Mogollon

You can tell it’s spring. Flowers are blooming. Birds are singing. Days are getting longer. And the wind is blowing.

Armand Tremolo stepped out for a breath of air the other day. However, the air in the vicinity happened to be moving about seventy miles per hour.

Unbeknownst to Armand, at the very moment he was perusing the world famous Mogollon skyline, the fragrant spring breeze was removing the cap from his stovepipe.

The stovepipe cap missed Armand’s head by approximately two inches and landed, with a resounding crash, in a pile of scrap metal. Armand bolted, in a blind panic, in the direction of the most immediate assistance he could think of.

"The Libyans have invaded!" he shouted, as he burst through the door of the Bloated Goat, which, being the only public business establishment currently open in Mogollon, contained a good twenty percent of the resident population.

None of the three patrons were inclined to be impressed by Armand’s warning, although it was followed, right on cue, by the boom of an explosion. "See!" shrieked Armand, as he dove under a table.

"Just sounds like blasting at the mine," Joe Malloney replied. "Come on out, Armand. Let me buy you a shot. Calm you down."

Armand crept cautiously out from his hiding place. Just then, there came the report of gunfire from up the canyon. Armand headed immediately for the old mine which serves the Bloated Goat as a cellar.

Joe was now curious. The wind having died down to a mere forty-five miles per hour, he strolled up the road to see what was going on.

The hostilities turned out to be Stella Nevil running the cows out of her garden again. She was cussing a mile a minute while reloading her black powder elephant gun.

Joe shook his head sympathetically and wished Stella good luck. Then he ambled back down to the Bloated Goat. On his way, he noticed the cap was missing from Armand’s stovepipe.

"Hey Armand, wind got your stovepipe cap," he hollered at the cellar door.

"You’re sure it wasn’t the Libyans?" came a muffled reply.

"What would they want with your stovepipe cap?"

Armand did come out. However, he spent the rest of the day checking his stovepipe for terrorist bombs.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

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Mogollon

This past weekend, Armand Tremolo received a visit by his niece, Martina Solari, and her nine children, of Tucson.

Armand, at fifty-seven, has never married. There are no children currently living in Mogollon. Armand is not used to kids. Things generally went all right, however, till Martina realized she had forgotten to bring an extra box of pampers.

She took the baby with her. The oldest girl, Natalie, rode along too, to get in a talk with her mother. This left Armand with seven children ranging in age from just two to thirteen.

Everything might have been all right if Martina had not made a wrong turn at the highway and ended up driving to Reserve. As it was, she was gone most of the day.

Armand described the experience as being, "Like I was back in Korea. – You know, the war nobody mentions except on MASH. Felt like I was surrounded, outnumbered. And they all move so fast!

"First thing Martina was out of sight, Dennise (she’s six) says she’s hungry. I say, ‘How about a cheese sandwich?’ She’s pleased as can be. I think I’m doing fine. Next thing I know, they all want a cheese sandwich, and there isn’t enough cheese to go around. You could of heard the ruckus clear to Mexico.

"By the time I had half of them talked into peanut butter, little Daniel, the two year old, and Steve, who is four, had found the grease gun, a couple of pipe wrenches, a can of nuts and bolts, and a five gallon bucket of flour. I’m not sure if they were making a cake or a rocket ship, but whatever it was supposed to be, it was a big one.

"That’s when Billy (he’s ten) discovered the balloon. I felt like a prisoner that got reprieved from death – just in time for a riot. It at least caught everyone’s attention. Except Cynthia. But she was no problem anyhow, though she wasn’t any help either. She just found an old Reader’s Digest book of condensed novels and read. A very serious twelve year old that Cynthia.

"I blew up the balloon. Had, ‘I like Ike,’ printed on it. I batted it to Billy, and he batted it on to Joanne (she’s nine). I held my breath waiting to see if she’d squawk or play. She laughed and batted the balloon on to Steve. By then they were all hooked.

"All but Cynthia. She just wanted to know who Ike was, so I told her. Then she went back to her book."

Martina and the kids left Monday morning. Armand has been over at the Bloated Goat ever since.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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Mogollon

The Bloated Goat Saloon closed for the season Thursday before Memorial Day.

Some folks might think it contrary to shut down a public establishment just when tourist traffic is picking up. Some folks don’t know Jim and Melissa Farnsworth, the proprietors.

According to Jim and Melissa, the Bloated Goat just is not big enough to accommodate the number of people who would want to use it in summer. There is not enough space for parking either. This may be true, but everyone in Mogollon believes the real reason they shut down is politics.

Jim and Melissa are, once again, running against each other for mayor of Mogollon. With primaries over, they figure it is time to hit the campaign trail.

The campaign trail is fairly short actually – ever since the time, a few years back, when they drove into the Pacific – Pacific Mine that is, and had to hire a team of mules to haul them back out again. However, Silver Creek Canyon has rarely been graced with such oratory (or slander, depending on your point of view) as our worthy mayoral candidates on the stump.

Melissa is running as a Federalist. Jim is running as a Whig. They campaign together. Precisely what their program is for the future glory of Mogollon remains somewhat murky. Their opinion of one another, however, is brilliantly displayed for all the world to hear – or at least local residents of voting age.

The entire population of Mogollon has long since made it clear that any mayor who tries to raise a budget of over thirty-four cents from local taxes of any kind will be tarred and feathered and dropped down the Glory Hole. However, Jim and Melissa campaigning is a good enough show that quite a few people will feed them dinner when they come around. – And folks remember how generously they hand out rounds on the house in winter.

Elvira Sonderfeld even puts on an open house. People weren’t sure she would be up for it this year as she is now eighty-five. "When I was forty-five, I lied about my age. Now I’m proud of it," she says.

It is not altogether clear whether Elvira’s open house is really for Jim and Melissa’s benefit or just so the bears can show off their new cubs. She hasn’t set the date yet, but she has already started cooking. It should be a good one.

Jim and Melissa are well into their campaign. The invective and breaking crockery are frequently audible clear to South Fork.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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Mogollon

It is winter in Mogollon, and in winter it becomes readily apparent why Mogollon is a ghost town.

At last measurement, the snow on the shady side of the street was eighteen feet deep. This measurement was taken by having Joe Malloney, who is six feet tall, stand with a surveyor’s stick on his head. Unfortunately, Joe froze stiff, and while the local rescue crew was digging him out, the surveyor’s stick got lost in the snow. It is probably deeper by now, though no further measurements have been attempted.

You will be relieved to learn, however, that Joe froze so quickly he didn’t have time to suffocate. So he was carried down to the Bloated Goat where, with liberal ministrations by Drs. Jim Beam and José Cuervo, he is recovering rapidly.

The Bloated Goat Saloon opened for business as usual at 10:00 AM on the Monday after Thanksgiving. Whiskey is six dollars a shot. Tourists are recommended to bring their own firearms as rentals go fast, especially when the weather keeps everyone in. A round on the house will be provided to anyone who brings up some new bar stools or tables as there is a severe shortage of furniture since the big blizzard the week before Christmas.

On the sunny slope, in the meantime, daffodils and grape hyacinths are blooming again, and the first crop of salad greens is almost ready for harvest. Several attempts have been made to erect a greenhouse so tropical fruit could be grown, but falling boulders have always shattered the glass thus far.

The road is usually plowed after storms in time for the mail to come in. However, anyone wishing to visit Mogollon should be warned that it gets muddy on warm days. Four wheel drive is not advised as it only digs a hole faster, and the helicopter costs to pull out the extra weight are that much greater as well. In fact, one Jeep Cherokee disappeared altogether. The passengers only just managed to escape by smashing the windshield. They all have required a very expensive course of therapy (which can usually be provided in the back room of the Bloated Goat).

Anyone wishing to visit Mogollon should be advised that the best time to arrive is between dawn and sunrise. Since the road is only passable when frozen and impossible to negotiate after dark, anyone still in Mogollon after 8 AM should plan to be here at least twenty-four hours.

Accommodations are generally available without reservations if you don’t mind sharing your quarters with the bears. However, there is no food service in town this winter. So you should bring plenty in case the weather closes in. Four thousand calories per person per day is usually adequate even when it is very cold. But bring extra as the bears will probably want a share.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

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Mogollon

Twenty-six people attended the annual meeting of the Silver Creek Temperance Society. That is more than the resident population, let alone nondrinkers. And two of those present did appear to have been exhumed for the occasion.

Elvira Sonderfeld hosted the event, as usual. Her cooking undoubtedly drew the crowd. Everyone was on their best behavior too because liquor makes the bears ornery.

Perhaps some history is in order here: Elvira inherited the Mogollon Rooming House in the great flu epidemic of 1918. She was no relation to the previous owners. But when the epidemic struck, the Rooming House got turned into a hospital. Elvira, being an idealistic girl at the time, nursed the sick and dying.

By spring, Mogollon’s population was decimated. Only about seventy people died. However, that was enough to scare off several hundred more, including the previous owners of the Mogollon Rooming House. Elvira just stayed on.

Citizens who recovered from the flu remembered Elvira’s kindness and saw that her needs were met. When no one had asserted a claim to the Mogollon Rooming House by about 1930, someone got a deed drawn up in Elvira’s name.

By then, it actually was a rooming house again. Elvira’s cooking was already famous. When the population of Mogollon dropped off to nearly zero in the fifties though, there was no one to stay there with her – except the bears.

The Mogollon Rooming House is opposite the mouth of Dog Canyon, so named because people used to dump dead dogs there. Perhaps that is what attracted the bears.

When all the people left, Elvira got terribly lonely. Eventually, she just invited the bears in for company. So far as anyone can recall, they have been there since 1958.

The Silver Creek Temperance Society was well into dessert when someone noted that old Mortimer Walker was not present. It was soon ascertained that nobody had seen him in some time. So a delegation was formed to see that he was all right. There were twelve volunteers, including five bears. Mort lives on the shady side of the street, so he had to dig a tunnel through the snow to the mailbox sometime in November. However, we have been having something of a mild spell lately. Sure enough, with all the warm weather, the tunnel had collapsed. Everyone became quite concerned when they saw this and began to dig.

It was hard work for a bit, but before long the bears caught on to what was happening and pitched in. After that, everyone else just stood back. In no time flat, the bears were through that heavy, wet snow and in Mort’s door. There was one loud crash. And those five bears came hightailing it out of there and back up the street to Elvira’s faster than you would believe anything that big could move.

We heard old Mort holler, "Can’t a man hibernate in peace!" And the door slammed. So we knew he was all right. But no one could figure out what happened to the bears till somebody mentioned it the next day to one of the people who deliver the mail.

The response was a chuckle. "So that explains that last order. I wondered what he wanted with two pounds of cayenne."

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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The road to Mogollon

The road to Mogollon is justly notorious. It is not a bad road…not especially rough. And it has been worked on recently. It is not even all that steep. (At least some of it isn’t.) However, with the exception of one flat stretch over the top of Whitewater Mesa a third of the way up, all of it is a grade. And all of it is narrow and twisty, with solid rock straight up on one side for hundreds of feet and straight down an equal or greater distance on the other side. The Mogollon Road rises about twenty-five hundred feet and then drops back about twelve hundred – all in the space of nine miles. It makes for wonderful views.

The solid rock is why the road does not fall off the side of the mountain, though piles of it do occasionally fall onto the road. There are numerous signs to warn the uninitiated of the hazards of the Mogollon Road.

The road is only one of the many reasons why nobody lives in Mogollon by accident. There are lots of reasons not to live in Mogollon. It does not get much sun in winter. It is far from most places to make a living. It is far from stores and hospitals. Cabin fever traditionally sets in sometime around the second week of September, to lift only when the tourists show up again – well into the following summer.

A couple of years ago, when there were about twenty people working at the mine, someone commented that the gold and silver mine here in Mogollon was the biggest private employer in Catron County. That says something about a county larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island put together, where the largest private employer is located in a ghost town. There are buildings in Connecticut with more people in them than there are in Catron County.

People out here tend to be ornery and individualistic. However, a hundred years ago, the priorities of remoteness and gold led to far more serious dissension than they do now. Back then, the Apaches were looking for someplace to keep out of the way. What is now the Gila Wilderness was one of the last places available. The gold and silver at Mogollon were bringing in lots of people. Modern disagreements are mild by comparison.

Living someplace like Mogollon is a popular fantasy. Not many people actually try it, and most of those who do rapidly discover that they really do not want to live a place so demanding and remote. Many of the few who stay, however, turn out to be unique and often exceptionally sensitive individuals who, with patience and effort, create a constructive niche for themselves in a setting where every individual counts. These are the special people who bless isolated communities in far greater proportion than is possible places where everyone is just a cypher. They are the real rugged individuals America was once famous for.

Mogollon

In the fall of 1985, a new column appeared in The Silver City Enterprise, then New Mexico’s oldest continuously-published weekly newspaper, appearing regularly since 1882. The introductory material you have just read is taken from the columns of Oct. 10 and 17, 1985. The following summer, "The Mogollon News, from the heart of Catron County," began weekly broadcast on Public Radio Station KRWG in Las Cruces. The Silver City Enterprise shut down in Nov., 1987. But the "Mogollon News" continued, in Silver City’s El Reportero: New Mexico’s only bilingual newspaper, the Catron County Firestarter (Glenwood, N. M.), and the Big Water Times (Big Water, Utah). In the 90s, it became a regular feature in the award-winning British experimental Speculative Fiction magazine, BBR, and on SouthernNewMexico.com.

The "Mogollon News" enters with the Mogollon Road and exits with the Catron County Land Use Plan, both thoroughly real. History and geography are equally real. The stories and their characters are fiction. But the atmosphere is authentic. The time covered is 1985-95, a decade when Catron County ¾ New Mexico’s largest and least populous, in which Mogollon sets, became a national leader of the growing rural ferment over local say in land use issues. Perhaps these tales may contribute a bit of insight. Of course people, including the inhabitants of the "Mogollon News", mostly live their personal lives, with their many personal joys, sorrows, struggles and quirks, at any time. None of the people in these stories (except Uncle River) really have lived in Mogollon. But they could. If you would like to experience more of the view from one of America’s most spectacular and remote ghost towns, read on.

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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The Road to Mogollon

This winter, Joe Malloney decided to go into the ice business. He was well situated with the creek handy and some tanks on the shady side of the street. There was even an abandoned mine behind his house he could use for storage.

Ice looked like just the sort of business he could do pretty well in: Low capital investment. – Just a saw to cut it into hundred pound chunks. He welded up a set of ice tongs out of scrap.

Next summer he figured he’d put up a sign and sell his ice to the tourists going camping in the forest or fishing at Snow Lake.

It has been a mild winter, but that is still plenty cold enough up here in Mogollon to make ice. So Joe’s been going great guns since November (except when he got froze measuring the snow and had to lay off for a few days).

Elvira Sonderfeld doesn’t get out a lot any more, but with spring on the air, she went for a walk one afternoon and happened on Joe. Though it was warm and bright in the sun,

Joe’s tanks in the shade were already cooling off. He was pouring in the water for another batch. Elvira, who remembers the old days, struck up a conversation with him about the ice business.

"Folks didn’t have electric refrigerators back then. So this fellow used to drive into town with a wagon hollering, ‘Ice! Ice for sale.’"

Joe smiled nostalgically.

Elvira looked around. "What are you doing for sawdust?"

"Sawdust?"

"Yes. Ol’ ‘Ice’ packed his in sawdust. Helped it stay frozen. And kept the blocks from all sticking together."

Joe turned slightly green.

So, folks, next summer when Joe’s sign goes up, have a little sympathy if the blocks come in funny sizes. There’ll be a lot of crushed ice for sale too. It still won’t have taken much capital. But it is going to be some mighty labor-intensive ice for the price.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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The Road to Mogollon

The last twelve feet of snow melted off in Mogollon in hardly over a week. Seems like spring has just come on in a hurry.

The creek only came up about a foot though and didn’t carry off much. Several tires washed through town and one chainsaw. Joe Malloney retrieved the chainsaw, but he didn’t like the brand, so he tossed it back.

A number of the fruit trees bloomed too early again this year. It is always a shame when the warm weather fools them. However, it is quite interesting to watch the bees shortly after sunrise landing on the frozen blossoms. Sometimes the flowers shatter with a lovely little tinkle.

Mortimer Walker appeared briefly. First time anyone’s set eyes on him since early November. He apparently climbed up the Fannie Hill in the middle of the night to see the comet.

Whether he saw it or not no one could tell, but his flashlight must have gone out on him somewhere up there. He passed through town, cursing Halley, barbed wire, and cactus about halfway between dawn and sunrise. No telling when he’ll come outside again.

Those lucky enough to have a garden on the sunny side of the street are already into their second crop of salad greens and got tomatoes and melons well along in cold frames. The sun is high enough now that even the shady side of the street is getting a fair amount.

Stella and George Nevil live on the shady side, but they are avid gardeners. So they have been out with pry bars and come-a-longs harvesting the spring crop of rocks.

The freezing and thawing brings new rocks to the surface every year, but the Nevils say it is nowhere near as hard to get their garden in condition to plant as when they started back in sixty-eight.

“First three or four years,” Stella recalls, “we had to use a winch truck just to pull the rocks out enough to turn the soil. We haven’t had to use the winch on a rock but once in the past three years.”

George says the truck has been worth the investment though. “We’re the closest wrecker from Whitewater Mesa to Snow Lake. We lost money at first. – Had no idea how fast we’d go through brakes. But now we charge by the vertical foot.”

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s “Mogollon News.”

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The Road to Mogollon

Bulldog and Petunia are back after nearly a year away. They went up to see Petunia’s sister, Sue-Jean, at Hungry Horse, Montana, the first of last June, but about the time they got ready to come back, Petunia wasn’t feeling well.

Turned out Petunia’s ailment was morning sickness. Bulldog got offered a good job at a sawmill. What with one thing and another, it has taken them till now to make it home.

The baby was born Feb. 23 in Sue-Jean’s living room. They named him Samuel Hungry Horse. So let’s all give a big welcome to little Sammy, the first member of the new generation to make his home in Mogollon in several years.

Unfortunately, during his stay up north, Bulldog came down with a terrible case of religion. Petunia got it too, but not so bad.

Whether it was the Montana winter or being a father that did it to Bulldog is hard to say. Now he goes around all the time telling people what God has his permission to do.

Bulldog is still the best mechanic any town could ask for. He’s got his old job back at the mine, and we hear George Nevil has been talking to him about putting in a shop to go with the winch truck.

All of Mogollon is pleased to see Bulldog and Petunia home and proud as family to have little Sammy among us. We just hope Bulldog recovers soon from his awful affliction.

The winch truck got quite a workout last Sunday afternoon: Someone blocked the whole road trying to turn a travel trailer around where there wasn’t enough room. There were about thirty-five cars lined up when George got there.

He got that trailer out all right, but one of the tires caught on a rock and went flat. The owner wouldn’t pay George.

That evening someone noticed there was a travel trailer parked outside the Bloated Goat with a bunged up tire tied on the back. It wasn’t parked very well either and was blocking traffic.

By the time the owner came out, however, the travel trailer was out of the way. It was sitting neat as can be in a vacant lot on the far side of the creek.

Unfortunately, there is no crossing in that particular spot. So a good powerful winch truck was about the only way, short of a helicopter, to get it back on the road.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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Mogollon

As most people in the Mogollon area are aware, there is lots more silver and gold in the ground here. However, several high tech, and no doubt high priced, tests have concluded that most of it is either spread too thin or too deep to be worth the cost of getting it out.

At least that’s what the big companies thought. Local folks figured there had to be a way to get some of that ore close enough to the surface to make it profitable.

One of the men working at the mine, Sam Jaramillo, is a veteran of the war in Vietnam, where he learned how to do things with explosives most people never heard of. However, the blasting had to be cheap. The ore was only good enough to mine if it came easy. After some figuring, it was concluded the least expensive approach was to blow the whole mass of overlying rock and dirt off with just one massive charge.

The only trouble was where to put it. The path of least resistance would land the whole mess right on the road. Shooting it over the top of the hill into Whitewater Canyon was ruled out too. This option was considered. With the Catwalk closed for repairs and hardly anyone going down there, some people believed no one would ever know where all the rock came from.

Sam nixed that idea though. "It’s going to be a big pile. I want to do things right." That would have meant filing an Environmental Impact Statement and public hearings. By the time the proposal was approved, if it ever was, the mine would be broke and out of business. Sam would probably be dead of old age.

With Federal land out and no place safe on the mine’s property, the next move was to turn to the County for a place to deposit the rock.

The Catron County officers understand what it takes to make it out here and know people need to keep expenses down. As well, it just happened they had a use for all that fill, and anything the County can get for free helps keep taxes reasonable.

A date was set. Sam’s precision blasting worked like a charm. Mining is underway on the newly accessible body of ore. And the old hole at the dump down in Pleasanton is now filled in smooth as a plate.

Appreciation is extended to the Catron County Sheriff’s Department for stationing a deputy at the dump entrance to make sure no one got too close to the impact area. Since the deputy was on duty anyhow, this did not cost the taxpayers a cent.

Read more samples from the Mogollon News

Winter
The Silver Creek Temperance Society
Blasting
The Balloon
Ice
Halley’s Comet
The Libyan Invasion
A Case of Religion
Politics

Contact SouthernNewMexico.com if you are interesting in publishing Uncle River’s "Mogollon News."

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