A Trip to Yuma

A Trip to Yuma

For over seven years I have wanted to visit Yuma for the express purpose of acquiring a copy of the journal of Major Samuel Heintzelman, written from January 1851 until December 1853. He was the officer sent to plan and build an army camp that became Fort Yuma when the violence of desperados and Indians was making it too dangerous for pioneers on the Old Emigrant Trail to make a safe crossing of the Colorado River.

 I am getting to the age where I don’t feel it safe to drive long distances alone, so Rich Borstadt, my friend and fellow history buff, and also curator of the Gaskill Brother’s Stone Store Museum, agreed to go with me. After two years of talking about it, we finally did it yesterday.

Although it was cool here in the foothills of the Laguna Mountains, I checked the forecast for the Imperial Valley and Yuma and found out that 94 degrees was predicted. In this very dry climate, that really doesn’t feel uncomfortable. But any time I drive across the desert I prepare for disaster by having a couple of gallons of water, radiator fluid, extra oil in my vehicle, and a shovel. Luckily we didn’t need any of that.

We gassed up at our local Indian casino and gas station, drove non-stop and reached Yuma in a couple of hours. Beside the historical area of downtown Yuma, there are two other major tourist attractions: the Yuma Territorial Prison, and the Yuma Crossing State Park. I had never seen the prison, so we went there first.

The prison was in operation from 1876 until 1909. It is situated on a bluff overlooking the Colorado River. It was dug out of the bluff, and built up from it by the prisoners themselves. Today it seems like a fate worse than death to have been incarcerated there, but at the time it was considered a modern and forwarding looking prison. It was fascinating to look at all the artifacts and read the stories about the place. We watched a film, and I bought a book about the history of the prison to take home and read at my leisure. I also bought a tin cup as a souvenir.

I had been told that journal of Major Heintzleman that I sought was available at the Yuma Library, but the library had been moved temporarily to a downtown location. We finally found it only to discover the book was only available a few blocks away at the Yuma Historical Society headquarters. Sure enough, a kind and pretty older lady had it waiting for us when we got there, and it appears to be all that I had hoped for. I was planning on reading it first and then donating it to our museum, but Rich is sure the historical society’s board of directors will want to be reimburse me for it. I like that but I still will read it first. There are stories in it waiting to be told. I have already written titles for six stories inspired by this Yuma expedition.

From the Yuma Historical Society’s gift shop, we went to lunch at a place Rich knew about from an excursion he had taken previously with a busload of people. It is called Lute’s Casino. I was rather dismayed when we walked in, because it was not very cool, and it was noisy and full of children. I may look grandmotherly, but I am really not crazy about kids. I have run across too many of them that are noisy, rude and without even basic manners. The place was crowded, but we found a table – next to a woman with four small children. Oh well!  A young man with pad and pencil in hand came over, pulled out a chair, sat down with us and said, “What’ll you have?”  A menu had been stuck between the saltshaker and a vase of plastic flowers, and I told him I would have Bob’s Polish Kraut Dog, and Rich had a hamburger and fries. The prices were right. When the waiter came back with our order, I asked him if Lute’s Casino had ever been a real casino. He pointed to all the pinball machines a lot of children were playing, and said it was still a casino. I said I meant real gambling. He replied, “Heck, you’re taking a gamble just to come in here to eat!”  That struck my funny bone, and cheered me up no end.

Meanwhile Rich had been looking around at all the pictures and just plain stuff decorating every open space on the walls. One sign said, “We may look funky, but we’re friendly.” There were pictures of old movie stars pinned to the wall, and pictures of other old movie stars pinned up overlapping them if there wasn’t enough room. Apparently Lute is a person who can’t bear to see anything thrown away, and he just brings it to his ‘casino’ and tacks on the wall. There was an old street sign that said "12th Street".  By this time I was getting to like the place. The kraut dog was the best I have ever eaten, with lots of sauerkraut and a special roll, and both tasted home made. Rich said his burger and fries were better than average, too. Then, I noticed that I hadn’t heard any noise from the children at the next table. Those kids were so well behaved, I had to lean over and tell their mother I thought she had awfully nice children. She beamed.

We suddenly noticed it was already 2:30 and we planned to stop in El Centro on the way back to talk to someone Rich knows at the Pioneer Museum. We got there only 30 minutes before it closed. We had both been to it before. That museum is a wonder to behold! It is the museum for the whole of Imperial County, and has galleries assembled by all the people of the many nationalities who came to farm when the Colorado River was harnessed back about 1902. I especially like the Swiss gallery. Many Swiss men came to take advantage of the cheap land that was opening up. When they were established a little, they sent for their brides. Can you imagine the culture shock those poor girls experienced coming from the cool land of Alps to the deadly 110-degree and higher heat of the relentlessly flat Imperial Valley? Those first pioneers lived in reed huts, and got their water from what were essentially large mud puddles. All water had to be strained and boiled before it could be consumed. There were multitudes of scorpions, cockroaches and sidewinder rattlesnakes. Swiss families, and other refugees from the summer heat in the Imperial Valley before the invention of air conditioning, founded the communities near me around Boulevard where it is much cooler.

While Rich was doing his business at the museum, I looked at the books and other things offered for sale in the gift shop. I wasn’t inclined to spend any more money after buying books in Yuma, and I passed on buying any of the wonderful collection of old sheet music offered for sale at $1.00 each. I wish I had remembered my daughter’s birthday is coming up. I think some of that sheet music might please her. She bought a keyboard last year and has been teaching herself to play it. In the music collection, I saw When the Red, Red, Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin Along, Night and Day, and others I know and even remember a lot of the words to. I may have to make another trip down to El Centro and the Pioneer Museum.

Rich and I arrived at my home where he had left his car, about 5:30 p.m.. I let my cats out for a roll in the sand, freshened up their litter boxes inside, and was just about to collapse in my recliner, when Jane came in enthusiastic about going out to eat at the Golden Acorn Casino. I was still full from the kraut dog at Lute’s Casino, but I went along anyway, and found salad and fruit that didn’t make me uncomfortably full. But when we got home again, I gathered up all my cats and Smokey Joe, and called it a day without even watching John Stewart of Steven Colbert. The lights here went out early, and if the coyotes serenaded us, I missed it.