By Judy Stoycheff

The Fitzmaurice Ruin, a multi-room prehistoric stone pueblo sits on a hill overlooking Lynx Creek in what is now Fain Park in Prescott Valley.  Over 900 years ago, this pueblo complex was constructed and inhabited by up to as many as 100 people at any given time beginning around A.D.1100 and continuing for 250 years.  Indiscriminate digging or “pot hunting” has caused considerable physical damage to the site and made it difficult for legitimate scientists to gather valid data.  Avocational and professional archaeologists use the artifacts found at such sites to date the habitation era and piece together what activities took place there. Questions as to the religious practices, food types and gathering methods, hunting and/or farming tools as well as trade items and possible trader identification can often be answered using the artifacts found at a site.

By Judy Stoycheff

In 1936, according to a published report, some of the members of the Yavapai County Chamber of Commerce (YCCC) took a tour to one of Prescott Valley’s timeless treasures.  They traveled by automobile eleven miles east of Prescott to Black Canyon Highway and then by mountain road to the Fitzmaurice property on Lynx Creek in Prescott Valley where Fain Park is now located.  On foot, they climbed a hill overlooking the mining operations on Lynx Creek to the prehistoric ruin known as the Fitzmaurice Ruin.

By Dr. Richard S. Beal, Jr.

It was 1879 and Romulus Adolphus Windes, just having completed his education at the Baptist Union Theological Seminary in Chicago, was faced with a problem.  His wife, Magdalene Ann, suffered terribly from asthma.  A physician advised a move to the dry climate of Arizona.  The American Baptist Home Mission Society was happy to appoint him to the town of Prescott, the capital of the Territory where gold had been discovered sixteen years before.  Windes felt it was the call of God, but how could he possibly move his wife and their two small children to such a remote place?

Edited by Kathy Krause

The following article was originally written by Richard Gorby and published on August 29, 1998 in the SHM Days Past Archives.  This article has been re-edited by Kathy Krause.

Editorial Note: Many Prescottonians remember well the hill between Lowes and the Gateway Mall on Route 69 as “Bullwhacker Hill.”  Today the name is rarely heard.  A remnant of the old road, with its gentle curve, is still visible on the slope to the north of the present highway, below the Lamb and York car dealerships.  In January of 1988, the hill was “in for a whacking” by the highway department when they began construction to straighten the road and lower the rise of the hill.  Today, the Gateway Mall is at its top, but 137 years ago the Bullwhacker Mine was in that spot.  The mine changed hands many times, was discarded many times and, although called Salvador for a while, still retained the Bullwhacker name.

Written by Pauline O'Neill, edited by Anne Foster and re-published by Kathy Krause

The following article was originally written by Pauline O’Neill and edited by Anne Foster. It was originally published on June 20, 1998 in the SHM Days Past Archvies.  Days Past Editor, Kathy Krause updated the article for re-publishing.

Over one hundred and fourteen years ago, on July 1, 1898 William Owen “Buckey” O’Neill was killed at Kettle Hill, Cuba. Efforts to commemorate his memory and those of his comrades-in-arms, the Arizona Rough Riders, began soon after and finally resulted in the statue that stands on the Courthouse Plaza.  While the Rough Rider Monument is a powerful statement of Prescott’s loss, it is this grief-stricken memorial written by Buckey’s 33-year-old widow, Pauline that is a most moving declaration of the personal sacrifices of war.  First published in the San Francisco Examiner a month after her husband’s death, Pauline’s tribute is reprinted here, in part.

By Gretchen Eastman

The house that was built on the southwest corner of Gurley and Marina streets in 1875, location currently of the Carnegie Library building, has become one of the jewels of the Sharlot Hall Museum campus.  William Zadoc “Zed” Wilson built the house never dreaming it would become known as the John C. Fremont House, home of Arizona’s fifth Territorial Governor with visitors from all over the world.

By Sharlot M. Hall and edited by Parker Anderson

Editorial Note: This article is reprinted from the Prescott Courier of October 27, 1932.  That day was Sharlot’s birthday and a presidential election was less than two weeks away, so she used the occasion to expound on the importance of voting.

Things are waking up – some fine young men who are voters now but may, in all probability, hold some of the county or state offices in the future, ask me to tell them just where I stand in politics.  “Because,” said one of them, “it seems wonderful to know there is anyone left who dares to fight for what they think is right.  I thought that was only in books.  I want to know what makes you think it’s worth while.”

By Parker Anderson

(This article was originally published in the Days Past column on October 28, 2001 under the title, "Old Ghosts I Have Known Hereabouts".)

Every once in a while, someone will strike up a conversation with me regarding Prescott's various reputed "haunted" sites. I enjoy the subject, but in reality, Prescott is probably one of the least haunted cities in America. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, there are not that many purported hauntings in the Prescott area, so the same stories are told over and over again.

By Marie Slayton

(This article was originally posted on September 8, 2001.)

Having worked at the Gurley Street Grill for the better part of the last six years, I am quite familiar with the folkloric history associated with the building. However, as most people know, folklore and stories that are passed down through generations can bear little if any resemblance to history.

By Jan MacKell

"The ancient card faces painted on the layout were doubtless faded and worn, but to my boyish eyes they glowed like a church's stained-glass window.... (Gaye) started drawing the cards one by one from the battered old silver box. As he drew, I could see his lips move and knew he was making bets for imaginary customers." So did Nugget (the main character in Conrad Richter's book "Tacey Cromwell") describe how his brother practiced to become a faro dealer in Bisbee during the late 1800s.