By Edna (Ballew) Patton and Parker Anderson

Edna Mae (Ballew) Patton lived in Skull Valley for over sixty years. In the late 1990s, she committed many of her memories to paper. Following are her writings. Edna died on July 31, 2008, only five days after meeting with Sharlot Hall Museum volunteer, Parker Anderson, and giving permission for her memoirs to be published.

My husband Warren and I arrived in Prescott with a very sick son on March 31, 1940. That summer, Warren asked me to fix a picnic lunch. He said he had something he wanted to show me. We picnicked in the woods and then drove out on the narrow ledge road above Copper Basin. He pointed out the tiny buildings in the valley to the west and said it was Skull Valley. He said it was the prettiest little place and he would be happy to spend the rest of his life there. On the hilltop there was a big tree with a board set all around it that the CCC boys had built back in the 1930s. Warren carved his initials in the tree and they are there to this day. 

Warren got a job in Bill Clive's Service Station in Prescott. While working there, he met Karl Fackler whose car was too heavy to lift in the shop. Warren asked him what he had in the trunk. Karl opened the back and it was loaded with rock ore samples. Warren told him if he ever needed help, he would be glad for the job. A few days later Karl came to the house and Warren was hired to work at the Logan Mine in Skull Valley. 

For a while, Warren drove to and from Prescott, except in winter when he boarded with Pearl and Wily Coughran (parents of Hulda Christopherson) in Skull Valley. The road to Skull Valley was only paved to Iron Springs (five miles). The rest of the way was narrow, rough and crooked. I was working at J.C. Penney on North Cortez Street and while working there I met the K. L. Pearsons from Skull Valley. They had bought some baby chicks and they kept me posted on the chickens' growing progress. They said, "When they are frying size you folks come down for fried chicken." Finally, chickens were ready and our chicken dinner at their place was the beginning of a long friendship. 

In late July 1942, we moved to Skull Valley to an old house, near where Pearl and Wiley Coughran lived, since torn down. Karl Fackler was a partner with our old geologist, a Mr. Bartholomew. They lived in the little Bochat house where Jack and Patty Lemon's store/house is today. This Mr. Bartholomew would not let anyone into the house who smoked, so Warren threw his cigarettes away as he came in the gate in front of the house. There was a horseshoe game going anytime Mr. Bartholomew could find a willing partner. He even tolerated me and sometimes I could beat him! Any day Mr. Bartholomew would come to me and ask if I would come help him with something. Of course I was willing. I followed him over to his house one day and there was a swarm of bees. Mr. Bartholomew had a hive under a tree limb. He said, "Now I'm going to shake this limb, and you put the top on the hive when they go in." I said, "No, Bartholomew, I'll shake the limb and you put the top on." I came home not knowing whether he ever caught the bees! 

Karl Fackler received money from a gold mine in Washington State. When the price of gold was frozen and gold mines were closed, Karl's income was gone. He and Warren went to Camp Wood and worked for a while for a Mr. Joy in a mine. This left my son, Daryl, and me here in Skull Valley. I didn't know many people and didn't have any money. When Warren came home one weekend, I told him I was going to move back to Prescott. Now he didn't pay me any mind. So after he left on Monday, I caught a ride to town, got back my job at J.C.Penney, rented an apartment and got a babysitter lined up. On Friday morning, I caught Daryl Christopherson in his dump truck and moved into town. That night someone knocked on my door. It was Warren all shook up. He said he had no idea I meant to move. Next day he got Walt Coughran and his pick-up and moved Daryl and me back to Skull Valley. He told Mrs. J. H. Warren about his wife not being happy and wanting to make a little money, so she said she had a job for me. It was cleaning her house! House cleaning along with washing dishes is something you do when you can't put it off any longer! 

Happ Ogden, clerk at Skull Valley store for many years, quit; and I became the clerk on January 2, 1943. Being the new clerk in the Skull Valley store was news. Mrs. Josephine Shupp, in her 90s (Chester Shupp's mother) insisted she meet the new clerk. He brought her in and we chatted together at the store. She wanted to know all about me and my family, why we came, and where we came from. I don't know whether I passed the test or not, but to me it was something I'll never forget. To think that I talked to a lady who was one of the first settlers and who had even seen the first train come through! While I worked there, Uncle Frank Ehle, Alf Stapp, and Chester Shupp would sit on the bench in the front of the store and tell some of the most wonderful stories. Isn't it a shame I didn't keep a diary then? These men were all sons of the first settlers. 

Karl Fackler and Warren soon went to work for Fred Schemmer at the old, commercial, low-grade copper mine in Copper Basin. Karl eventually went back to Washington State, but Warren drove the mine truck for seven years. Warren's truck usually had a heavy load of ore and the truck wasn't pulling right. So he drove forward and really gave it the gas and the truck landed in a railroad car at the ramp. He caught a ride to the mine and asked Mr. Schemmer where he wanted to ship that truck - he had it loaded! Schemmer brought the entire crew down and they jacked the truck up and put it back on the ramp. 

Warren was driving truck down the hill from the mine one day and there was a man lying in the road. He put on all the brakes he had and jumped out. It was Luther Kester. Mr. Kester had a hernia and had lain down in the road to fix his brace! He and his brother, Frank, lived in Skull Valley for years. Frank lived in a cabin and Luther in a tent house. These brothers got crossways with each other and wouldn't speak, so, when it was necessary to communicate, they wrote notes. Frank died, and I don't remember the circumstances, but Luther continued to live in his tent house. He often would catch a truck coming into Skull Valley and send his list of groceries down to the store. We would fill his order, and I would ask any of the men sitting on the bench in the store to go with me to deliver the groceries. Sometimes Uncle Frank Ehle, Alf Stapp or Bill Basye would go. They all said I asked them to go along just to open gates! 

There used to be a railroad stockyard close to the section house. I remember one trainload of cattle coming in and cowboys herding them around the store. We have had many nice people live in the bunkhouse and work on the railroad. One family was the Cheramiahs, an Indian family. The mother, Margaret, came from an eastern Arizona tribe and one summer she took her youngest son, Andy, home for a visit. They weren't there long before he began to cry. She asked him what was wrong. The little boy said, "Mama, let's go home. These are all Indians here." Another railroad worker, Hex Welch and his family once lived at the railroad bunkhouse. One day his wife came running into the store carrying their baby. She said their oldest boy of 8 or 9 had fallen while playing on the corral fence and had cut his leg real bad. I drove the store truck to the old county hospital where the doctor sewed up his leg while I held the baby. The store in Skull Valley was the hub of all activities. 

When we first came to Skull Valley, Angora goats instead of cattle were the rancher's source of money. There were three big ranchers: John Resley, now the Bud Webb ranch; Jack Medd, now A-bar-V; and Sam Raney. Mr. Raney had a saying, "More people every day, but no more land." Mr. Raney owned where the Rosalie Gordon Ranch is today. He had a triangle of land he couldn't use because the main road came straight across behind where the church is and cut across where Dick Warner lives now. Mr. Raney put a fence across the road and made two right angle curves making it what it is today. Mr. Schemmer came down from the mine and made Mr. Raney take it down, but in the night he put his fence up again. He gave the church a place to build and the church members thought they had the big triangle, but Mr. Raney put up another fence and sold five acres to Ray Shook. Now, in old times, this was not accepted. That road had been there from the beginning! Alf Stapp and Mr. Raney even came to a fistfight. Alf said, "I was getting the best of him until Granny Raney laid a fence post across my cheek." It even had a nail in it. That was the end of that fight. 

During deer season while World War II was going on, ammunition was hard to get. Hunters really counted their shells. Someone in the basin shot his deer then stuck the head up on a post where people out hunting would see it. Men shot that head all to pieces thinking they had spotted a live deer. When they found out it was a joke, they thought it wasn't funny at all. 

Thed Delk was cattle inspector and had one of the two telephones in Skull Valley. He and his wife, Genevieve, had gone to Bagdad one day and took the shortcut up from Pike's place. The next afternoon Fred Schemmer and another man were coming home. It was a hot summer day, Fred could only see the back of a car and license plate and he recognized it and backed up. He found Thed dead and Genevieve badly hurt. They pulled her out and stopped at the store to tell Mrs. Irving to call the hospital. Genevieve lived but had a long convalescent period. 

Johnny Warren was a delight to know. He always had a twinkle in his eyes. He helped me in the store sometimes when Mrs. Irving was away. Once I had to go to the basement for something and he accidentally locked the door on me. There I sat on the basement step when I was supposed to be running the store and post office. Another time we were running things, Mr. Shupp brought in eggs in cases holding 30 dozen. At certain times of the year, chickens lay lots of eggs. Johnny stacked these cases 8 or 9 high. We heard a noise and those cases had arched over and hit the door going out into the storerooms. The two outside doors were always locked so there wasn't any way of getting in the back. I suggested we break a window, but Johnny said, "No." He went out and got a ladder and put it up to a tiny window high up in the feed room. How that big boy ever got himself through that little window is a mystery. He pushed the stack of cases upright so I could get in. We didn't break too many eggs. We cleaned that mess up and, by mutual agreement, didn't ever tell what had happened. 

My husband, Warren, leased the Skull Valley Station April 1, 1953. He also bought our home in July the same year. His first customer was Alf Stapp. He opened the station at 6:30 a.m. and came home at 6p.m. I fixed supper one night and waited for him to come home. Finally he came, bringing a young couple with a little baby clad in just a diaper. Our grandson, Larry, was two, so I sent down to Shirley's (Daryl's wife) and got his baby clothes. With the help of my tea towels, we clothed that little baby boy. These people didn't get their car running until late the next day. That little baby boy would be a man of 28 now. Another young couple's truck broke down and they had a little baby girl. After giving them money for groceries, they pushed the truck into the garage and locked the family in. Next day, Warren got the man a job at the mine and they rented the house north of the station. They stayed here for a year or more. Their name was Blackburn. 

There were three men who came to town and lived in the old cement house across from Tiger Mine. They worked a gold mine. Each time they came for groceries, they showed me the most beautiful pieces of rock with gold showing. There was a Mr. Freeman and Mr. Coonrod. I don't remember the name of the third man. They worked for months carrying the ore down to their house on their backs in sacks. Finally they had a dickie-truck from Hillside come and haul their ore down to the south of the state to a mill. These men were hungry. Warren grubstaked them. Warren asked if they would sell. Five hundred dollars changed hands and we had a paper that said we owned two claims: Yellow Jacket No. 1 and No. 2. As soon as the check came these men disappeared. We went to a lawyer and found out these men did not own anything. Also, there were no Yellow Jacket No. 1 and No. 2 claims. We had been stung! These men did not pay for even the hauling of their ore. We found out later they had shipped 16 tons of ore and received $35,000. 

There are few trails or roads in Copper Basin we have not slipped, slid or crawled over in the jeep. One Sunday we came upon an old cabin that had been fixed up like new. These people had built a beautiful barbecue and tables between trees and they and their friends from Phoenix were having the best time. Warren asked them how they bought the cabin and they said from a Mr. Coonrod who told them he owned everything as far as the eye could see! A week or two later, two women came to the station and asked to be taken to an old mine. Warren had me take them in the jeep. When we got there, these ladies had flashlights; and they flashed them on all this sparkling ore. These ladies thought they were rich, that all they had to do was gather up a sack of gold any time they needed money. I asked them where they got this mine and, again, it was Mr. Coonrod! 

Daryl, our only child, was only six years old when we came to Skull Valley. He grew up playing in the creek, hunting and fishing. His first project in 4-H was rabbits. He made the mistake of playing with the little ones. It got hard for him to kill them to sell them. His next project was an Angus calf. About this time he went up to Uncle Fred and Aunt Margaret Patton's and helped build corrals on the Dr. Linton Smith ranch (now Bud Webb's). He wanted a little mare that was on the ranch. She cost $35. He kept on working and earned $50, which he took over to Uncle Ed Coughran's and bought his saddle. So now he had a $50 saddle on a $35 mare. Fred Patton took him hunting the first time. He killed a deer, and Fred hung it up and skinned it for him. The next year he shot a deer, and Fred hung it up and showed him how to skin it and went home. When I got home that night, Daryl said he was not going hunting anymore. That was too much work! Daryl's second 4-H calf, when he sold it, turned into four wheels - his first car. 

I used to go to Sunday School here in the community hall once in awhile. We watched them build the first little church, and I attended quite often. However, after we moved across the road, I had an added motivation. If I didn't go to church, Brother Merle would knock on my door to see if I was sick. 

Ray Shook was working in Wickenburg and would come home for the weekends. One Friday, Warren saw an old man get out of Ray's truck and go down under the bridge. Next day, Clayton Vincent, who had leased the A-bar-V Ranch, came to the station and asked if Warren knew of anyone he could get to help for a while. Warren went down under the bridge and asked this man, whose name was Mr. Butler, if he would work. He said he would. He liked Skull Valley so well he rented the little Bochat house. One summer he raised a big garden and sold vegetables. He laid the vegetables out and just put up a sign with the prices and a money till so people could wait on themselves. We were all so proud that people on the road were honest, but along came that one bad apple that took all Mr.Butler's produce and all his money. He was out of business! Years later a nice car pulled into the station and, in the front seat sat Mr. Butler all dressed up. His son had found him after many years. His son told Warren his dad had been a well-respected man until his wife died and he just fell to pieces. He drank and wandered all over the country. 

Warren had the habit of going over and checking on the station each Sunday morning. Then he usually drove around the valley just enjoying it. But this particular morning he was gone much longer than usual. When he came home he was a little more than excited. He said, "You won't believe this." His office door was unlocked and on the car seat by the stove was a young woman wrapped in a fur coat. He helped her find her contact lens. She told him she was coming from Phoenix and at Wickenburg a car started following her. She turned off at Kirkland Junction, then at Kirkland and then on Ferguson Valley Road. She got stuck in a sand wash. It was in the middle of the night, very cold; and she was scared to death. She climbed a tree and watched two men hunt for her. When she felt sure they had given up she walked to Skull Valley. She tried Warren's office door, and it opened! He evidently had forgotten to lock it. Warren pulled her car out of the sand and she went on her way. Her father was a doctor in Chicago. 

Warren was proud of his station and kept it clean. I scrubbed and waxed his floors, washed his windows and wiped his shelves. His restrooms were always clean. He and Bob Kukal, who owned the general store with his wife Mary, even swept the streets. His office was hot in the winter, and school kids were welcome to wait for their buses in there. 

I mentioned the Cheramiah family before. The oldest boy, Angus, helped Warren at the station. Warren really liked Angus. One day a horse trailer came in and got gas. Now you know what was left when the horse left. Warren said, "Angus go get the shovel and clean that mess up." Angus said, "Mr. Ballew, if you want that cleaned up, you clean it up yourself." It shocked Warren. He didn't realize he was insulting Angus. 

Warren sold the station to Forrest Brown (Brownie) and his wife, Pat, June 19, 1978. We had been to town and all the papers were signed. We were in the office taking inventory when down the road came Larry Ballew on a borrowed motorcycle with fire shooting out all around him from something leaking in the cycle. He came to the station instead of going to the creek to put out the fire. We dropped pencils and paper, grabbed the fire extinguisher and put it out before Larry was hurt. Only thing I was thinking about was the service station and all the explosive fuel around. 

Like all people who retire, we thought we could play. But that was not to be. Few people loved Skull Valley like Warren Ballew. My husband passed away, and I later married Fred Patton who grew up in Skull Valley and ran the Bud Webb ranch for many years. My son, Daryl Ballew, continues to have his excavation business in Skull Valley - "Cat Ballew." 

"Don't worry about the future. The present is all thou hast. The future will soon be present, and the present will soon be past." My advice: if you can't grow old gracefully, do it any way you can. 




Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(pb015a75-350n). Reuse only by permission.
Skull Valley in the 1940s. 


Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(db330f200). Reuse only by permission.
Fred and Edna Mae (Ballew) Patton, 1988.