By Pat Kilkenney

Yup, there really was a Fort Whipple in Virginia; although most tourists to the Nation's Capitol know it as Fort Myer and Arlington National Cemetery.  How it came to be is an interesting "side-bar" of Civil War History; and not one of the finer moments of our Government's history! 
 

By Ken Edwards

(The first of two parts on the life of Pauline Weaver, "First Citizen of Prescott") 

Few people know much more about Pauline Weaver than is contained in the short memorial on his headstone on the grounds of the Sharlot Hall Museum.  Who was Weaver and why is he of such importance in the history of Prescott and the Territory of Arizona?  His life story is recounted in the excellent 1993, booklet by Jim Byrkit and Bruce Hooper: "THE STORY OF PAULINE WEAVER Arizona's Foremost Mountain Man.  Trapper, Gold-Seeker, Scout, Pioneer".  The following material is mostly based on that publication.

By Parker Anderson

A few months ago, in this column, this author related the near-legendary story of James Parker, alias Fleming Parker, convicted train-robber, jail-breaker, and murderer.  On the fateful day in May 1897, when Parker broke out of the Yavapai County Jail, two other convicts went with him, a Mexican named Cornelia Sarata, and an accused forger named Louis C. Miller.

By Ruth Ann (Partridge) Kizer and Mona Lange McCroskey

Byron Meridith "Bye" Partridge was born to James Partridge, a spice "drummer," and Estelle Gammon Partridge in Springfield, Massachusetts on March 7, 1900.  On November 5, 1900, he married his high school sweetheart, Ruth Chapin.  Byron, a self-taught musician, earned money as a youth playing the piano in silent movie theaters in Springfield.  He could not read music but he had a good ear for a melody and a wonderful sense of rhythm.  He held several other jobs, making a living for himself and his young bride.

By Terry Munderloh

The broad expanse of Chino Valley forms an alluvial basin where subterranean water discharges to the surface for an area of many acres.  The spring water, once brought to the surface, then seeps back to the source ground waters, recharging the subterranean aquifers.  Surface water in the arid southwest is a magnet for life and ancient ruins attest to prehistoric man's occupation of this valley, but it was the Spanish explorers who gave these springs the name we know them by today: Del Rio. 
 

By Leo Banks

On a snowy night in Prescott in January of 1898, a mysterious woman dropped a baby girl onto the bar of a Whiskey Row saloon and disappeared out the bat-wing doors.  The commotion that resulted rocked the town, and its echoes are still felt today.

By Juti A. Winchester, Ph.D.

In Prescott, the name Sharlot Mabridth Hall brings to mind a number of images.  Some people remember her as a ranch woman.  Others know her as a poet, journalist and writer, and still others as the Territorial Historian or as the founder of the museum that bears her name.

By Al Bates

Julius and Celia Sanders spent the first 35 years of their married life uneventfully, farming in Kentucky and Illinois.  The next five years were spent on a trek that took them and most of their children to California and then to Arizona to become Prescott's first Anglo family.

By Juti Winchester, Ph.D.

A young woman of good family meets a man while traveling.  After a whirlwind courtship they marry, against the advice of friends and family.  He then whisks her away from her former life and takes her to live in a log house on the wild frontier.  This may sound like the plot from a romance novel, but it is the true story of Margaret Hunt, who married the Secretary of the Territory of Arizona, Richard McCormick, and came to live in Prescott's Governor's mansion late in 1865.  A short diary, and a series of letters from "Maggie" to her friend Emma Denike and to her brother John allow us a glimpse at the McCormick's life and relationship. September 27 marks the 135th anniversary of their marriage.

By Kathryn Reisdorfer

(This is the second part of a two-part article regarding Ann Hopkins.)

Ann Hopkins, the feisty wife of Clarence Hopkins, the Chief Engineer for United Verde Copper Company, was busy making her own way in Jerome when World War I erupted.  In order to meet the demands of war, United Verde's smelter was running full bore and, according to Hopkins, "The sulfur smoke from the smelter had killed all the verdure for miles around.  There was not a living green thing within sight of Jerome. . . ."