Millville Arizona

Millville, Arizona, is a ghost town in Cochise County, located along the San Pedro River, approximately nine miles southwest of Tombstone. Established in the late 1870s during the Arizona Territory’s silver mining boom, Millville served as a milling hub for processing silver ore from Tombstone’s mines. Closely tied to the nearby town of Charleston, Millville’s history reflects the rapid rise and fall of mining communities in the American West. This report explores Millville’s origins, economic significance, social dynamics, decline, and current status, drawing on historical accounts and archaeological insights.

Millville, sister town to Charleston located just across the San Pedro River, circa 1880
Millville, sister town to Charleston located just across the San Pedro River, circa 1880

Origins and Establishment

Ed Schieffelin
Ed Schieffelin

Millville emerged in 1878 following Ed Schieffelin’s discovery of silver in the Tombstone area. Schieffelin, along with his brother Al and partner Richard Gird, recognized the need for a milling operation to process the raw silver ore into bullion. The San Pedro River’s water supply made it an ideal location, as water was essential for ore refinement, unlike the water-scarce Tombstone. Gird selected a site on the east bank of the San Pedro River, where two stamp mills—the Gird Mill and the Corbin Mill—were constructed to crush and process ore. Millville was formally established as the industrial heart of the region, with Charleston, on the west bank, serving as the residential and commercial settlement for mill workers and their families.

The town’s layout was functional, centered around the milling operations. By May 1879, Millville had a post office, though it closed less than a year later on May 3, 1880, as Charleston became the primary residential hub. The mills relied on surface water corralled by Gird’s dam, which powered six mills at peak production, operating day and night from Millville to Contention City.

Economic Significance

Millville’s economy was driven by its role in silver processing. At its peak between April 1881 and April 1882, the mills produced $1,380,336.97 in bullion, a staggering amount for the time, equivalent to tens of millions in today’s dollars. The Gird Mill alone processed 15 to 20 tons of ore daily, with mule teams hauling 40,000 to 50,000 pounds of ore from Tombstone. This output fueled the regional economy, attracting workers, merchants, and opportunists to the San Pedro Valley.

The mills’ success depended on infrastructure like Gird’s dam, which controlled water flow from the San Pedro River. However, the dam sparked controversies with local ranchers, who contested the mills’ water usage. Floods occasionally breached the dam, causing disruptions, such as in 1881 when a man nearly drowned crossing the swollen river. Despite these challenges, Millville’s mills were a cornerstone of the Tombstone silver boom, processing ore that enriched investors and sustained the region’s growth.

Social Dynamics and Reputation

Millville’s social fabric was shaped by its industrial focus and proximity to Charleston, which had a rowdier reputation. Millville itself was strictly controlled by Richard Gird, who prohibited alcohol to maintain order among workers, a contrast to Charleston’s liberal leasing laws and saloons. The mills were dangerous workplaces, with accounts of violent incidents, such as a worker allegedly killing another and disposing of the body in a furnace.

Charleston, home to about 400 residents at its peak, housed mill workers and their families, as well as notorious figures like Frank Stilwell, a saloon owner and deputy sheriff suspected of murdering Morgan Earp, and the Clanton Gang, whose ranch was five miles south. Despite Charleston’s reputation as “tougher and livelier than Tombstone,” fueled by Eastern newspapers, the Tombstone Epitaph in May 1882 described it as “well regulated and free from turmoil.” Millville, by contrast, was quieter, focused on industry rather than social life. No successful robberies of silver or payroll were recorded, though a failed attempt in Millville on March 25, 1882, resulted in the murder of mining engineer M. R. Peel.

The region’s cultural landscape was enriched by pre-Columbian petroglyphs near the river, which attracted visitors and added historical depth. Informational signs along trails today highlight this heritage, connecting Millville’s brief existence to the area’s longer human history.

Decline and Abandonment

Millville’s decline began in 1886 when Tombstone’s silver mines flooded, halting ore production. The discovery of water beneath Tombstone allowed milling to shift closer to the mines, reducing the need for Millville’s riverside operations. A miners’ strike in 1885–1886 and the 1887 earthquake further weakened the region’s economy. By 1889, both Millville and Charleston were largely abandoned, earning their status as ghost towns. Small-scale smelting continued in Millville until 1892, and ore dumps were revisited after 1900 with improved technology, but the town never recovered.

Charleston’s infrastructure was dismantled by Mexican residents who used materials for firewood, while Millville’s stone embankments and adobe foundations eroded. The Arizona and Southeastern Railroad’s construction altered local drainage, further threatening the sites’ preservation. By the early 20th century, Millville was a relic, its mills reduced to crumbling ruins.

Current Status and Preservation

Today, Millville is part of the San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area, managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). The site is accessible via a 1.8-mile loop trail, the Millville Historic Townsite and Rock Art Discovery Trail, which features interpretive signs about the area’s history and petroglyphs. The trail, rated as easy, takes about 38 minutes to complete and offers views of the San Pedro River, ghost town ruins, and natural features. Visitors report informative signage but note the lack of shade and occasional hazards like rattlesnakes.

The BLM and organizations like the Friends of the San Pedro River work to preserve the sites, though no official signage marks Millville along Charleston Road. The ruins consist of stone walls, adobe foundations, and remnants of the Gird and Corbin Mills, visible from the trail. The nearby Clanton Ranch, Fairbanks ghost town, and Presidio Santa Cruz de Terranate add to the region’s historical attractions.

Conclusion

Millville, Arizona, encapsulates the fleeting prosperity of the Wild West’s mining boom. From its founding in 1878 to its abandonment by 1889, the town played a critical role in processing Tombstone’s silver, driving economic growth in the San Pedro Valley. Its industrial focus, contrasted with Charleston’s lively social scene, highlights the diverse dynamics of frontier life. Though reduced to ruins, Millville’s legacy endures through preserved trails and historical narratives, offering a glimpse into Arizona’s rugged past. The San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area ensures that Millville’s story, alongside its natural and cultural surroundings, remains accessible to future generations.

Millville Town Summary

NameMillville, Arizona
LocationCochise County, Arizona
Latitude, Longitude31.6350, -110.1737
Elevation1216 meters / 3990 feet
GNIS
Post OfficeMay 26, 1879 – May 3, 1880

Millville Trail Map

Millville is located about 9 miles southwest of Tombstone, Arizona. Charleston and Millville are not accessible by car and can only be reached by hiking up the San Pedro River. The Bureau of Land Management has begun maintaining trails to and from the area. 

Refereces

  • GhostTowns.com
  • AllTrails. Millville Historic Townsite and Rock Art Discovery Trail.
  • Archaeology Southwest. Charleston and Millville Sites.
  • Wyatt Earp Explorers. Charleston & Millville, A.T. by John D. Rose.
  • Natural Atlas. Millville Historic Townsite.
  • Roadtrippers. Charleston & Millville Historic Townsite.
  • Michael Kleen. The Ruins of Millville and Charleston, Arizona.
  • Ghost Towns of Arizona. Millville Ghost Town.
  • Southern Arizona Guide. Exploring the Millville Ruins with the FSPR.

William Brocius

William "Curly Bill" Brocius
William “Curly Bill” Brocius

William Brocius, better known as “Curly Bill” Brocius, was a notorious outlaw of the American Old Old West, born around 1845, though some sources suggest 1840 or 1858. His birthplace remains uncertain, with speculation pointing to Crawfordsville, Indiana, Texas, or Missouri. His birth name is equally elusive, with possible names including William Graham, William Bresnaham, or William Brosius. Some accounts suggest he was born William Graham in Indiana, where he reportedly worked as a struggling farmer with a wife and three children—Jacob, Lizzie, and Ellie—before the Civil War. According to family lore, Brocius accepted $500 to serve as a substitute for a wealthy man drafted into the Union Army, leaving his family behind. After the war, he did not return home, possibly spending time in the South before resurfacing in the Arizona Territory by the late 1870s.

Criminal Beginnings

Brocius’s criminal career began to take shape in the late 1870s. He may have been linked to William “Curly Bill” Bresnaham, who, along with Robert “Dutch” Martin, was convicted of an attempted robbery of an Army wagon in Texas in 1878. The pair was sentenced to five years in Huntsville prison but escaped, possibly fleeing to the Arizona Territory. Brocius was also associated with the Jesse Evans gang in New Mexico during the Lincoln County War, a conflict that involved Billy the Kid. By 1878, Brocius had settled in Arizona, initially delivering cattle to the San Carlos Reservation before gravitating to the boomtown of Tombstone.

Life in Tombstone and the Clanton Gang

Tombstone, Arizona, was a wild, silver-rich town in the late 1870s, described as the “toughest town on earth.” Brocius, a heavy-set man over six feet tall with dark curly hair, dark eyes, and a reputation for unpredictability, quickly became a central figure in the Cochise County Cowboys, a loose-knit gang of rustlers and outlaws led by the Clanton family. Known for his quick draw and trick shooting—able to hit running jackrabbits or shoot quarters from volunteers’ fingers—Brocius was both feared and charismatic. His “Jekyll-and-Hyde” personality made him a volatile leader, respected by the likes of “Old Man” Clanton and his sons, particularly the reckless Billy Clanton.

Brocius’s criminal activities included cattle rustling, stagecoach robbery, and murder. After Old Man Clanton’s death in an ambush in 1881, Brocius assumed leadership of the Cowboys, which grew to over 400 members and became the largest rustling operation in American history, operating across Arizona, New Mexico, and Mexico. His most infamous act was the Skeleton Canyon Massacre in July 1881, where he and his gang ambushed a Mexican trail herd, killed six vaqueros, and reportedly tortured and murdered others, netting over $75,000 in loot. This massacre, which left bleached bones scattered in the canyon, drew the ire of President James Garfield, who demanded the gang’s dissolution.

The Shooting of Fred White

Fred White
Fred White

Brocius’s notoriety peaked on October 27, 1880, when he shot Tombstone’s first marshal, Fred White, during a chaotic night of gunfire on Allen Street. The Clanton gang, including Brocius, was recklessly shooting up the town. When White confronted Brocius near the Birdcage Theater and attempted to disarm him, Brocius’s .45 discharged, fatally wounding White in the abdomen. Wyatt Earp, then a deputy sheriff, pistol-whipped and arrested Brocius. White, before dying two days later, testified that he believed the shooting was accidental, a claim supported by Wyatt Earp and a demonstration that Brocius’s pistol could fire from half-cock. Brocius was acquitted in November 1880, but the incident fueled his enmity with the Earp family, marking the start of the Earp-Cowboy feud.

Escalating Conflicts and the Earp Vendetta

Brocius’s vendetta against the Earps intensified after the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral in October 1881, where Billy Clanton and the McLaury brothers were killed. Brocius was absent during the gunfight, possibly recovering from a gunshot wound to the face sustained earlier that year. He was implicated in the ambush of Virgil Earp in December 1881 and the assassination of Morgan Earp in March 1882, though evidence of his direct involvement is inconclusive. Some reports suggest he left Arizona in December 1881 to avoid a larceny charge, casting doubt on his presence during these events.

Death or Disappearance

On March 24, 1882, Wyatt Earp claimed to have killed Brocius during a shootout at Iron Springs (now Mescal Springs) in the Whetstone Mountains. According to Earp, his posse stumbled upon Brocius and other Cowboys cooking a meal. In the ensuing gunfight, Earp shot Brocius in the chest with a shotgun, killing him instantly. However, no body was recovered, and Brocius’s grave has never been identified. Some accounts, including those from Cowboys’ associates, suggest his body was buried at Frank Patterson’s ranch near the Babocomari River. Others, including contemporary sources, argue Brocius had already left Arizona or fled to Mexico, and the lack of physical evidence fueled speculation that he survived. The Tombstone Nugget and Epitaph offered rewards of $1,000 and $2,000, respectively, for proof of his death, but no one claimed them.

Legacy and Controversy

Curly Bill Brocius remains an enigmatic figure, his true identity obscured by aliases and conflicting accounts. Described as crafty, conscienceless, and a born killer, he was both a feared outlaw and a charismatic leader. His supposed death at Wyatt Earp’s hands is one of the Old West’s enduring mysteries, with historians divided on whether he died in 1882 or returned to Texas, possibly living until 1909 as William Albert Brosius. His story has been immortalized in films like Tombstone (1993), where Powers Boothe portrayed him as a ruthless yet remorseful antagonist, and in books by historians like Steve Gatto, who dubbed him “Tombstone’s Most Famous Outlaw.” Brocius’s life encapsulates the lawlessness and violence of the Arizona Territory, leaving a legacy as one of the Wild West’s most infamous figures.

George ‘Brownie’ Holmes

George “Brownie” Holmes (April 11, 1892 – April 11, 1980) was a notable figure in Arizona history, best known for his lifelong pursuit of the Lost Dutchman Mine, a legendary gold mine in the Superstition Mountains. Born in Phoenix, Arizona Territory, Holmes was deeply connected to the region’s pioneer heritage and spent over six decades searching for the elusive mine, following in the footsteps of his father, Richard J. “Dick” Holmes. This report explores Holmes’ life, his contributions to the lore of the Lost Dutchman Mine, and his lasting legacy.

The skull of Adolph Ruth being held by searcher Brownie Holmes.
The skull of Adolph Ruth being held by searcher Brownie Holmes.

Early Life and Background

George Brown Holmes was born on April 11, 1892, in Phoenix, Arizona Territory, just months after the death of Jacob Waltz, the prospector associated with the Lost Dutchman Mine. His nickname “Brownie” derived from his grandmother’s maiden name, Brown, as his father wanted him to carry both family names—Holmes and Brown. Holmes came from a pioneering Arizona family. His grandfather, Richard J. Holmes Sr., arrived in Arizona in 1847, when it was still part of Mexico, and worked as a geologist and mineralogist, discovering gold at La Paz in 1853. His father, Dick Holmes, was a rancher and civilian packer for the U.S. Army, born in 1865 at Old Fort Whipple.

Holmes grew up immersed in Arizona’s rugged frontier culture. His father’s involvement in the search for the Lost Dutchman Mine, sparked by Waltz’s deathbed confession in 1891, profoundly influenced Brownie’s life. Dick Holmes claimed to have received a box of gold ore and directions to the mine from Waltz, setting the stage for Brownie’s lifelong quest.

Career and Lifestyle

Holmes led a varied career rooted in Arizona’s outdoor and ranch. He worked as a ranch hand for much of his life, notably for the Barkley family, and spent a decade with the Arizona Fish and Game Department as a packer and trapper. He also drove a stagecoach along the Apache Trail for Wes Hill, a role that connected him to the Superstition Mountains and its lore. A World War I veteran, Holmes served in what was then called the Great War, adding to his rugged persona.

Despite his adventurous life, Holmes was reserved about the Lost Dutchman Mine, avoiding interviews and public disputes. He relished anonymity, believing it allowed him to search for the mine without interference from other treasure hunters. His work as a cowboy and his time in the Superstition Mountains gave him intimate knowledge of the terrain, which he leveraged in his searches.

The Lost Dutchman Mine and Holmes’ Role

Holmes’ pursuit of the Lost Dutchman Mine began with his father’s legacy. Dick Holmes, present at Waltz’s deathbed in 1891, allegedly received gold ore and cryptic directions to the mine. After Dick’s death in 1930, Brownie continued the search, spending over 60 years exploring the Superstition Mountains. His belief in the mine’s existence was unwavering, rooted in his father’s accounts and physical evidence like gold ore samples.

Holmes was a significant oral historian of the Lost Dutchman legend, sharing stories with select individuals about key figures like Jacob Waltz, Julia Thomas, and the Petrasch brothers. However, he was cautious, often providing contradictory or vague information, possibly to protect the mine’s location. Some Dutchman hunters speculated that Holmes deliberately misled others to safeguard his search.

The Holmes Manuscript

One of Holmes’ most controversial contributions is the Holmes Manuscript, a 41-page document allegedly authored by him around 1944 with the help of ghostwriter Charles Kenison. The manuscript includes a nine-page section titled The True Story of the Lost Dutchman of the Superstitions as Told to Me by My Father Dick Holmes, by Jacob Wolz on His Deathbed. It details Dick Holmes’ experience at Waltz’s deathbed and Brownie’s subsequent searches. However, Holmes denied writing it, though he admitted to providing much of the information.

The manuscript is contentious due to its embellishments (e.g., references to “tiny dwarf deer”), factual inaccuracies, and differing writing styles between sections. Some believe Holmes commissioned it to attract investors or partners, but abandoned the project after disagreements with Kenison. The manuscript resurfaced in the Arizona State Library archives in the 1970s and was later published in Dr. Thomas E. Glover’s book The Lost Dutchman Mine of Jacob Waltz, Part 2: The Holmes Manuscript. Despite its flaws, it remains a key historical document, offering insights into the early days of the Dutchman search.

The Matchbox Affidavit

In April 1969, Holmes provided a sworn affidavit detailing the provenance of a matchbox crafted from gold ore from Waltz’s mine. According to the affidavit, Dick Holmes sold Waltz’s gold to the Goldman Brothers Store in Phoenix in 1891. James “Jimmie” Douglas purchased the ore and had it made into a matchbox, which he gifted to Gus Hirschfeld for meritorious service. Hirschfeld later gave the matchbox to Holmes. The affidavit, notarized in Maricopa County, is considered significant evidence that Waltz possessed gold, supporting the mine’s existence. Additional jewelry, including cufflinks, a stud, a stickpin, and a ring, was also made from Waltz’s ore, with some pieces displayed at the Superstition Mountain Museum.

Connection to the Adolph Ruth Case

Lost Dutchman Mine searcher Adolph Ruth
Lost Dutchman Mine searcher Adolph Ruth

Holmes is linked to the 1931 disappearance and death of Adolph Ruth, a prospector searching for the Lost Dutchman Mine. In 1932, Holmes and his dog reportedly found Ruth’s skull on Black Top Mesa, which had bullet holes, fueling speculation of foul play. Some theories suggest Holmes may have been involved, though no evidence supports this. The Ruth case remains one of the darker chapters in the Dutchman saga, and Holmes’ discovery of the skull added to his mystique.

Personal Life and Legacy

Holmes married Thelma Neff-Harwick and had one daughter, Georgia, for whom he had a ring made from Waltz’s gold ore. Tragically, Georgia died young. Holmes was well-liked, with hundreds attending his memorial. He died of heart failure on his 88th birthday, April 11, 1980, at his Phoenix home. Per his wishes, his ashes were scattered in the Superstition Mountains, forever tying him to the land he loved.

Holmes’ legacy endures through his contributions to the Lost Dutchman Mine legend. His stories, the Holmes Manuscript, and the matchbox affidavit provide tangible links to Arizona’s frontier past. While he never found the mine, his dedication inspired generations of treasure hunters. In a 1980 conversation with friend Clay Worst, Holmes reflected, “Clay, I don’t know if the Dutchman lied to my father or not, but I know my father never lied to me, and I know I never lied to you,” underscoring his belief in the mine and his integrity.

Conclusion

George “Brownie” Holmes was a quintessential Arizona pioneer whose life intertwined with one of the West’s greatest mysteries. His relentless search for the Lost Dutchman Mine, rooted in family legacy and personal conviction, made him a central figure in its lore. Through his oral histories, the Holmes Manuscript, and the matchbox affidavit, Holmes left an indelible mark on Arizona history. His story embodies the spirit of adventure, perseverance, and the enduring allure of the unknown.

Sources

  • Tom Kollenborn Chronicles: George ‘Brownie’ Holmes
  • The Lost Dutchman Mine Part Seven: Brownie Holmes – Jason Roberts
  • George “Brownie” Holmes Affidavit – DesertUSA.com
  • Brownie Holmes Remembered – TreasureNet
  • The Holmes Manuscript – DesertUSA.com
  • The Brownie Holmes Manuscript – TreasureNet
  • The Holmes Manuscript (The Lost Dutchman Mine of Jacob Waltz, Part 2) – Amazon.com
  • Lost Dutchman Gold & Glenn Magill – The Arizona Report

Bisbee Daily Review Newspaper

Bisbee Daily Review Newspaper
Bisbee Daily Review Newspaper

The Bisbee Daily Review, a cornerstone of Arizonas journalistic history, emerged in 1901 and served the mining community of Bisbee until 1971. This paper traces its evolution from its origins as the Weekly Orb in 1896 through multiple title changes, political
shifts, and corporate influences, particularly the Phelps-Dodge Corporations control. By examining its role in reporting mining news, shaping public opinion, and navigating labor conflicts, this study highlights the newspapers significance in reflecting Bisbees
socio-economic dynamics. Drawing on archival records and secondary sources, the analysis underscores the Reviews transformation into a weekly publication and its eventual merger into modern periodicals, illustrating its enduring legacy in Cochise Countys media
landscape.

Introduction

Introducing the historical context and significance of the Bisbee Daily Review In the rugged mining town of Bisbee, Arizona, the Bisbee Daily Review emerged as a vital institution, chronicling the pulse of a community driven by copper extraction. Founded in 1901, the newspaper evolved from earlier publications, navigating a turbulent landscape of editorial changes, political affiliations, and corporate dominance. Its pages captured the aspirations and struggles of a mining hub, from labor disputes to community events, making it a primary source for understanding Arizona’s early 20th-century history. This paper explores the Review’s origins, its role under the Phelps-Dodge Corporation’s influence, its coverage of significant events like the 1917 Bisbee Deportation, and its eventual transition into contemporary publications, arguing that it was both a product and shaper of Bisbee’s socio-economic identity.

Origins and Early Evolution (1896–1901)

Tracing the newspaper’s roots and initial transformations The Bisbee Daily Review’s lineage began in 1896 with the Weekly Orb, an independent paper serving Bisbee’s burgeoning mining community. Under editors Alvan W. Howe and G.M. Porter, it transitioned into the Arizona Daily Orb in 1898, reflecting the town’s growing economic ambitions. The publication underwent rapid masthead changes, becoming the Cochise Review and Arizona Daily Orb in 1900, adopting a Republican stance, and later the Cochise Review and Bisbee Daily Herald. These shifts mirrored Bisbee’s dynamic political and economic landscape, as mining interests vied for influence.

By August 1901, the Cochise Review briefly aligned with Democratic principles, but stability arrived when William Kelly purchased it in November 1901. Kelly’s acquisition marked a pivotal moment, as the paper transitioned from a weekly to a daily format by mid-1902, renaming itself the Bisbee Daily Review. Promising “mining news from every county in Arizona” and billing itself as published in “the best mining city on earth,” the Review positioned itself as an authoritative voice for the region’s copper industry.

Corporate Influence and the Phelps-Dodge Era (1903–1971)


Analyzing the impact of Phelps-Dodge’s control on editorial content In 1903, William Kelly and his father, “Major” George Kelly, formed the Consolidated Printing Company, acquiring all dailies in Arizona’s southeastern mining districts. Their partnership with Walter Douglas of the Phelps-Dodge Corporation, a dominant force in Bisbee’s Copper Queen mine, tied the Review to corporate interests. By 1909, Phelps-Dodge began purchasing these newspapers, and by 1925, it owned the Review outright. Historian James Byrkit argues that Phelps-Dodge’s control “intimidated editors” and stifled criticism, ensuring “nothing reflecting unfavorably on the company would appear in newsprint”.

This corporate grip shaped the Review’s coverage, particularly during labor conflicts. The 1917 Bisbee Deportation, where Phelps-Dodge orchestrated the forced removal of striking miners, saw the Review praising citizen actions against strikers, reflecting its alignment with corporate interests \citep{uarizona}. Despite this bias, the newspaper remained a vital source of local news, offering insights into community life, from social events to economic developments.

Cultural and Editorial Features

Exploring the newspaper’s content and community role The Bisbee Daily Review was more than a corporate mouthpiece; it was a cultural institution. From 1940 to 1955, its Sunday editions featured black-and-white comic sections, transitioning to color from 1955 to 1959. Published as the Bisbee Sunday Review from 1925 to 1933, these editions fostered community engagement. The paper’s focus on mining news, alongside coverage of births, marriages, and obituaries, made it a repository of Bisbee’s social history.

Its archives, spanning 1901 to 1922 with over 54,617 searchable pages, reveal a commitment to documenting local life. Advertisements, such as those for the Bank of Bisbee in 1913, highlight economic aspirations, while notices for fraternal organizations like the Order of Eastern Star underscore community ties.

Transition and Legacy (1971–Present)

Detailing the Review’s decline and merger into modern publications The Review’s daily publication ended in 1971 when William Epler purchased it from Phelps-Dodge, reverting it to a weekly format. In 1974, the Wick family acquired the paper, merging it with the Daily Herald Dispatch in 1976. This consolidation birthed two enduring periodicals: the Sierra Vista Herald and Bisbee Daily Review, published in Sierra Vista, and the Bisbee Daily Review and Sierra Vista Herald, published in Bisbee. These publications continue to serve Cochise County, maintaining the Review’s legacy of community-focused journalism.

The Wick family’s stewardship, under Wick Communications, emphasized adaptability, with expansions in Sierra Vista’s facilities reflecting the evolving media landscape. The Review’s archives, available through the Library of Congress and Newspapers.com, remain invaluable for researchers, offering digitized access to Bisbee’s past.

Conclusion

Summarizing the Review’s historical significance The Bisbee Daily Review encapsulates the interplay of journalism, corporate power, and community identity in Arizona’s mining heartland. From its roots as the Weekly Orb to its role as a Phelps-Dodge-controlled daily, it mirrored Bisbee’s economic and social evolution. Its coverage of events like the Bisbee Deportation reveals the tensions between labor and capital, while its comic sections and local notices highlight its role as a community anchor. Though no longer a standalone daily, its legacy endures in the Sierra Vista Herald and Bisbee Daily Review, preserving Bisbee’s story for future generations. This historical analysis affirms the Review’s dual role as a reflection of and influence on the town’s complex history.

Upper Antelope Canyon

Located just outside of Page, Arizona Upper Antelope Canyon is arguably the best known slot canyon on the planet, yet few people will know its name outside of desert enthusiasts.  For those unaware of these structures, slot canyons are extremely narrow canyons, carved by water, which are typically just a few feet wide, but may be just a few inches.  The typically arid dessert can instantly turn into raging torrent of water in just a few minutes with just a few inches of water.  This water picks up speed, and debris such as sand, which scours the landscape including rock.  Antelope Canyon is found on Navajo Tribal land, and access to the canyon is only allowed with a Navajo Guide.

Molten Wave - Located in Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona Antelope Canyon is the best known slot canyon.
Molten Wave – Located in Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona Antelope Canyon is the best known slot canyon.
Parallelism – The smooth canyon walls of Antelop Canyon offer amazing photographic images.

Antelope Canyon is actually two separate slot canyons located a short distance from each other on either side of US 98.  Upper Antelope Canyon is know as Tse’ bighanilini, which in Navajo means “the place where water runs through rocks.”  Travel to the Canyon is done via Navajo run transport and you are allowed about 2 hours for your visit.  The site is at about 4,000 feet elevation and the canyon walls rise 120 feet above a stream bed.

I would like to thank the LeChee Chapter of the Navajo Nation for keeping this location sacred and available to us.

James Rathbun, Destination4x4.com

Access into the upper canyon is simply a walking into a canyon.  The trail is flat and sandy and very easy to manage.  Upon entrance into the Upper Antelope Canyon you are immediately struck by the texture and color of this place.  Just inside the entrance, is a small chamber which seems to great you, and the pink and orange glow of the light bouncing off the walls force your eyes up.  The geography is such, that the narrow opening high above you lets in a small fraction of the available light, and that light bounces down towards the bottom of the canyon.

Relatively short, Upper Antelope Canyon may be traversed in just 5 minutes.  However, this is simply a waste of your time if you just rush through.  The only complaint of the canyon, are the other visitors.  As a photographer, I have many photographs ruined by people turning a corner and walking into my frame while I was making an exposure.  This does not mean they were rude or anything but patient, but rather an unfortunate side effect of composing photographs with long exposure times in a 18 inch wide slot Canyon.

French Curve - Upper Antelope Canyon
French Curve – Upper Antelope Canyon

As with all beautiful things, we must share this location and Antelope Canyon is a must stop location every time I visit the area.  There is a hidden danger, in that the very forces which sculpt a slot canyon are still very much in play and every few years a new story will appear about someone being killed in a slot canyon due to a sudden flash flood.

I would like to thank the LeChee Chapter of the Navajo Nation for keeping this location sacred and available to us.

Upper Antelope Canyon Map