governor General of the Philipines,Secretary of War. Visits to Cuba andPanama.After being pushed by Teddy Roosevelthe was elected president in 1908 withthe inauguration on March 4t.h 1909.As president he had a number of firsts:

Appointed a women-JuliaLathrop head of the Labor Dept.

Threw out 1st baseball at theopening day of a Washington Senatorsgame.

First to own a horseless carriage, - aStanley Steamer, then a Pierce Arrow.

He well remembers the day of January 6th

,1912 when he signed the proclamation mak-

ing New Mexico the 47th state.All the comfort food in the White House did-n’t help his already overweight frame to theextent that he got stuck in the bathtub . (he lost150# after leaving the White House).Not re-elected and later became Chief Justiceof the United States ( 1921-1930).He died in 1930 from complications of heartdisease

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OCTOBER MEETING

On Sunday , Pat McCraw , local authorand editor of the community paper“South valley Ink “gave us the true storyof turquoise . Working from letters writtenby her great grandfather , Irish immi-grant James McNulty she related the trialsand tribulations he faced as superinten-dant of the Tiffany turqoise mines out-side Cerrillos. It was an amazing story of great fortitudein the face of politcal intrigue, land claimschemers and midnight visits by thepueblo Indians.The story can be told because her greatgrandfather ssiduously kept all his corre-spondence, and her grandmother ,Fannie, in her turn , carefully preservedthat archive .Pat showed some of the leters and sam-ples of Turquoise.Many questions were raised from theaudience and one member showed aturqoise ring, inscribed by Tiffany thathad been in her family for generations.

In Pat’s bookmany of the actu-al letters arereproduced

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BOOK REVIEWBy John J. Hunt

Down the Santa Fe Trail and into Mexico. by

Susan Shelby Magoffin, Yale University Press, 1962

December, 2012

Continued

the American takeover of 1846. Just her itinerary would have

taken tremendous courage to tackle,especially for a sheltered, pious protes-tant, for on the journey she endured themerciless sun, the dust, the insects,wolves, lack of food and water—not tomention the foul epithets of the team-sters—and of course the constant threatof Indians. This was 1846 and theAmerican Southwest was very muchpopulated with many Indian tribes—some friendly, others not.

To add to these travails, along theway she very subtly tells us she’s preg-nant. I cannot imagine that the constant,abrupt, rocky and uneven motion of thecarriages and wagons she rode in wouldnot affect a fetus. What road there was inplaces was treacherous, and many timesthe ox-drawn vehicles capsized—includ-ing Mrs. Magoffin’s.

It turns out her brother-in-lawwas James Magoffin, the man who man-aged the almost bloodless takeover ofNew Mexico, who had been authorizedby President Polk to persuade GovernorManual Armijo to peacefully head southand allow the United States military totake over the territory. With this in mind,her observances have given us a goodpicture of what it took to accomplish thisfeat—all because she truly loved her hus-

I’ve been checking out the Society’slibrary again and found another uniquetitle that has become a part of our state’shistory, written by a woman, an uncom-mon event at that time.

Down the Santa Fe Trail and intoMexico was first published in 1926, longafter the poor girl who had written it haddied after giving birth to her fourthdaughter, who was named after herself.

She was only twenty-seven. Her book is a hand-written testa-

ment and the author’s name is SusanShelby Magoffin, without a doubt the firstwhite, Anglo woman to come and experi-ence life in the nascent territory andobserve it in detail, as well as write aboutit, “…a pert, observant young lady ofwealth and fashion,” says Howard Lamarin the foreword of the book she literallywrote while enduring the not-insubstantialprivations and disasters that accompanysuch a sojourn.

Susan was an eighteen-year-oldnewly-wed, rolling down the prairie fromIndependence, a city in Missouri, follow-ing up General Kearny’s “Army of TheWest” down the Santa Fe Trail to witness

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band, and would follow him anywhere.When she says, “My journal tells a storydifferent from what it has ever donebefore” she understood that she was leav-ing everything she had ever knownbehind. Love was a large part of her rea-soning.

Her first house on wheels waswell appointed and luxurious, withtables, cabinets, stools and carpets. Herdresser was covered with the accou-trements of feminine care, as well as herbible and journal. She slept on a campbed made up every night with sheets andpillows.

I am tempted to tell you more ofher story, but reading her words adds tothe effect the book has. Today her bookis a historical document. And at timesthe trip sounded like a biblical plaguestory. “Come my feeble pen, put on theyspecks and assist this full head to unbur-then itself! Thou hast a longer story thanis usual to tell. How we left Camp 19 yes-terday morning after a sleepless night,our tent was pitched in the mosquitoregion and when will the God Somnusmake his appearance in such quarters? Itwas slap, slap, all the time, from oneparty of the combatants, while the otherscame with a buz (sic) and a bite.”

It’s still fascinating to read herpersonalized stories, as she brings thepast to life.

A man died of “consumption”—

tuberculosis—and only the previous dayshe had sent him some soup. Theypassed “Pawnee Rock” where Susan triedhastily to carve her name, but she began“to tremble all over” at the thought of anIndian attack. There were antelope,wolves, bison and rattlesnakes. Ragingstorms, flooding, and drought followedthem. At Ash Creek the carriage toppledover the bank and crashed into thestreambed. She was knocked out butSamuel saved her. She got sick but theyarrived at Bent’s Fort, where their race-track put her off, and, she forecast, “…Ishall not be surprised to hear of a cock-pit.”

While living in her dirt floorapartment in the fort, she must havebeen thinking of the trip so far when shewrote; “I have concluded that the Plainsare not very beneficial to my health sofar; for I am thinner by a good many lbs.than when I came out. The dear knowswhat is the cause!”

Susan was undaunted howeverand her imagination fully intact. Duringthe evenings she would take walks andalways had an eye for nature. Herdescriptions of nature are romantic, butshe could not tarry, the oxen and themen pushed on, clearing rocks andbrush, the men plying the great beastswith whips and shouts, and warilysearching the clouds over the eastern

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Continued

mountains for foul weather.Her prairie train finally came

down through Raton Pass and there wasa pleasant change in the atmosphere,even though every few yards large boul-ders impeded the way. She was “sur-rounded by most magnificent scenery.On all sides are stupendous mountains,forming an entire breast-work to our lit-tle camp situated in the valley below.” Shewas describing the bold landscapes ofNew Mexico, and without realizing,putting names on the map.

“[A] great rock towering aboveeverything around. This, mi alma,”—hersoul, as she affectionately nicknamed her45-year-old husband with whom she wasmadly in love—“calls ‘the wagonmound’…which derives its name fromthe resemblance to the top of a coveredwagon.”

From here it took them seventeendays to reach Santa Fe. When they finallyarrived General Kearny had been therefor two weeks and had already raised thestars and stripes over the old Spanishcapital.

She was happy, nonetheless.“I have entered the city in a year

that will always be remembered by mycountrymen; and under the ‘Star-Spangled Banner’ too, the first Americanlady, who has come under such aus-pices…”

Most interesting are her impres-sions of the players in the great expan-sionist opera that had been created inWashington by President Polk andSenator Benton. As Lamar says, “Mrs.Magoffin’s encounters with the workingsof Manifest Destiny were far from casu-al.” Indeed, she was at the seat of powerand she knew it.

Her descriptions of GeneralKearny and her brother in law, as well asa number of Kearny’s officers, such asGeneral Price, who the following yearwould put down the Taos Revolt, as wellas the major players in the Mexican War,Doniphan, Wool, and General ZacharyTaylor—old “Rough and Ready”—whoshe seemed to like.

She relates that he talked a greatdeal, handed out cake and champagne,but she was “most agreeably disappoint-ed” that the General dressed in “hisfamed old gray sack coat, striped cottontrousers and blue calico neck-kerchief.”She was disappointed because all the wildstories she had heard of him she nowthought false. She had expected a back-woodsman, instead she found theGeneral “polite, affable and altogetheragreeable.”

Not only the historic figures comeinto her purview, but the many charmingSenoras who visited with her, tradinggossip and food, and the children who

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JANUARY: Sunday January 13thPat McC raw returns with more detailsabout mining turquoise at the turn of thecentury. She will talk about pueblo Indianraids and corrupt politicians

FEBRUARY: Sunday February 10thJohn Hunt, Author and historian will talkabout famed wartime columist Ernie Pyle

MARCH: Sunday March 10thGeologist Dirk Van Hart will give aPower Point presentation on the geologyalong Hwy 550

All programs start at 2PM

El Cronicón

she was enamored of. Also, her inductioninto the realms of Catholicism, whichwas the religion that surrounded her, andwhich she did not judge. She was, howev-er, an ardent Presbyterian.

Of course Susan’s travels did notend in Santa Fe, but continued down theinfamous trail and into Chihuahuá, inMexico. Her journal ends in Septemberof 1847. While at Matamoras she camedown with Yellow Fever, a viral infectiontransmitted by mosquitoes and whileafflicted with the sickness—she gavebirth to a son, who died soon after.

They returned to Lexington,Kentucky, but the strain and sickness ofthe arduous trip had very serious conse-quences for the young mother’s health,and no doubt was why she passed awaygiving birth in 1855, at such a young age.

Her book, as I have said, waspublished in 1926, and is a testament offaith and perseverance—and love. Wecan remember Susan Magoffin as thefirst in a long line of women who havecome to know and experience this place.We can also say she was a victim of therigors of the pioneer spirits who werefirst attracted to the Land ofEnchantment, and we can thank her forleaving us her precious record.

Photo Albums

Virginia Ortiz does a great job ofmaintaining our photo albums. Checkthem out.

UUpcoming Programs

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December, 2012

You will find this historic marker onthe East side of Hwy 313 at thesouth end of town

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MEMBERSHIP

RENEWAL

Please te

ar out and

mail - aho

ra !

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December, 2012

THE BLUE-EYED NAVAJO

an interview by Sam McIlhaney

( Continued)

We pick up the story from whereOlin died in 1954 and the storycarries on about his son Leonard.

Trading posts in the Southwest Were

offspring of the reservation system.

These were unfortified stores which

replaced the old trading posts. These

stores came into being after warring and

nomadic tribes were confined within cer-

tainboundaries. It was’t planned that

way. The trading posts were simply a

logical answer to a logical need.

Therefore, trading posts did not appear

in the Southwest until 1868 when the

Navajos were placed on the vast reserva-

tion. The men who built and operated

theposts were apt to be individualists,

indeed.

The Indians were usually many milesfrom a town or another store and, there-fore, that store must be a one-stop placefor groceries, hardware, clothing, farmequipment, wagons, harness, bridles,saddles, livestock medicine and gasoline.

In return, the store would buy from theIndian customer anything that that per-son had to sell or trade: . arts and crafts,hides and furs, lambs, any other type oflivestock, farm products, wood andpiñions.

Leonard Walker. said “that the traderplayed an important part in improvingthe livelihood of the Navajo tribe andbelieved that the public should realizethis”. He said, “The trader had to be abanker, an advisor, a counselor, a person

who could help bury their dead, andeven a legal advisor. The traders, yearsago, got together and formed the IndianTraders Association to stimulate publicdemand and interest and a market forIndian arts and crafts. Most tradersjoined. M.L. Woodard w as the manag-er. of Coolidge, New Mexico, for exam-ple, worked very hard in the organizationin creating markets. The Assocation setup standards for the arts and crafts andcaused the quality to improve. Out ofthis, you see, the trader had a lot to dowith bringing about quality improve-ments and, therefore, the trader helpedthe fame of the Navajo product to bespread far and wide.

A trading post was a one-stop placefor other reasons: mail and also for thesocial life. The post was a place to getinformation as well. The whiteman’ sworld was often a mystery to the tribalmember. A trader was someone they

Continued

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could talk to who represented that world.If the trader did not know the answer, hewould get it. Contrary to what one mayread from time to time, contrary to whatone may see in a Clint Eastwood movie,according to Leonard Walker, The traderand the Indian got along real well; theNavajo needed the trader and liked thetrader and the other way around. Ofcourse, there were crooked traders butthey would be found out sooner or laterand wouldn’t last long.”

For some, the life of an Indian tradercould be a narrow one, seeing only hiscustomers and Indian Service Employeesfrom time to time. (Today, that govern-mental agency is known as the Bureau ofIndian Affairs). But for Leonard, therewere conspensations for a life of isola-tion. He always supplied all the coffeeour customers could drink during thewinter months and the post was a meet-ing place for them. A trader could write abook from the stories he would hear.

From this life of isolation as a boyworking for his father, working as a storeowner, and later working for his brother,Leonard learned the Indian ways andbecame acquainted in th many leadersand future leaders of the Navajo Tribe. Imet Paul Jones who would later becomeTribal Council Chairman. I always con-sidered that a privilege. I traded withHosteen Klah, the great medicine man.Klah did his best to preserve for futuregenerations what he knew by attempting

to train several men in his lifetime. Totrain a medicine man takes fifteen ortwenty years and each man he started totrain died before the training was com-plete. The Hail Chant, for example, isnot known in its entirety because someof it went to the grave with Klah.”

Leonard continues, “Hosteen Klah taughtme a lot in the ceremonies and songs andsome dances and even some about sandpaintings. He was one of the few Navajomen who wove rugs.”

Other Navajo leaders who influencedLeonard as a young man were men suchas the medicine man Hosteen Beal andHenry Chee Dodge. “l believe Beal wasa sortof psychic and possessed ESP. I saythis based on my personal experienceswith him.” The tribal council form ofgovernment on the Navajo Reservationwas set up by Henry Chee Dodge. Thisgovernment Has recognized by Congressin an act adopted in 1950 but too late forDodge to have his dream come true. Hedied in 1946.

“ Chee Dodge was as good a friend as aman could want, ” said Leonard. “ Heknew me since I was a baby. No matterwhere I was, he would always come tosee me.” As a young man, Dodge wasthe interpreter during the BeautifulMountain Uprising. Years later, whileLeonard was a trader and working for hisbrother at the Fort Defiance Trading Postin Arizona, Dodge was dying in a hospi-tal bed at Ganado, Arizona. ”l went prac-tically every day and visited him. I was

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with him when he died. One day, helooked up at me from his bed and said,“Leonard, you’re a blue-eyed Navajo. ”

In 1930, young Leonard Has just out ofFarmingtonHigh School.The ownerof the storeat Klagetoh,Arizona,neededsomeone tooperate hisstore.Because ofillness in hisfamily, theownerofferedLeonard aneventual partownership ifhe wouldtake. itover andmanage it.“ A pecu-liar thing happened there that I neverforget. I was just a kid, ” recalledLeonard. The year was 1935 and snowwas on the ground. Inside the KlagetohTrading Post, a cozy fire burned in thecast-iron pot-bellied stove that stood inthe center of the large room. Bencheswere situated around the stove for cus-tomers to sit and visit. Spitoons werehandy nearby.

Continued

Merchandise could be seen all aroundthe room including items hanging fromnails on the large center pole which sup-ported the roof. There were some nails in

the polethatwerenakedwithnothinghangingfromthem.

Thatmorningawomancameinto thestore.She

worea largecow-boyhat on

her head, under a heavy winter coatcould be seen a wool plaid shirt, on herlegs were Levis and she stood there incowboy boots. On her hips were twin .45caliber pistols in holsters. She walkedup to the counter and· says, “I want totalk to Mr. Walker”, if I said that I wasWalker and she says “why, you’re noteven dry behind the ears yet; I want to

Outside the Navajo Trading Post at the 1947 Chicago Railroad fair are ThininieLaleka of Zuni Pueblo; Vajavo Porter Timeche; Frank Spencer, directorof FredHarvey Shops at the Grand Canyon; and Leonard Walker

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talk to your father.” I said that myfather wasn’t there. I told her that Iwas managing the’ store myself. ”

“ The woman goes on about theIndians telling her that I was sellingflour for $ 1.15 a sack. She says sheis getting a dollar and a quarter”. Shepulled out a forty-five. She droveabout three of those exposed nails onthe pole into the wood with her bul-lets and then turned around andpointed the gun at me. The barrelslooked like funnels they were sobig. I was shaking and could hardlyspeak but I managed to say“ Madam,madam, I am selling my flour forone twenty- five.” She says, “ It bet-ter stay there.” She turned and spitinto one of the spittoons and walkedout the door. After she was gone, Iwas still shaking for a time.

He learned from his customerswho were standing neaby that thewoman was Winnie Balcomb fromWide Ruins Trading Post in Arizona.His Indian customers also told himthat the lady had a habit of practicingher pistol art by driving nails intotimber. They added that most peoplewere afraid of her and Leonard wasquick to tell them he could now beadded to that list.

In 1936, Leonard Walker sold hispart in the store at Klagetoh, andwith his brother Victor, purchasedthe now famous Two Grey Hills

Trading Post. Soon after that, Leonardsold his interest to his brother and Viccontinued to own Two Grey Hills until1950. Leonard joined the United StatesArmy.

Vic Walker, a graduate of BoulderUniversity in Colorado, also owned theThree Hogans Trading Post at Lupton,Arizona, and the Fort Defiance TradingCompany at Fort Defiance. He ownedthe Fort Defiance store from 1946 until1974 and also owned Indian curio storesat Raton, at Estes Park, Colorado, and inSalt Lake City, Utah. Recentlv. Vic hassold all of his enterprises and has retired.He lives in Estes Park another brother,Claude (Olin C.Walker, Junior), ownedand operated Two Wells Trading Post(located between Zuni and GallUp) from1930 until 1958.

Throughout the Navajo Reservation,Claude was known by the Navajos as“Three Fingers. II He had lost the fingersworking on a power line for his father’spower company in Farmington when hewas seventeen. It was said by many thatClaude Walker had the soul of a Navajoin a white man’s body.\ and was oftencalled upon as interpreter in the court-room in Callup when a Navajo was onthe stand.

When I was a lad of fifteen, Claudevisited our home in the north valleyAlbuquerque. As he and I sat under ahuge elm tree on a hot summer after-noon, I asked him how well he could

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speak the Navajo language. He repliedby saying that he could speak it as wellas or maybe even better than a Navajo. Iexpressed my doubts. He proceeded toexplain what he meant by using the fol-lowing example. If one must speak ofthe clutch in an automobile, one mustknow how a clutch operates and speak ofit in those terms because there is not aword in the Navajo language for thatword. Therefore, if a person does notknow how the clutch in an automobileoperates, then that person can’t speakabout it in the Navajo language.

As a boy of about ten, I visited TwoWells Trading Post with my parents. Thelocation was isolated. a tiny communitycomplete with a church and a school. Infront of the store, tied to hitching posts,were Indian ponies. One afternoon,Claude invited me to accompany him tovisit a Navajo family.

He drove over rough terrain for quite awhile. Finally, we pulled up in front of aNavajo dwelling, a hogan. He disap-peared inside. I waited inside the four-wheel-drive vehicle for a few minutesand then got out of the truck and quietlywalked up to the door of the hogan. I lis-tened for a while I recognized Claude’s

voice among several others. I never didhear a word of English. Presently,Claude appeared at the doorway and toldme to come inside. In acircle around afire were several people. Everyone wassitting on the floor cross-legged. I did

the same. Over the fire was a blackenedcaldron.

Olin Claude Walker, Junior, told me toreach into the caldron and get a piece ofmeat. I saw others in the circle reachingand eating. I responded and began tochew. The taste was, I learned later, of anolder sheep — mutton. The taste wasstrong. I was hungry and it was good.

Claude died in Gallup in 1961.

After being discharged from the armyin 1946, Leonard went to work for hisbrother Vic at the Fort Defiance TradingCompany store in Arizona. World War IIwas over and Leonard was busy workingwith the Navajos. He bought sheep, cat-tle, and other livestock from the Indiansand after a herd had accumulated, itwould be driven to the railroad inGallup. Leonard told me, “In those daysyou could do that because there were nofences. You could drive your stockacross Navajo land, private and publiclands — it didn’t make any difference.

The livestock drivers were an interest-ing bunch. You moved along letting theherd graze as you went. Life was slowerthen. It might take several days to get toGallup but the sheep and cattle wouldn’tlose any weight because we took ourtime and went slowly only herders usedsheep dogs. The dogs would watch thelivestock so they wouldn’t wander offwhile everyone was asleep.

Continued

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n 1947, while at Fort Defiance,Leonard recalled, “Gurley, who waspresident of the Santa Fe Railroad, andHarvey, who was president of theHarvey National Restaurant System,came to visit me several times.”

These men had a proposition for .bim:they wanted him to take a large group ofIndians — representative members of thevarious tribes found along the route ofthe Santa Fe Railroad — to Chicago.Chicago was to be the host for the vastrailroad fair which was to celebrate the100th anniversary of the western rail-roads.

The Atchison, Topeka and Santa FeRailroad Company Hould build what itcalled the Santa Fe Indian Village to be apart of the fair. This village wouldattempt to simulate, on the spot, thelifestyle of the various Indian tribes andcultures which are scattered betweenChicago and Los Angeles. The displaywould include Indian dwellings such asthe pueblo, the Apache wickiup, theComanche teepee and the Navajo hogan.A trading post, just like the ones foundon the Navajo Reservation, would beconstructed and completely stocked withmerchandise. Visitors would see Indiansworking at their arts and crafts, and per-forming dances and ceremonials. Whatabout the other aspects of the fair? Thetwo gentlemen from Chicago toldLeonard Walker that history would bedisplayed as it unwound. The display

would be in the form of Wheels ofProgress: “ all modes of railroad trans-portation ”.would be displayed from theearliest types to the latest.

Meanwhile, back at the Indian Villageat the fair, skits would presented.Indianswould oppose the railroad comingthrough their lands and would fight theconstruction of the “singing wires”-thetelegraph. Any acting parts which could-not be handled by Indians would be doneby professionals-actors and stunt people.All would be filmed for later release bythe movie corporations of MGM andWarner Brothers.

I kept telling these gentlemen that itwas an impossible job—what they weredoing. Theycontacted me and I kepttelling them that it couldn’t be done.

Many of those Indians had never evenseen a train, much less been on one. I’dhave to have a ceremonial to get them onthe train, I would have to have a ceremo-nial for their housing, a ceremonialbefore the medicine men could painttheir bodies or send paintings for thepublic to view, a ceremonial for otherIndians to participate with each other.This would simply be an impossible job.I would even have to have a medicineman from each tribe represented plusIndian leaders from each tribe.

Leonard smiled as he said, “But myfather said I could handle it. Papa said,“You re going,” so, I went. .I headed forChicago by train in October, 1947, and

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we opened in May, 1948.

After everything in the Indian Villagewas set up and finished, I had to helpinspect it and approve it. It was a mag-nificent job that was done in recreatingthe lifestyle of the American Indian. Hehad the ceremonials. Seven or eight-hun-dred thousand people came through thedisplay everyday-seven days a week. So,that meant my job was seven days aweek. I would get up at six in the morn-ing and get to bed about one or two eachnight.“I still don ‘t know how I gotthrough it.”

Trader Leonard Walker rememberedsome of the people he had the privilegeto meet at the Indian Village: movie starsDonna Reed, Yvonne DeCarlo, BobHope, John Wayne, Bing Crosby, RedSkelton and the famous clown EmmettKelly. Dwight Eisenhower, who aboutthis time was changing jobs from Chiefof staff to President of Columbia University, also made an appearance. manyforeign dignitaries saw the exhibit.

Before the fair closed, the director ofthe famous Harvey Girls and the nationalrestaurant system, approached Leonard.He told Leonard that few people have achance to make history in their lifetime,but that Leonard was to have thatchance.

The Chicago Railroad Fair closed inOctober, 1948, and Leonard got homethe following May, 1949. About thistime, he saw an opportunity to pursueanother love—electronics. He went to

work for the U. S. government andwould be gone from Navajoland for thenext several decades.

David Leonard Walker realized his lostlove for the Indian world before it wastoo late, however, and came home to tolive and die. He was buried in theNavajo tradition in Gallup

The Walker family is gone from thereservation.

POSTSCRIPT.

The children of the late trader ClaudeWalker (Olin C. Walker, Junior) donatedland in the city of Gallup to the city inmemory of their mother Anne. The parkis known as the Annie Walker Memorialpark and as the inscription at the parkproclaims, is dedicated to all the wivesof the the traders and the hardships thesepioneer women endured living such aphysically demanding and isolated lifesuch as they lived.

* Writer Sam McIlhaney taughthisory at Bernalillo High for manyyears.He has a personal connectionto this story: Olin Walker is hisgrandfather and Leonard, Vic andClaude are his uncles.

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Heaven or Hell!

While walking down thestreet one day a Corrupt Senator was hit bya bus and died. His soul arrives in heavenand is met by St. Peter at theentrance. “Welcome to heaven,” says St..Peter. “Before you settle in, it seems there is aproblem. We seldom see a high officialaround these parts, you see, so we’re not surewhat to do with you.”“No problem, just letme in,” says the Senator. “Well, I’d like to, butI have orders from the higher ups. What we’lldo is have you spend one day in hell and onein heaven. Then you can choose where tospend eternity.”Really?, I’ve made up mymind. I want to be in heaven,” says theSenator. “I’m sorry, but we have ourrules.”And with that, St. Peter escorts him tothe elevator and he goes down, down, downto hell.the doors open and he finds himselfin the middle of a green golf course.In thedistance is a clubhouse and standing in frontof it are all his friends and other politicianswho had worked with him.Everyone is veryhappy and in evening dress. They run togreet him, shake his hand, and reminisce

about the good times they had while get-ting rich at the expense of the people theyplayed a friendly game of golf and thendine on lobster, caviar and the finestchampagne. Also present is the devil, whoreally is a very friendly guy who is havinga good time dancing and telling jokes.They are all having such a good time thatbefore the Senator realizes it, it is time togo.Everyone gives him a hearty farewelland waves while the elevator rises. The ele-vator goes up, up, up and the door reopensin heaven whereSt. Peter is waiting forhim, “Now it’s time to visit heaven...”So, 24hours passed with the Senator joining agroup of contented souls moving fromcloud to cloud, playing the harp andsinging. They have a good time and, beforehe realizes it, the 24 hours have gone byand St. Peter returns. “Well, then, you’vespent a day in hell and another in heaven.Now choose your eternity.”The Senatorreflects for a minute, then he answers:“Well, I would never have said it before, Imean heaven has been delightful, but Ithink I would be better off in hell.”So St.Peter escorts him to the elevator and he

The Lighter SideEl Cronicón

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December, 2012

THE GOLDEN YEARSSeveral days ago as I left a meeting at ahotel; I desperately gave myself a personalTSA pat down.I was looking for my keys.They were not in my pockets.A quick search in the meeting room revealednothing.Suddenly I realized I must have leftthem in the car.Frantically, I headed for theparking lot.My husband has scolded memany times for leaving the keys in the igni-tion.My theory is the ignition is the bestplace not to lose them.His theory is that thecar will be stolen.As I burst through thedoor, I came to a terrifying conclusion.Histheory was right.The parking lot was emptyIimmediately called the police. I gave themmy location, confessed that I had left mykeys in the car, and that it had beenstolen.Then I made the most difficult call ofall, “Honey,” I stammered; I always callhim”honey” in times like these.“I left mykeys in the car and it has been stolen.”There was a period of silence. I thought thecall had been dropped, but then I heard hisvoice. “Are you kiddin’ me”, he barked, “Idropped you off ”!!!!!!!Now it was my time to be silent.Embarrassed, I said, “Well, come and getme.”He retorted, “I will, as soon as I con-vince this policeman I have not stolen yourcar.”Yep it’s the golden years................

The Lighter Sidegoes down, down, down to hell... Now thedoors of the elevator open and he’s in themiddle of a barren land covered with wasteand garbage.He sees all his friends, dressedin rags, picking up the trash and putting itin black bags as more trash falls to theground.The devil comes over to him andputs his arm around his shoulders. “I don’tunderstand,” stammers the Senator.“Yesterday I was here and there was a golfcourse and clubhouse, and we ate lobsterand caviar, drank champagne, and dancedand had a great time. Now there’s just awasteland full of garbage and my friendslook miserable. What happened?” The devilsmiles at him and says,

“Yesterday we were campaigning,Today, you voted..”

A tip of the editor’s hat toour contributors

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Ed Delavy illustration for a magazine Christmas story

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