By Evelyn B. Baldwin and edited by Parker Anderson

(This article first appeared in the Prescott Evening Courier on October 27, 1936. It was submitted to the paper by the Courier's Jerome correspondent, Madge Whitford. It was written by her father's cousin, Arctic explorer, Mr. Evelyn Baldwin. The article has been long forgotten, and is presented here, re-discovered at last.) 

The following true narrative of the first Masonic burial in Arizona, as related to me by my old friend, Col. W. M. Williams, of Cairo, Illinois, will doubtless interest your readers. I give it, as nearly as possible, in his own words:

In 1860, I was in Arizona as superintendent of the St. Louis Mining Company, located on the San Pedro River, a short distance west of what is now known as Tombstone, and 40 miles east of Fort Buchanan. 

On one occasion, I made a visit to the Santa Rita mines, located in another part of the territory. These were managed by Cincinnati parties and were known as the Heintzleman mines. I arrived there and introduced myself, as none of us had ever met before. I was greeted with that cordial hospitality known only to those who have lived on the frontier or in mining camps, by Mr. H.C. Grosvenor of Cincinnati, the superintendent, with two others who occupied positions at the mines. 

One of these, Mr. J.T. Mason, I found seriously indisposed; the other I sent to Fort Buchanan to bring D.J.D.B. Irwin, surgeon at the post. I then devoted my time to the sick man, who was growing more feeble each hour. He told me if he died, he wanted to be buried with Masonic honors. 

I had "tried" him and found him to be a bright third degree Mason. I promised to do all I could to carry out his request. He died before morning, and the messenger sent for the doctor had not returned. It was uncertain as to when, if ever, he might return. 

It fell upon me to arrange for burial of our friend. I sent messengers to Tubac and other places where Americans were known to be to come to my aid. During the day I selected a beautiful spot overshadowed by a large mesquite tree and there had a very deep grave dug, as in that country, the coyote is a kind of hyena, that will unearth any corpse if not laid deep in the ground. While this work was done, I stood guard to keep the Indians from surprising us. 

By midnight, the messengers I had sent out commenced returning with the few who could come with them. I found among those who arrived, two or three Masons, who, like myself, were "rusty" in the Masonic burial ritual. We opened the trunk of the deceased, hoping to find something to guide us in fulfilling his last request. The following persons composed the funeral cortege: Dr. C.B. Hughes, J. Howard Wells, William S. Oury, H.C. Grosvenor, Colonel Titus S. Warner, and myself. We had determined to bury the body at night, in the darkness, having no light except a candle in one of the old time perforated lanterns by which I could read the service 

After lowering the body into the grave, I commenced to read the service. I stood close to the head of the grave, and Mr. Howard Wells held the lantern behind me. A rustling sound was heard. It was supposed to come from lurking Indians, and every one looked out for himself. The man holding the lantern dropped it into the grave, and I fell in after it. 

There I was with the corpse in a deep grave. I had my pistols and Sharp's carbine with me, and I realized that if any attackers peered into the grave, I could fill it with dead bodies. I listened. Not a sound was heard. My companions had, I suppose, secreted themselves and no doubt thought I had done the same. 

After the lapse of about four hours, day began to dawn, and as I stood upon the corpse (no coffins were in use in Arizona at the time of this occurrence, the dead simply being wrapped in their blankets) and cautiously looked over the brink of the grave to take in the surroundings. 

I soon saw my comrades, one by one, emerging from behind rocks, where they had hastily secreted themselves, no one knowing where the others were. I called aloud for help and was soon assisted from the prison in which I had been confined for fully four hours. As this is the first Masonic funeral that was ever held in Arizona, I think it deserves a record. 

After comparing notes, we discovered that the mesquite tree under which we were holding our solemn service was the roosting place of a colony of crows, our intrusion having disturbed them and thereby causing us to stampede. 

As the sun rose over the mountaintops we returned to the grave and completed the reading of the ritual and covered our friend with the clods of the valley, and left him sleeping where he will rest until the resurrection morn. 

 

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(citn226pa)
Reuse only by permission.
This photograph of Tombstone, Arizona Territory was taken in about 1900, and is entitled: "Views of Old Town."