SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN CONTINUED

From our visit to Superstition Mountain Museum continued from yesterday,  what is an old western movie set without a gallows?  There is a real gallows still intact at the Tuolumne County Museum, in Sonora, California.  Much wider than this one; had to have room for the dignitaries. Hangings were as much about politics as a press conference is today.

Wherever there were fortune seekers, there were those who sidestepped the hard work.  I love museums that have “character stories” and this one has a number of them. The “hacksaw” bandit  robbed stage coaches on the Apache Trail.  He always robbed them at the a steep place where the horses found it hard going. Never caught, his cache of hold-up equipment, with his white hood with eye holes in it, was found over 50 years after his deeds.

Fortune seekers of all types arrived in Apache Junction.   An Opera Singer by the name of  Maria,  insisted that Weaver’s Needle, (a spire we passed on our hike) was hollow and filled with gold. She filed a claim on Weaver’s Needle and had a rope ladder built to the top of it. No one knows what happened to her and she apparently abandoned her claim, but two families, Piper and Jones,  believed it was hollow and a feud of several years, that resulted in the death of one person, quarreled over the  Dutchman’s claim and the gold in the “hollow” needle. Years later, in 1956, a very fit wrestling coach climbed Maria’s rope ladder but could not get to the top. “No fat opera singer ever climbed that ladder,” he claimed. There are many stories of the fate of gold seekers in the Superstition Mountains at the site below:

.http://www.prairieghosts.com/dutchman.html
I chuckled at the  modern million dollar advertising campaign put up by Canadian Club. They hid a case of Canadian Club in the area and expected to have many seekers looking for it, while being publicized, of course. The problem was, a local found it in six hours the second day of the campaign and ruined their long term publicity stunt.  He claimed he was mighty thirsty.

The place is worth a visit.  I loved the painting of a stage rumbling over the Apache Trail. The rest of my pictures are outside.

Part of a once working stamp mill.

The well.

The assay office.

A saloon.

A barber shop.

The barn.

 

 

And, our good Christian pioneers always had a church.  (In this case, with the gallows nearby.)

 

THE LAST HURRAH!

When you know you have to go, when you know you must face life’s little realities like taxes and a leak in the roof…the vacation is over.  Home for five weeks and then back to the motor home in a whole new state I’ve only whisked through before, North Carolina.
Yesterday was the last hurrah, a pass through N’awlins, some  good food and beer; a last little gander at the balconies, the beautiful iron work,  the signs…oh nostalgia.
The oyster shuckers, Ebony and Ivory, their nicknames, neither were working. No oysters until late in the day.
Instead we had a great beer at Crescent City on the balcony and enjoyed the view,  moved on to the Masparro Cafe. A salad so loaded with fresh grated cheese, I thought it was pizza. A jambalaya so loaded with shrimp, I couldn’t take a mouthful without a shrimp in every bite. Washed down with a turbo dog. Ahhh! N’awlins  is a great city. ( (I learned the correct pronunciation at the Jean LaFitte National Historic Museum.)

Getting into town was a difficult; several closed streets and parking taken up by Hollywood Trucks. We ran into a movie set. We didn’t want to watch and moved on. And, they wouldn’t let us park on the sidewalk, can you imagine?

But on our return walk to the parking meter, the Hollywood Trucks were everywhere with snacks for the workers, a honey-wagon, light boxes and equipment literally by the ton. Big picture show stufff.

We asked, what movie and who? Reds the name, with Morgan Freeman and Bruce Willis. Didn’t figure we’d see them anyway, but now we can look for the scene in the movie when it comes out. The camera crews were still doing side shots and the gawkers were fun to watch.

This Jean LaFitte National Park was the smallest of the six cultural centers they have in Louisiana. With this one, we’ve seen them all. I wasn’t in  museum mood.  The day was sunny and  beautiful; the streets normal instead of a mob, except, for the crowds around the movie set. Peeked into the souvenir shops, and art galleries, enjoyed the ironwork.

The last thing I heard as we were climbing back into the Bronco was the clip-clop of horses hooves and the driver of the carriage admonishing his horse gently, “Now, you know you can’t beat that car,” as he reined him in before crossing the street. Such good memories.
I hope all of you have enjoyed this trek with me. I expect I’ll be absent from these pages for a bit as I get back into the home groove, but not for long.