by William "Bill" Peck
If there is one lesson history teaches, it is how fast we forget. When I was a boy in Hillside, Arizona, the occupants denied there ever were any Indians or gold mines of significance, even though less than a man's lifetime had intervened between those most notable events. One need only venture into the hills in search of Indian artifacts, arrowheads, pottery or search the mine dumps for evidence of early workings such as old bottles, metal objects or crucibles to realize that you are much too late. Earlier visitors have denuded these places.
The ancients made use of stone and clay material destined to survive. Our metal, paper and plastic society is doomed to early extinction. Only our most ambitious structures of concrete have much chance of outliving even the youngest amongst us (although events of almost a year ago have demonstrated their fragility). Without documentation and, in perhaps no more than ten years, all of our early history will have vanished. This will be an irretrievable loss of painful proportions.
Many people regard old mines as blasphemous scars upon our mountains. Those in charge of public lands - the U.S. Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and the Arizona State Land Department - are more concerned with "public safety," restoring the land to a pristine condition that (in this author's opinion) never existed by filling in old mines and obliterating the dumps and surroundings. In one fell swoop this destroys a chapter in our history that some may be unaware of or insensitive to. They see no value in pondering the hardship and difficulty encountered by those who pioneered the way. We need to preserve a few bites of the gung-ho optimism that drove these old timers and apply that knowledge to our over-regimented society that confines us today. Consider that the Hillside Mine may well have been the earliest commercial endeavor in the entire United States in 1610, ten years before the Pilgrims hit the shore. We are a nation of TV watchers and armchair historians who have a very superficial knowledge and certainly little empathy for our heritage. I dread the coming day of virtual reality.
The Hillside Store, as it is today, is a minor step in preserving our traditions. It is a place to sit and chat, browse, enjoy a cup of coffee and to chance onto some of the saltier characters that still abound around here. The climate is the best in the county and the smallness of our town makes everybody's business ours. Come and drop in and ask some questions for yourself. You may be amazed at what lies at your doorstep.
The road continues on to Congress, although it is dirt. Don't let the county warning sign deter you. They have those waivers on all the county dirt roads. As you travel, remember that 80 years ago this was the best north/south road across our state. Go back in time and play in your mind that you are driving an open-top Packard with your bedroll in the back. Watch for a campsite where there are woods and water and listen for a tire blowout. When a covey of quail flies across the road, unleash your shotgun and enjoy fresh meat. Or, just sit back with the windows rolled up and the air conditioner on and a tape playing. That's how most people do it nowadays.
Be different! Live!
Watch for a train along the east side of the road. This is a working railroad and a dozen mile long trains a day wind through our mountains. As recently as three years ago, our sleepy little burg was the origin of a trainload of ore a day. Thousands of cattle have taken their last trip to the slaughterhouse from our former stockyard.
If you go southward 13 1/2 miles, on the left and across the tracks, the Skull keeps its vigil. The conductor on the long-gone passenger train used to have stories about this. You got more than just a ride for the price of your ticket. The mail from Phoenix to Kingman still came through our town on the "Kingman Stage" as recently as 1945: one day up, the next day back, three times a week. The stage was an open-top Packard like the one of our imaginary trip. It carried passengers too, and it was wise to take something to eat and your bedroll. If Burro Creek or the Big Sandy were in flood, you were in for a campout. Things haven't changed all that much in Hillside since those days. Come and see. We'll be lookin' for ya!
(William Peck is a long time resident of Hillside.)
If you are interested in writing short histories of Yavapai County and the region for the Courier, contact the Museum Archives at 928.445.3122)
Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (pb059f10i6)
Reuse only by permission.
Along the dirt road between Hillside and Congress, the Skull has kept its vigil at least since 1895, when the Santa Fe, Prescott & Phoenix Railway first passed this notable formation. Conductors on the trains usually had a story to tell passengers about its origin.