Drusilla Claridge has combined a fascination with history and an appetite for the outdoors since coming to New Mexico 23 years ago. She has participated in reenactments of the Rocky Mountain fur trade rendezvous, wearing authentic period Cheyenne clothing, and sleeping in a teepee. She has handled horses since she was a teenager, and has travelled horseback in the Gila Wilderness. She frequents New Mexico's hot springs, and has participated in a sweatlodge ceremony conducted by a Jicarilla Apache.
Dru worked on the Gila National Forest as a fire lookout in 1979, 1988, and 1989. The journal she kept was excerpted in a piece published by Stackpole Books. The book, Go Tell It On the Mountain, an anthology of lookout writing, includes the works of Edward Abbey, Doug Peacock, Jackie Johnson Maughan and others. In the summer of 1996 Claridge went back to tower work.
Dru worked on the historic districts of Silver City, New Mexico, reading nineteenth century newspapers, conducting oral history interviews, and photographing historic adobe buildings. Her work, writing technical documents on the history and architecture of Southwest New Mexico, allowed significant properties to be listed with the National and State Registries of Historic Places.
In the late 1980s, she lived in remote Quemado, New Mexico, and reported for the Catron County Courier. She also visited every lookout tower on the Gila National Forest, photographing them for the U.S Forest Service.
Her historical novel, Peacock Ore, is now available from 1st Books Library. The book depicts two cultures and their fight over the Mogollon mining district in the 1870's. On one side was the great Apache chief Victorio, with his sister Lozen, warrior and medicine woman; on the other was Sergeant James Cooney, with his Irish miners. The Silver City Daily Press pronounced it a "must read for Southwest history buffs." To order a copy, call 1-888-280-7715, or visit www.1stbooks.com .
In addition to writing, Dru also creates desert landscape pastels.
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Sometimes the unseen hand of fate descends to arrange a unique opportunity. When visiting Steins (pronounced Steens) Railroad Ghost Town, just off I-10 in southern New Mexico near the Arizona state line, I had the chance to take a rare photograph.
We hadn't been there ten minutes when a pair of Southern Pacific locomotives pulling a train of empty cargo containers stopped at Steins, held up by track repair ahead. I persuaded the engineer to ease the train up fifty feet so I could frame the photo the way I wanted it.
A talk with one of the engineers divulged some interesting information. The train was traveling from Tucson, Arizona to El Paso, Texas - a trip that sometimes takes as long as 18 hours. The entire train weighed in at 4000 tons, one of the lighter affairs, since they average around 10,000 tons. A train takes about 20 minutes to get up to full speed, and about a mile to brake to a halt. Bigger trains and high speed trains take even longer to brake. The larger of the locomotives was a 1994 model, and it stood purring and burping behind us while we talked.
After talking to the engineers, I took the photo of the train stopped at Steins crossing, then went into Steins Mercantile. Owner Larry Link unlimbered himself from his chair and gave me a tour of Stein's Railroad Ghost Town. The tour costs $2.50 and is well worth it. Between Larry's tour and interviewing the train engineer, the day was most educational!
The first stagecoaches passed by Steins Peak, 5 miles north of Steins, in 1857, connecting San Antonio, Texas with San Diego, California. In 1858 the earlier stageline was replaced by the Butterfield Overland Stage; the route is more easily identifiable as the old Butterfield Road. The town of Steins was born in 1880, when the Southern Pacific Railroad arrived. The name Steins comes from Capt. Enoch Steen, a U.S. Army officer who participated in the Apache Wars.
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Larry pointed out rock and log structures straight out of the 1880s. Bedrooms with children's clothing and toys, a communal kitchen, and living quarters for an entire family have been re-created. Outside the kitchen was a huge kettle set in a mortared rock wall. When in use, the fire was stoked underneath and the kettle used for laundry or cooking. "The first serving of stew would have tasted of lye soap or dirty socks," Larry said.
He showed me a campstove of the type used in covered wagons. A small iron box that held firewood, about two feet in length, had no legs: When traveling in a covered wagon it was set in a box of dirt. Larry's research has brought to light the fact that when under attack, pioneer parents would stow their babies in these boxes. The iron protected the child from arrows and bullets.
The collection of artifacts at Steins includes everything from rare books to an unusual "boxing glove" cholla cactus and hundreds of old bottles. Boxes and boxes of stuff still fill unused rooms; Larry and Linda have their work cut out for them. Between his research and inventorying his collection, Larry has become a fountain of knowledge on nineteenth century living, southwestern history, Apache folklore, and railroad history.
Almost shouting distance from Steins is a rock bluff from which many tons of rock were blasted to make the roadbed for the railway. One thousand Chinese rail workers lived at the foot of the mountain at "Old Steins." Larry showed me the antique steam drills that were used in the quarry, explaining that they were called "widow-makers" for their propensity to maim or kill the user. Work in the quarry began in 1878 and continued until 1925. Larry says rock from the Steins quarry was shipped to far points for building projects in addition to being used in the railbed.
Steins grew to a population of 1,300 residents in the early 1900s. The boom years lasted until trains switched from steam to diesel. About 1945, Steins fell into disuse and began a slow dissolve back into the desert.
Larry and Linda Link plan to keep Steins authentic for tourists and serious researchers. Here Larry will guide you on a journey back in time, when Apaches still roamed the surrounding hills; when one small, low-ceilinged room sheltered parents and children alike; and when the railroad was king.