By Warren Miller 

Dobie rode a bronc to breakfast. 
That cayuse was plumb green. 
He fed ol' Dobe some biscuits, 
Still in the fire, I mean.

The camp cook wasn't none too pleased 
When Dobe went in the fire. 
That bronc spilled all the coffee; 
Stomped the bacon in the mire. 

Now, Dobe was some preoccupied, 
That biscuit dough was hot, 
And the lid from that dutch oven 
In his galluses was caught. 
 

These lines begin cowboy poet Mike Logan's poem, "Bronc to Breakfast," from his book of the same title.  The poem continues through sixteen more stanzas to tell a great story, rich in detail and humor, of an early morning roundup camp incident that left the cook hopping mad and breakfast and hot coals scattered all around the chuckwagon. 
 

By Parker Anderson

The mountain town of Jerome, today a quiet, tourist-oriented hamlet, was a wild and wooly mining camp in the late 19th century.  A vast array of respectable and not so respectable characters congregated there.  Among them a barber named Richard Cross.  Very little is known of his background, except that he hailed from Illinois.  Why he ended up in Jerome is also unknown.  What is known is that, while he was there, he became infatuated and/or obsessed with a woman who did not return his love. 
 

By Leo Banks

A Hualapai Indian murderer was hung outside Prescott in 1925.  The now-forgotten case was extraordinary for its drama and absurdity.  It was a frontier hanging in the age of the telephone and Model-T.  The killing of cab driver A.M. Cavell by George Dixon Sujynamie aroused deep passions in Prescott.  The white population hollered for the head of the 19-year-old Indian, while members of the Hualapai tribe reportedly held war councils and threatened reprisals if the government went through with the execution. 

by Larry Schader 

In 1947, Warner Brothers Studio made a movie titled, "Dark Journey", starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Near the end of the film, Bogart goes into a bus depot in San Francisco to buy a ticket to "Benton, Arizona." The ticket clerk consults his tariff and tells him he can go by way of Ash Fork, Prescott, Skull Valley, and Wickenburg. Thus, for one brief shining moment, the community of Skull Valley was thrown into the worldwide movie spotlight. One can only wonder what went through the minds of the viewers if they were quick enough to catch that brief mention of a town called Skull Valley. Was it the image of a dark and foreboding scar on the landscape? Or did they think, "What a great place for a Halloween Party!" The reactions, if any, were probably as varied as the explanations that exist today for the origin of the name.

By Dorothy Chafin

When my family first moved to Prescott, the population was 4,500.  Was it a dull, small town?  Nope.  It was the county seat and always had activity. 
 

Shopping was better than it is today: Bashford Burmister carried everything from furniture to designer dresses and suits with famous labels; Agnes Todd had a dress shop just across the alley from the Elks theatre and restocked several times a year from her trips to California and other cities.  She would also do shopping for her customers, always knowing what they would like.

By Ruth Noggle 

(This is the second part of a two-part article regarding Joe Noggle, his family and the bronze foundry that he created.)

One of Joe's favorite picnic areas was on the top of Mingus Mountain. Our family always looked forward to those occasions. He took us with friends and relatives and we enjoyed happy summer repasts. Sometimes, he drove slowly around Jerome's curves retelling the true story of their sliding jail, the consequences of exploding dynamite. It was a ghost town then and Joe liked its mystique.

By Ruth Noggle

(Joseph Noggle contributed significantly to our community and later opened a Bronze foundry.  In this first part of two-part article the author tells us of Joe Noggle's background.)

We three Noggle kids had it all in the 1950's.  Both our parents worked, but they watched over and nurtured us as best they could.  Joe Noggle, my father, built five log homes in the 800 block of Whetstine Ave. and we lived in the first at 849 from 1948-1958.  It sat on a large lot with plenty of elbowroom for us growing, exploring kids.

By Everett Jaime

It's probably difficult for most Prescottonians to imagine life before Harkin's Theatre or Blockbuster.  But there was a time when kings still held masquerade balls, and entertainment, in the form of theatre and music, was reserved for the aristocracy.  For our unrestricted access to public arts, we owe many thanks to a little-remembered movement of actors in the mid-16th century called the Commedia dell'Arte.

By William "Bill" Peck

The facilities at Hillside were scant to say the least in 1940.  The water supply consisted of a drip from a spring claimed by Emmet Coleman and was forbidden to most of us.  It accumulated in a 50-gallon drum in front of his store beneath the scraggly cottonwood that served as shade and tether for "whose-ever" horse happened to be secured there.

By Karla Burkit

Probably no other single piece of legislation impacted more individual American families than the Homestead Act of 1862.  American citizens and immigrants from every walk of life rushed to stake claims under the provisions of this Act.  By 1900, nearly 400,000 individuals and families had paid the ten dollar registration fee and taken steps to "prove up" on a piece of the American Dream.