YUMA TERRITORIAL PRISON.

If you drive by the prison, cells gouged from the south wall are visible from the road, along with the Mission Church Steeple and the two famous bridges that cross the once mighty Colorado River. Though we visited the prison on a previous visit, we decided to do it again.


The prison is now a state park and when you look over the edge from above, the territory around the river is wild;  sand, river bed, desert stretching all the way to Mexico and even horseback riders on this day. Three-Ten to Yuma was filmed here.


Inmates built the prison cell block by cell block after the first building was built in 1875, approved by the legislature as a territorial prison, since Arizona was not yet a state. This edifice was actually a well, once covered by planks, then later electricity was used to pump water. Later still, Covered over and a guard tower erected on top of it. The well and electricity gave the place a reputation as being a country club.


While true, the prisoners were also correct in calling it a Hell Hole.


Still, inmates desperate to escape, tried many times to do so. Some made it. Most failed.


Territorial law was harsh.


Otherwise law abiding citizens, yes, but no prostitutes were arrested, the type of woman men appreciated.


The sister, who was single, was not arrested.


As consenting adults, we take our freedoms for granted.


After many times serving in solitary for breaking prison rules, and two escape attempts, inmate C.E. Hobard finally settled in and served his life term for murder.

He worked all day in the quarry, building more cells; during his spare time he made beautiful lace. Several shops on the grounds gave inmates the opportunity to make and sell things. If they couldn't make a tin cup, for instance, they did without a cup. Draconian.


There were some real bad guys. Leslie worked with Wyaat Earp at the Oriental Bar in Tombstone. He killed Billy Clairborne of the Clanton Gang. He killed his girlfriend in a drunken rage. Earp claimed Leslie was the only gunman who could compare with the speed and accuracy of Doc Holiday with a six-gun.  Yet, he only served 10 years of his life term.

The original bunks were wooden, but lice and bedbugs were so endemic, they changed them to metal.

Adding to the hell hole of discomfort, hard metal beds, open cells like this were ventilated during Yuma's hot summers, even if metal doors heated up to the point you could burn yourself to touch one. But during winter, you froze at night. Other open-on-one-end cells were deadly hot in summer, but a bit warmer at night and winter. A perfect lose, lose.


Punishments, if obeyed by administrators, were simple but also harsh. The ball and chain confinement in a solitary cell, or the Dark Cell. An unlighted area, no toilets, no change of clothing, multiple people chained to the steel grid on the floor at the same time, with no light nor ability to lie down. One man served 102 days in this cell and came out a model prisoner. Two women served time in this cell for breaking rules.  Stinkin' brutal.


The prison is a fascinating place to visit. They have a gunfighters gathering on the grounds the first two weekends of January that was a wonderfully costumed competition we attended in 2011, I believe. It is worth planning your visit during that event.
When the prison closed, it was used by various organizations, most notably, a High School, and later a home for people displaced during the depression.


The High School Mascot was the Crims, for criminals. Don't miss the historic Territorial Prison tour when you visit Yuma.

MEMORIES OF YUMA.

Yuma was the first place I stayed with Jim when my kids thought I’d taken up with an ax murderer. Well, not really, but they were very protective and worried about me taking up with a man they didn’t know. Thus the blog for me I started in December of 2008. I have happy memories of the green, green fields of Yuma, biking along the canals, and beautiful Bougainvillea growing like wild in this city. Right after lunch, we went in search and on the way found an Elks Club. We were astonished that they have 1600 members. Many of them are snowbirds. We stopped for a beer but the minute someone lit up a cigarette we hastily left.

This is the Bougainvillea from January, 2009. I’m shocked at what  poor pictures I got from my little camera. When we drove by, the bush had been chopped to practically nothing with no blooms on it.

And, green fields in Yuma are visible everywhere it seems. The big lettuces, cabbages, spinach and kale we didn’t find, except for this already harvested iceberg lettuce.

And, of course, this is what I was expecting to see, also from January 2009.

There is still a lot of green.

What appears to be a small lettuce of some type.

I believe this is alfalfa. No denying the green, but the fields of memory we could not find. Ah, what the wise men say is true. You can’t go home again.

We are parked at the Quechen Indian Casino and each day look up at the Mission Church associated with the Yuma Territorial prison.

Last night, so typical of this part of the country, the scene turned to caramel.

Then it darkened.

And reddened, good night. Probably boring pictures but like a tv screen, the sunsets just attract your eye and we are so happy we get to enjoy them.

THE SUN IS SHINING SOMEWHERE.

Despite a bad news day, we woke up this morning to a beautiful sunrise and it behooves us to remind ourselves that the sun is always shining somewhere.


I told Jim I was hungry to see some green but we left early for Los Algodones for Jim’s eye appointment and I caught a group harvesting kale as we drove by. That isn’t enough green for me. I’m remembering when we stayed here for two months in 2008. I need to make up for our brown winter in Murphys.


We ran the gauntlet of hawkers trying to get you to use their eye doctors or their dentist. Every few minutes someone sticks a card in your face. Algodones was practically empty from what we saw two years ago. The town has five hundred dental offices with two to three dentists in each one. The biggest concentration, so we are told, in the world.


The streets and alleys are like one big bazaar, with goods hanging everywhere for sale, to bargain.


Much of it stuff you don’t need but talk about colorful and fun.  I did buy a scarf.


The economy in Algodones is affected by the drug cartel mess and less people making the trip. We were amazed at the five-minute wait to get back across the border instead of the 40 minutes it normally takes.  So people here are suffering for business as well. This courtyard at one time held a fountain and a lot of sales goods. Now it holds tables for strolling musicians and multiple restaurants in a circle to choose from.


We walked around town for a an hour or so waiting for Jim’s glasses to be finished and we visited my dentist to have a new mouth guard made. His prices went up from thirty dollars last time to eighty dollars this time. I probably won’t go back to him. San Luis is cheaper, about 25 miles down the road. There is the back part of town not so pretty. A lot of places closed and for sale.


This cute little dog was irresistible and not for sale, of course.


We always eat at the same place, Birrias, where they sell you a whole chicken or fish and shrimp tacos for lunch with a beer for seven dollars. I usually order the chicken but talked to an American woman who said the tacos were as good as the chicken. And, they were.


They give you gobs of condiments as well. Yum.


Birriras doesn’t have musicians but we listened to musicians at another restaurant. We had my Little Siamese clock fixed and and picked it up before we got back to the motor home. Jim found out he has cataracts, which is also fixable, but not in Algodones. Mexican border towns are not dangerous during the day time. It is at night you don’t want to cross over. We did border crossings in January of last year when a local cop told us, don’t worry about drug activity during the day. Go, enjoy your dinner, and we did. Algodones has not had any drug violence like other places, anyway. So if you are worried, don’t be.

PEACE AND REMEMBRANCE

My sister, Dawn, died yesterday after struggling with cancer. This is her high school graduation picture.

Her first communion. Families mostly took pictures on special occasions.


Dawn, the oldest, Bill, the first son, and myself, the baby.
Then, another brother, Dan, peeking out of the car.


In her Air Force Uniform.  I idolized my sister when we were growing up.

We didn’t have a family picture taken until Dawn was married and had four children of her own.  In front is Norman, Mark, on Dad’s lap, Clark on Mom’s lap, and Dan.
Mark died at age 50 in 2005. Dan died at age 59 in 2002. It is hard to lose siblings. But, I’ve discovered that those we lose are never gone. They stay with us always. I am thankful for remembrance of the times we shared.

THAI AND MEX IN ONE DAY.

It was a long slog from Murphys to the Sacramento Airport to fly to Yuma. I got stalled in commuter traffic and worried that I'd make my flight in time even though I allowed an extra hour. Something new called Pre-security where I didn't have to take off my shoes, or put anything out in trays?  Fast and easy, I liked it. And, Finally able to relax, I had just enough time to enjoy a big bowl of Thai chicken soup for my breakfast. It was very good; plentiful and full of chicken.


My flight was so full on both legs, they were removing carry-on bags and putting them in checked baggage. Three flights leaving at one gate within minutes of each other made for crowded conditions and a few snafus. An older man and his wife asked us to vacate our seats. They had the same number as myself and my seat mate. It turned out they were on the wrong plane. But, I arrived in Yuma, met Jim and we headed for a Mexican restaurant.


As we crossed the bridge over the Southern Crossing of the Colorado River, I was reminded of our previous stay in Yuma in 2008 and my conversation with my seat mate on the plane. A young business woman, she asked me what there is to see and do in Yuma? I told her about the historically important southern crossing, the Yuma territorial prison, the vast green fields of produce grown here and watered by canals. Growers ship 20,000 container trucks of produce all over the United States from here during the winter months by train. Up to a hundred containers a day stacked two high leave Yuma.  With a brown winter in Murphys, I'm hungry for that green. Today, I want to drive by green fields.


At La Fonda, I enjoyed a wonderful tasting tortilla soup.


Jim had a sumptuous chicken tostada.  Ahhh! Mex and Thai in the same day. Sweet!


We are boondocking at the Quechen Casino. There are probably 100 rigs in the parking lot. Jim laughed at my surprise and told me that last week there were about 12 rigs parked here.


On our evening walk, we found one rig that looked like a derelict from the Slabs, where we will visit soon. I love the Slabs. Can't wait to see the changes from 2008.