Bob Cote entered into the Dude Ranchers Hall of Fame

Bob and the rest of the Cote family have helped develop and maintain a rich history with the Tanque Verde Ranch since its initial purchase in 1957 by Bob’s father, Brownie Cote. The history of the ranch dates back to the 1920’s when Brownie Cote bought two summer camps in northern Minnesota in which to make a positive impact on children’s lives – Camp Lincoln for boys and Camp Lake Hubert for girls. It was while working the summer camps that Brownie noticed a desire for parents to be near their children while they attended camp; so in 1937 Brownie purchased Grand View Lodge to accommodate this interest.  Brownie also noticed during this time the struggle to keep his staff year round, as the camps only provided seasonal employment. In 1944, Brownie purchased a guest ranch named Desert Willow in Tucson, Arizona in order to keep his staff employed year-round. Tucson’s growing development motivated Brownie to purchase Tanque Verde Ranch in 1957 in order to keep the Desert Willow Ranch remaining a beautiful and natural attraction.

While Brownie’s son Bob was working on his doctoral thesis at a university in Japan, he received a call from his mother, Judy, to come back to Tucson and help operate the ranch for a year. Over time, Bob grew closely attached to the ranch and decided to stay and develop it. Here he expanded into the European market by building relationships with international wholesalers, in addition to promoting the international tourism and business at Tucson POW WOWS. With his new relationships built and the timely media boom of Western Films, travel agencies began referring European tourists to Tanque Verde Ranch and it began to grow considerably. Bob’s endeavors were later recognized when he received the State of Arizona’s Hall of Fame for Tourism in 2005, which was the first guest ranch inductee.

Although the ranch was booming, Bob recognized that not everyone stayed at Tanque Verde Ranch to ride horses ¬– so he shifted the direction of his efforts towards program development, in order to better cater to the needs and desires of the whole family. He created various programs and activities tailored specifically for children, adults and families such as hiking, mountain biking, tennis, fishing, weddings and many more. In Bob’s words, “a true vacation is one that expands your mind,” believing that being able to take something away from a journey is what really matters.

Through Bob’s hard work, dedication and love for Tanque Verde Ranch, Bob was inducted into the Dude Rancher’s Hall of Fame; what was once a simple, small-time guest ranch is now a thriving hot spot for worldwide tourists and acclaim. The Dude Ranchers’ Association represents over 100 of the best Dude Ranch and Guest Ranch vacations in the West. They strive to preserve this special way of life and the wonderful environment in which dude ranching takes place.

We would like to thank Bob Cote for his dedication and commitment to Tanque Verde Ranch and the legacy of quality and unforgettable experiences he has created for his guests and employees alike.

We all met in Zürich, Switzerland, eager to know what the next two weeks would bring.  Our guides greeted everyone at the airport upon arrival and that evening, we enjoyed meeting our fellow hikers over some genuine Swiss wine just prior to a festive welcoming dinner at the Swissôtel.

The following morning we set off on the efficient Swiss Rail to the storybook Swiss village of Kandersteg, set amid the snow-capped Alps.  We were welcomed by our friendly hosts at the Bernerhof, a charming chalet-style hotel, with colorful flowers cascading from the balconies.  After we settled into our cozy rooms, we headed out on our first hike to see Kandersteg and climb to an overlook, with views of the whole valley and the surrounding peaks.

Our Tanque Verde Hiking group loved the day-hikes each day among the spectacular Swiss Alps, accompanied by the music of the bells on Swiss cows in the meadows.  We hiked up gorges with rushing streams, past turquoise lakes, the mountains reflected in their waters, many with spectacular views of the famous Matterhorn, Eiger and Jungfrau.

We had our two experienced guides, Virginia and Terry, who allowed us to have two hiking groups to accommodate differing abilities.  On one hike, we visited an alpine cheese-making farm where the farmer’s wife showed us the process of turning milk into that delicious Swiss mountain cheese.  Also a trip on the lake steamer from Thun to Interlaken is always a highlight.

Our hotels in Kandersteg, Zermatt and Wengen are all so welcoming and cozy – not to mention the fantastic food!  One evening, dinner was the traditional Swiss cheese fondue.  The Swiss are famous for their good food.  Every evening, there are choices with always three or four courses.

Just prior to dinner each evening we gathered to share photos of our hike that day, talked about the next day’s hike, and enjoyed a glass of Swiss wine together.  The Swiss don’t export their wine, so we enjoy it in their lovely country. 

The weather in September is the best – that’s why we choose to go then.  Bright blue skies, fabulous views and for hardier hikers, even a climb up to the base camp on the Matterhorn!  Hikes also included the Eiger Trail, a spectacular trail right at the base of the famous Eiger North Face.  Sometimes we are able to spot climbers on their way to the summits.

Rene & Sina, the owners of our “Romantik” Hotel Schoenegg in Wengen always give our group a farewell wine party on our last evening.  Hubert, their fabulous chef, prepared and passed around his very special hors d’oeuvres.  Rene was on the Swiss National Ski Team and participated in the Olympics, World Cup Races, etc.  He kindly (after some encouragement!) told us many of his international skiing adventures.

It’s a fabulous trip, and as many guests have said, “It’s the trip of a lifetime”! To join us in September 2012, just contact Virginia at the Tanque Verde Ranch, virginiav@tvgr.com or call her on her direct line, 520- 731-5580.

Written by Virginia Van der Veer, Hiking and Tours Director, Tanque Verde Ranch

After a brief lesson on the use of the spotting scope that would provide closer views of some of the birds, the neophyte and experienced birders set off for other parts of the ranch to find what the desert had to offer.

The first stop was the bird ramada, a shaded sitting area with seed feeders scattered about it. After the ranch’s resident birder topped off the feeders, the parade began. First in were the Gambel’s Quail. Arriving in ones and twos, clucking constantly among themselves, they gathered in a tight covey, their head plumes bobbing as they pecked at the seed. Emboldened by the presence of the quail, others came out of the brush to feed before us.

Rufous-winged Sparrows, Brewers Sparrows and Black-throated Sparrows worked the edges of the path. Curve-billed Thrashers moved to the tube feeders. Northern Cardinals, brilliant red in the sunlight, moved in to the tray feeders, joined shortly by the Pyrrhuloxia. Mourning Doves joined the quail on the path, with one White-winged Dove dropping into the group. A pair of Inca Doves fought over which of them had rights to the food while the birds around them ignored them and continued to devour the seed. A Cactus Wren called from the cholla cactus at the side of the path. A Gila Woodpecker, taking a break from building its new home in the nearby saguaro, swept down to one of the platform feeders to grab a quick meal.

Three different species of towhee came to visit. Two Abert’s Towhees appeared briefly, three Canyon Towhees moved about under the feeders, picking up the dropped seed and a lone Green-tailed Towhee came close to the back step of the ramada. For no apparent reason since none of us had moved, the birds exploded into the air and disappeared into the brush. Seconds later, a Cooper’s Hawk swept up the path and through the ramada, just above the heads of the startled bird watchers.

Taking advantage of the sudden vacancy of the feeders, talking excitedly about the close encounter of the bird kind, we moved on to the pond beside the cottonwoods. American Coots and Ring-necked Ducks swam about. A Great Egret lifted off from the far bank. A female Belted Kingfisher flew to the far end of the pond, scolding us for our intrusion upon her world. A pair of Vermilion Flycatchers, hawking for their meals, perched in the top of a young cottonwood on one of the islands. Phainopepla perched in nearby mesquites, guarding their supplies of mistletoe berries.

Moving into the stand of tall cottonwoods, we found the “resident” Great Horned Owl, watching us wide-eyed as we returned the favor. A Verdin made a brief appearance along the path, several of his old nests noticeable in the mesquites.

Searching through the leaf litter under the cottonwoods, a pair of Greater Roadrunners came close as they looked for the variety of insects and lizards that make up the majority of their diets. A lone Black-tailed Gnatcatcher jumped from branch to branch in the bushes, gleaning his meal.

Two hours had flown by. We were back at the nature center, handing back our binoculars as the hummingbirds continued their aerial combat around us. After taking a couple of pictures of them from impossibly close range, we moved on to our next activities, promising ourselves that we would spend some quiet time on the benches at the bird ramada or on the gliders in front of the nature center, relaxing and enjoying the birds the desert has to offer.

Fuzzy, furry, cute and a great pet.

Soft blond hair covers the females, while males are found covered in black. Female tarantulas have larger, stockier bodies than males, and they also have hairier legs…how attractive! The cephalothorax and the abdomen, the two main body parts, along with eight legs, and two pedipalps, make up a tarantula. The pedipalps, used to catch and transport their prey, are located at the front of the cephalothorax, the anterior part of their body which includes their head. Their mouth and fangs are on the underside.

Living as long as 24 years, female tarantulas live twice as long as males. Males mate only once, often dying shortly after, and sometimes at the mercy of the female. Residing in the dry, open areas of the southwest, the Desert Blonde Tarantula is partial to the state of Arizona, as well as Mexico. These spiders burrow 8 to 12 inches into the dessert ground, line it with silk webbing, and call it home. The silk webbing, believe it or not, actually prevents their burrow from caving in.

Tarantulas are very sensitive to vibrations on the ground that may indicate the presence of prey or danger. Equipped with urticating hairs on their abdomens, tarantulas can release these hairs, causing the eyes and noses of predators to burn and itch. Now, while their venom isn’t harmful to humans, its bite will overcome most insects, and even some small rodents. Desert Blonde Tarantulas are nocturnal hunters, with a diet consisting mostly of grasshoppers, beetles, other small spiders, and even small lizards.

What’s the Desert Blonde Tarantula’s worst nightmare? Yup, you guessed it…the Tarantula Hawk. A large, black wasp with orange wings, the Tarantula Hawk stings the spider, causing paralysis. The predator then drags the tarantula away from its burrow, lays an egg on it, covers it up, and when the larvae hatches, it feeds on the paralyzed tarantula. Other predators the Desert Blonde Tarantula must be wary of include lizards, snakes, spider-eating birds, coyotes, and foxes.

The Desert Blonde Tarantula isn’t only a wild species that you catch rare glimpses of, it also makes a great pet. These spiders are tame creatures and easy to care for. A 5 to 10 gallon tank filled with peat moss and soil provides a good home for this tarantula. Half a flower part or a nice piece of tree bark makes for a suitable shelter to retreat to. With a diet consisting of larger insects, the Desert Blonde Tarantula is easy and inexpensive to feed. If you’re looking for a pet that doesn’t take up much space, doesn’t need constant attention, and isn’t at all vocal, consider making a Desert Blond Tarantula your next furry friend.

A New Sheriff in Town

Tanque Verde Ranch announced that Nicholas Gold has been named to the new General Manager position.  In his role at the award-winning property, Gold will be responsible for day-to-day operations, marketing and sales, guest services and managing other Ranch activities.

A thirty year veteran in the hospitality industry, Gold brings decades of experience and success in the management of luxury resort operations, specifically within those garnering prestige statuses among the travel industry.  In 2011 alone, Tanque Verde Ranch has been the recipient of numerous awards, including “Top Ranch” finalist by Conde Nast, “A Top Ten Family Vacation Destination” by The Travel Channel, “Top Wedding Venue” by The Knot, and “Top Spring Break for Families” by Travel and Leisure Magazine.   Gold has previous experience in managing award-winning resorts. Prior to joining Tanque Verde Ranch in January 2011, Gold was General Manager at Enchantment Resort & Mii amo Spa in Sedona, Arizona, where he managed all areas of the 236-room resort and spa.  Under his lead, Enchantment Resort garnered multiple accolades.

Gold also served as Corporate Director of Food & Beverage at Miraval Resort and Spa. Gold will bring his extensive knowledge of the hospitality industry to Tanque Verde Ranch to seamlessly transition into the role as General Manager, best serving guests and leading the Ranch staff.

Bob & Nicholas being coached by the King of the Square pancakes, Gus.

Since September 1992, Gus has been a loyal and dedicated member of the Tanque Verde Ranch staff. He started his career as a tennis pro and worked his way through the ranks, including management positions in operations, programs and recreation. In the spring of 2009, Gus was appointed General Manager. Through his hard work and dedication, Gus has become the hands on leader at Tanque Verde Ranch.

At Tanque Verde Ranch, Gus’s greatest strength has always been his excellent guest service skills. He prides himself on knowing his guests by name and strives to make each guest’s stay better than the last. During his time as General Manager, Tanque Verde Ranch received numerous awards including Top Ranch Finalist by Conde Nast, A Top Ten Family Vacation Destination by The Travel Channel, Top Wedding Venue by The Knot, and Top Spring Break for Families by Travel and Leisure Magazine.

“Joanne, the boys and I will miss all of our guests and staff, who have been like extended family, tremendously. We take with us 19 years of friendship, laughter and incredible memories. Thanks for your part in creating those memories,” said Gus.

Effective August 6th, Nicholas Gold will take over Gus’s responsibilities as the company works towards a permanent appointment. Gold is currently the Director of Operations and is responsible for all aspects of Ranch operations including food and beverage, reservations, housekeeping, grounds and maintenance. Gold has been with Tanque Verde Ranch since January 2011.

“We wish Gus and his family much happiness in their new home and new career,” said Scott Siler, Chief Executive Officer of Cote Family Companies.

photos by roni ziemba

Part 3 of a 7-part series…

Night. The last of the twilight fades. The movement at the top of the saguaros is imperceptible, but there is movement. A few of the buds are opening.  Slowly, ever so slowly, the petals peel back. Before midnight they are open. The white blossoms glow in the moonlight. The fragrance drifts on the breeze, beckoning the pollinators to their banquet.

Generous with its nectar, the saguaro waits, but not for long. Lesser long-nosed bats and Mexican long-tongued bats plunge their faces into the flowers to feast on the nectar within. Fitting the flowers like a key in a lock, their faces emerge well dusted with the heavy yellow pollen. They move on to other flowers, from cactus to cactus, feeding on the nectar in exchange for pollinating the state flower of Arizona. The pollinators must move from one cactus to another. A saguaro must be cross-pollinated. Without the pollen of another saguaro, the flower’s promise will not be fulfilled. No fruit will be produced.  Across the lower slopes of the Rincon Mountains, on and around Tanque Verde Ranch, thousands of saguaros await their turn, luring the bats with their sweet reward.

Dawn. As the promise of day shines above the mountains to the east, the bats return to their roosts, turning over their job to the birds. As the day warms, the Gila Woodpeckers, Mourning Doves and White-winged Doves visit the flowers, but their shift is shorter than that of the bats. By the afternoon, the flowers have closed, never to open again. Others wait their turn. Unlike the night-blooming cereus, not all the saguaro’s flowers bloom in a single evening. They will unfurl their flowers nightly in the weeks to come.

Even before tours were taken in Colossal Cave in the late teens and early twenties, it was reputed to have been a bandits’ hideout, and one or another version of what we term our “Bandit Legend” has been told. It took on a life of its own, and while certain details and embellishments have been added and subtracted over the years, the basic story has remained pretty constant:

In 1884, four men held up a mail train near Pantano, a tiny town east of Tucson and just south of Colossal Cave, and got away with $72,000 in gold and currency. They hightailed it into the Rincon Mountains. Sheriff Bob Leatherwood got a posse together and trailed the bandits to a hole in a mountainside—a cave entrance. When the Sheriff stuck his head in, he was greeted by gunfire, so he decided the best thing to do was to starve the bandits out. He sat in front of that hole for two weeks, till one day a deputy came riding up to tell him that four men were whooping it up in the Corner Saloon in Willcox—that’s about 70 miles from the Cave—throwing gold around and bragging about how they’d left the Pima County Sheriff sitting in front of a cave in the middle of the desert while they took a back way out.

The posse took off for Willcox and cornered the men in the saloon. In the gunfight that followed, three of the men were killed. The fourth, named Phil Carver, was arrested and sentenced to twenty-eight years in the Federal prison at Yuma. The Cave, of course, was thoroughly explored, and the back entrance and bandits’ lair found: the remains of a campfire, food, clothes, all there—but not a trace of the $72,000.

Phil Carver served eighteen years and, upon his release, came right to Tucson. Sheriff Leatherwood, who was still in office, had him followed relentlessly, but Carver gave his trackers the slip and headed for Colossal Cave. By the time a posse got there, he was gone. All that remained—slit open and abandoned in a hole in the Cave—were several empty mailbags.

What the Legend really is, is a mosaic made up of fragments of several actual occurrences. Here are the true tales as far as we know them…

April 27, 1887: In the darkness before moonrise, as westbound Southern Pacific passenger Train 20 headed down the track from Pantano toward Tucson, it was ambushed by four masked men. They brought it to a halt by setting off explosives on the tracks, signaling with a red train lantern, and shooting the cars full of holes. As Wells Fargo Express Messenger Charles F. Smith barricaded himself behind the locked door of the express car, the bandits forced the engineer to carry a heavy explosive back to the express car and tell Smith to unlock the safe and get out or they would both be blown to kingdom come. Smith did.

The bandits uncoupled the engine, express, and mail cars from the rest of the train, hopped on the engine, and steamed toward Tucson, leaving the passenger cars and crew behind. They ransacked the express and mail cars, and a few miles from town, they got off, put the locomotive in reverse, and sent it back toward Pantano while they took off into the desert. Although they got away with several thousand dollars, they missed thousands more which Messenger Smith had hidden in the stove in the express car.

In the days before the robbery, the bandits made Mountain Springs Ranch, known today as La Posta Quemada Ranch, their hideout.

Three more train robberies took place on the Southern Pacific line in Texas between April and August.

Then on August 10, 1887, same train, same place, same time of night, Express Messenger Smith in the express car, here we go again. Two men stopped the train by the same method—shooting off explosives and firing into the cars. One shot clipped off half the engineer’s mustache. This time, the bandits booby-trapped the track by throwing a switch. The locomotive thundered off the rails and overturned, along with the coal-tender. As this was at the top of a fifty-foot high embankment, it was fortunate that the railroad bed was wide enough so the cars didn’t go over the edge. The fireman jumped into the top of a big mesquite as the engine went over, but the engineer didn’t have time to follow, and rode it down till he could climb out the window and roll to the bottom of the embankment.

Meanwhile, the robbers ordered Messenger Smith to open up the express car. When he refused, they blew a hole in the door, and recognizing him, one said, “Smithy, the stove racket don’t go this time.” When he refused to open the safe, they pistol-whipped him till he saw reason. They went through the safe and hightailed it into the Rincon Mountains with U.S. currency and gold.

Posses consisting of sheriffs and deputies, as well as cavalry, Yuma Indian trackers, and even Marshal Virgil Earp, searched for over a week. They discovered that the bandits had again used Mountain Springs Ranch as a rest stop, and in fact all the tracking parties made it their headquarters. They found a small shelter cave near here in the Park, which the bandits had used as a hideout. But the robbers were gone, leaving behind food, clothing, some coins and jewelry, the remains of a campfire, but no loot. The posses tracked them from there to a very large cave, known then as Five-Mile Cave at Mountain Springs. Today we call it Colossal Cave. Here the bandits hid out for several more days, and then taking advantage of the extremely rocky terrain and an absolute gully-washer of a rainstorm, they escaped completely

Two months later, October 17, 1887, well after dark, an eastbound passenger train was held up near El Paso by two men. The robbers went straight to the express car and blew the door open. Express Messenger Smith (a different one, J. Ernest Smith, this time) realized what was happening and had already snuffed out the lamp. He left his gun on the floor in the doorway and dropped from the car, intending to land on one of the robbers and slug him and then turn back for his gun. Instead, he found himself at gunpoint. When the bandits wanted a light in the express car, Smith volunteered to climb in and light it. He put his hands on the car floor, grabbed his gun, and shot one of the robbers through the heart.

The other robber picked up his dead buddy, carried him ahead to the engine, and ordered the fireman to put him on board. During this confusion, Messenger Smith took aim and shot the second robber, who staggered off. He was found dead the next morning less than fifty feet away.

It turned out that El Paso was the headquarters of a gang of train robbers who made their hideout in some caves near that city, probably those now known as the Aztec Caves in Franklin Mountain State Park.

Ultimately, four men were brought to trial—two were acquitted, two were convicted.

For that robbery, he was sentenced to five years in Yuma prison.

Of the two convicted, George Green of El Paso was the chief witness regarding the April robbery. He testified that the two bandits who were killed trying to rob the El Paso train were part of the gang which pulled off both Pantano robberies. And although Green (a.k.a. George Wills) said he was not involved in any but the April robbery, there were reports that he “plea-bargained” and testified against the others in return for being tried for just the one robbery. For that robbery, he was sentenced to five years in Yuma prison. He served only five months there before he was transferred to the Penitentiary in Ohio for the remainder of his sentence. We have no further information about him.

The other man who was convicted was J.M. “Doc” Smart, subsequently pardoned on appeal by no less than President Benjamin Harrison.

As to the money, to this day, no one knows how much was stolen or what happened to it. Wells Fargo was notoriously tight-lipped about revealing how much was ever lost in any robbery of which they were a victim, no doubt because they feared loss of confidence by their customers. Depending on which robbery you’re talking about, figures ranging from $3,000 to $70,000 missing were published at the time.

Is there gold hidden in Colossal Cave?

George Green said he saw considerable sums being passed around among his compadres after the April robbery. Wells Fargo later said that the amount which Messenger Charles Smith hid in the stove was $30,000. This gives rise to the question, how much was there to begin with? In the August robbery, Wells Fargo credited Smith with scattering a “heavy consignment of gold” throughout the express car, and said that had mitigated how much was taken. Well, how much was there, and how much was taken? Is there gold hidden in Colossal Cave?

Is it in our best interests to say?

Another tale which may have contributed to our Bandit Legend has to do with three Tucson gamblers, Gibson, Murphy, and Moyer, who had a feud with another gambler named Levy. One day in 1882, they called Levy out of the Cosmpolitan Saloon and each took a shot at him. They hightailed it into the Rincons and hid in Colossal Cave for a while before decamping to the Catalinas and then the Galliuros. They were captured and put in Pima County jail. Next thing you know, they were reported to have tricked and overpowered their jailer, leaving him tied up and gagged in their cell. They set six other prisoners free, and all escaped.

Ultimately, they were recaptured and brought to trial on murder charges. Murphy and Moyer were found guilty, while Gibson was acquitted on the grounds that Levy was already dead when Gibson’s bullet hit him!

Two interesting points

Two interesting points: 1) The jailer, George Cooler, within a month of the jailbreak, pled guilty to letting the prisoners go. And 2) George Cooler was a member of the “original” exploring party, the one which explored the Cave in 1879.

© E. Lendell Cockrum, M. K. Maierhauser

Visit the Colossal Cave website at – http://www.colossalcave.com

Researched by TVR Facebook Fan Weekly Contest Winner: Sandy Osborne.

From 12 Renowned Women of the Wild West, by the Editors of Publications International, Ltd.: Times were rough for ladies in the Wild West, so this crackerjack stagecoach driver decided to live most of her life as a man. Born in 1812, Parkhurst lived well into her sixties, in spite of being a hard-drinking, tobacco-chewing, fearless, one-eyed brute. She drove stages for Wells Fargo and the California Stage Company, not an easy or particularly safe career. Using her secret identity, Parkhurst was a registered voter and may have been the first American woman to cast a ballot. She lived out the rest of her life raising cattle and chickens until her death in 1879. It was then that her true identity was revealed, much to the surprise of her friends.

From The Real Mountain Charley, by Ed Sams:

Charley Darkey Parkhurst, known in life as Cockeyed Charley and in death as Mountain Charley, was one of the greatest stagecoach drivers of the Old West — who just happened to be a woman. Weighing close to 175 pounds and just five feet in height, Charley had big arms, but a thin voice and preferred sleeping in stables with the horses rather than going out with the boys. Nevertheless, Thomas Edwin Farish, who rode with Parkhurst in 1870, called Charley, “as good a driver as could be found anywhere.” According to well-known western writer Joseph Henry Jackson, Charley was “as skillful, as resourceful and as hard-boiled as any driver in the Sierras.” Mary Chaney Hoffman, writing for the American Mercury, elaborates:

He was Charley Parkhurst, one of the most celebrated whips of the early days. He was known up and down the coast of California, in the mining towns of the Sierra Nevada and wherever the tales of the Argonauts were heard. He was accounted one of the coolest and most daring of all that brave band of stage drivers.

Add to these professional accolades the distinction that Charley was the first woman to vote in a United States Presidential election some fifty-two years before women were granted the right to vote.

Mountain Charley began life as Charlotte Darkey Parkhurst, born in Lebanon, New Hampshire, during the year of 1812. Legend has it that she was abandoned by her parents and placed in an orphanage from which she later escaped disguised in boy’s clothing. The trick worked so well that the disguise was continued. Charlotte found work as Charley in a livery stable own by Ebenezer Balch in Worchester, Massachusetts, where the runaway earned bed and board cleaning stalls, washing carriages and scrubbing floors: “Anxious to learn all she could about horses, the stable hand grew to understand them by carefully watching every move made by the stage drivers, who drove Concords [stagecoaches] into Worchester.” Ebenezer Balch found promise in his young protégé and soon taught Charley the art of driving, first two-in-hand, then four-in-hand, and later six-in-hand horse teams. When Balch bought the Franklin House and the What Cheer Stables, Charley went with him to Providence, Rhode Island, where Parkhurst’s reputation was made. In time, Charley Parkhurst became known as one of the best coachmen on the eastern seaboard, and coaches were often hired only on condition that Charley drive. At this time, Charley’s “favorite team was the best in the stables, six perfectly matched grays.”

Then came the first threat of exposure. One January, at a dance in Pawtuxet, while waiting outside in the cold for the passengers to return, Charley’s hands froze. Unable to drive, Parkhurst had to call upon another driver, Liberty Childs, to take over the coach. Liberty Childs is described by MacDonald as Charley’s “proud friend.” Whether due to the shame of asking for help or the joshing that came from needing it, shortly thereafter Charley left New England and relocated in Georgia, where the young whip enjoyed a reputation of “sure-handed driving.” Perhaps Liberty Childs learned Charley’s secret when Charley was rescued from the cold. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, throughout Charley’s career in Northern California, the doughty driver would be known by the characteristic long-fringed, beaded gloves worn summer or winter that adorned the small, smooth hands that seemed to disgust their owner.

Once in Georgia, Charley drove for Jim Birch, who was getting ready to come west and operate the California Stage Company. Charley came along, saying, “I aim to be the best damn driver in California.”

Parkhurst arrived in San Francisco in 1851. Nearly forty years old, Charley walked off the gang plank at the pier, wearing gloves to hide a pair of woman’s small hands and a pleated shirt to hide a woman’s figure. The trip had been an uneventful one, except for Charley’s presence on board. The curious figure attracted several admirers. On board the steamer R.B. Forbes from Boston to Panama, one John Morton of Morton Draying and Warehouse Company of San Francisco pronounced Parkhurst, “an agreeable ‘companion de voyage’ who had been a stage driver in the East and who came to California to drive a stage between Stockton and Mariposa.” Even more telling was the comment made by European traveler John Charles Duchow while traveling with Charley in Panama. Craig MacDonald reports that Duchow’s journal contains this entry on May 18:

He calls himself Charles Clifton but passengers on board call him ‘Thunderbolt.’ He says the reason for passing under an assumed name was that he was an important witness in a case and wishing to have nothing to do with it, adopted a false name to get out of the way. He told us that he’s married to a Boston merchant where he is keeper of the American’s house… In short, he is a very queer fellow indeed!

If Charley Parkhurst indeed traveled west under the alias of Clifton, as MacDonald believes, then here is the clue to the riddle of Charley’s lifelong secret. There was a court case in which Charley was named as an important witness, perhaps even a correspondent. Shortly after death when the secret of Parkhurst’s sex was revealed, the San Francisco Call wrote that Charley’s life was “a story of a fair maiden in New Hampshire becoming disappointed in love and leaving her native state disguised in the habiliments of the sterner sex.” Could it be that a woman had married a prosperous and proper Boston banker, tired of an unhappy marriage keeping house and escaped in men’s clothes, a disguise that had always succeeded before? No specifics are known, except that for a short while after driving stage in Georgia, Charley returned up north to New England before heading for California.

Whatever the reason, Charley found a home in California. The early 1850s were still bustling with gold fever, and Charley was a part of the excitement, driving stage coaches through the wildest boom towns of the Gold Country — Rough and Ready, Grass Valley, and Placerville. By the mid-1850s, Charley tried new routes from Oakland to San Juan Bautista, and by 1856, Parkhurst lived at Searsville in San Mateo City.

During this time, Charley received an injury and a celebrated nickname of “Cock-eyed Charley.” Mabel Rowe Curtis reports that in Redwood City, “he was kicked in the face by a horse he was shoeing. The accident cost him his eye and ever after he wore a black patch over it, earning him the sobriquet of ‘One-Eyed Charley’.” Lee adds, “From then on people called him ‘One-Eyed Charley,’ but not in his presence, of course.” There are various stories explaining how Charley lost the left eye, but all sources agree that the horse that caused the mishap was Charley’s lead horse Pete. The bland episode of the horse kicking Charley while being shod turns lurid in one retelling that had a nail misfire and take out the eye. Another more romantic explanation for Pete’s behavior is a rattlesnake. According to Patty Stoker, the horses became skittish and Charley had stopped the coach to soothe the lead horse Pete, when a rattler shook its tail, frightening Pete and causing him to kick Charley.

This injury did not end Charley’s love of horses or desire to ride the western stage. In the 1860s, Charley was back driving the stage from Tahoe to Placerville and Sacramento to Mariposa. A respected driver throughout Northern California, Charley was entrusted with special missions by Wells Fargo. According to Mabel Rowe Curtis, “Such was Charley’s fearlessness and attention to duty that Wells Fargo once sent him to New York with a quantity of gold which he delivered safely.”

Finally, in the late 1860s, Charley retired from riding the stage. In the Monterey Peninsula Herald, Parkhurst was quoted to say: “I’m no better now than when I commenced. Pay’s small and work’s heavy. I’m getting old. Rheumatism in my bones — nobody to look out for old used-up stage drivers. I’ll kick the bucket one of these days and that’ll be the last of old Charley.”

Settling down as a land owner in Santa Cruz County, Parkhurst ran a stage station and ranch as well as working as a lumberjack during the winters, earning as much as five dollars a day when younger men earned only three. It was here in Santa Cruz County where Charley had another risk of exposure. Sometime during the 1860s, while working for Andy Jackson Clark, Charley came home “stone drunk,” and Mrs. Clark asked her seventeen-year-old son to put Charley to bed. According to Ms. Helen T. Tarr (Clark’s granddaughter), the boy returned in a dither exclaiming, “Maw, Charley, ain’t no man, he’s a woman!” Mabel Row Curtis writes, “Those good people, sensing Charley’s humiliation if confronted with the fact that he was unmasked, never mentioned it to a soul until after Charley’s death.”

In 1879, Charley succumbed to cancer of the tongue. Legend has it that the old stagecoach driver died alone, but actually Charley was tended by the Harmons, who were neighbors, and by one Frank Woodward, with whom Charley had raised cattle and gulched wood. In a letter to the Register Pajaronian, George Harmon relates that his father Charles came close several times to being told the secret of Parkhurst’s life, but each time the old-timer drew Harmon close to the sickbed, the invalid would wave him away, saying it would keep. And so the secret was kept until Charley’s death. Even Frank Woodward, the business partner and longtime companion, seemed shocked to learn Charley’s true biological sex. Reports were that Woodward “waxed profane to the extreme when he learned of the deception that had been practiced on him so many years.” However, news of Charley’s secret identity traveled remarkably slowly, giving the local papers a chance to eulogize and give tribute to this remarkable character. On December 28, six days after Charley’s death on the twenty-second, the San Francisco Morning Call wrote:

He was in his day one of the most dexterous and celebrated of the famous California drivers ranking with Foss, Hank Monk, and George Gordon, and it was an honor to be striven for to occupy the spare end of the driver’s seat when the fearless Charley Parkhurst held the reins of a four-or six-in hand. . .

Later newspapers sounded a less fond, more perplexed note after a Watsonville doctor discovered that Cock-eyed Charley was a woman. Not only did the attending physician proclaim Parkhurst “a graciously endowed female,” but “further examination revealed that old ‘Cock-eyed Charley’ had given birth to a child.” Immediately, some gentlemen of the press proclaimed Charley a hermaphrodite, but “the coroner’s findings disagreed.” The Watsonville Pajaronian wrote on January 8, 1880:

Rumors that in early years she loved not wisely, but too well, have been numerous and from the reports of those who saw her body, these rumors receive some color of truth. It is generally believed that she had been a mother and that from that event, dated her strange career.

In a similar vein the Santa Cruz Sentinel opined: A mother she is represented to have been, and it may date back to that proud eminence from which virtuous women alone can fall, fall by the deception of some man monster, but there must have been a cause, a mighty cause.

Some editors seem to take personally Charley Parkhurst’s life of disguise. One editor in Rhode Island wrote rather acidly: Charley Parkhurst died of a malignant disease. She could act and talk like a man, but when it came to imitating a man’s reticence, nature herself revolted, and the lifelong effort to keep from speaking, except when she had something to say, resulted at last in death from cancer of the tongue.

The Yreka Union wrote less dramatically, but perhaps more reasonably, “She may have been disgusted with the trammels surrounding her sex, and concluded to work out her fortune her own way.” Furthermore, in the town where Charley first found fame, the Providence Journal wrote: “Charley Parkhurst was one of this city’s finest stage drivers. The only people who have any occasion to be disturbed by the career of Charley are the gentlemen who have so much to say about ‘women’s sphere’ and the ‘weaker vessel’.”

The San Francisco Chronicle threw up its hands at conjecture and offered this comment as a fitting epitaph: “It is useless to waste time in conjectures as to what led the dead to take up the cross of a man’s laboring life.”

Whatever the reasons that caused Charley Parkhurst to pursue this unique career, the remains of this famous stage driver were buried in Watsonville’s Pioneer-Odd Fellows cemetery. In 1954, after the old cemetery had grown into neglect, the Pajaro Valley Historical Association discovered the Parkhurst plot, and Charley’s remains were removed and reburied with an historical marker erected in 1955.

by Rick Hartigan

photos by Roni Ziemba / ziembaphoto.com

ANTICIPATION

The winter rains are a memory. Fat with their absorbed moisture, the cacti wait. The temperature has begun to rise. Unimpeded by clouds, the desert sun warms the hills and valleys for the coming pageant. The stage is set for the annual flower show.

The icon of the Sonoran Desert, the saguaro cactus, is preparing for its leading role in the production. Standing over ten feet tall, those saguaros mature enough to flower await the signal to produce their buds, blossoms and fruit in the weeks to come. Their tops and arms show no hint of it yet.  But it’s coming. Every spring, like clockwork, the flowers appear. But for the moment, we wait.

Anticipation is the first in a seven-part series following the cycle of one particular Saguaro cactus at the ranch. We will watch the buds form, the flowers bloom and then die. Then comes the fruit and its stages. We hope you enjoy following along!

BUD

They are subtle when they first appear, almost shy. Tiny, marble-sized bumps among the spines at the tops of the saguaros and the tops of the saguaro’s arms become crowns of buds within a few days. The waiting continues. Some of the saguaros at Tanque Verde Ranch have shown their flowers this year, but the promise is now there on our saguaro. All about, the cacti are preparing their display. The prickly pear present their flower buds and new pads together on the rims of the mature pads. Their flowers open along with those of the saguaros. The diminutive hedgehog has begun presenting their magenta cups. With a carpet of annuals about them, the cacti continue the Sonoran Desert’s flower show.

Bud is the second in a seven-part series following this particular cactus through its seasonal stages.

Rick Hartigan is a Naturalist at Tanque Verde Ranch and is also a Public Information Officer with the Central Arizona Incident Management Team. (Which is the long name for a fire team that travels the country dealing with forest fires.)