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The Williams, Arizona StoryAmerica's Small Town in the Wild, Wild Westby Jim Harvey, HistorianWhen Grand Canyon sightseers and Interstate 40 motorists visit Williams they're about as close to Arizona history as they can get. Williams, because of the variety of architecture, is like a time machine
transporting visitors from the days of The town was named for Bill Williams who was a trapper, pathfinder and guide in the 1820's, 30's and 40's, and whose contemporaries were other famous mountain men including Jim Bridger, Mariano Medina, James Beckworth, and Kit Carson. In June, 1882 the 250 residents of the brand new town where there was no electricity or indoor plumbing waited for construction of the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad west toward them from New Mexico through northern Arizona and on to California. The rails would connect Arizona's last frontier with national markets for beef and wool. The Atlantic and Pacific was the reason Williams existed, and all the Arizona towns along the tracks on today's Interstate 40. Williams already was surrounded by cattle and sheep ranches where people lived in wilderness isolation. They had to trail drive their cattle at roundup time to another railroad crossing the southern Arizona desert 170 miles away. Wool was hauled that distance in wagons traveling no faster than the speed of horses, mules and oxen. A railroad through Williams in Grand Canyon country north of the desert not only would make it much easier to transport cattle and wool to market, but would bring manufactured goods from eastern industrial centers at unheard of speed with lower transportation costs: Furniture, carpet, window glass and screens, kitchen utensils, dinnerware, fashionable clothes, processed food and, eventually, fresh fruits and vegetables from California. Railroad construction crews were 60 miles away and were expected to reach Williams before the end of summer, 1882. It was a place of log cabins, small frame buildings, tents which were where the saloons were, and a few dirt streets. Lumber for the frame buildings came from a small stream-powered sawmill southwest of town at Hell Canyon the other side of Bill Williams Mountain. Williams was surrounded by a great forest of gigantic ponderosa pine trees. Gaudy wildflowers grew in grassy meadows and savanna's. Wolves and coyotes howled at night. Grizzly bears roamed south of town. Outlaws prowled the countryside robbing stagecoach passengers and travelers on horseback and in wagons. Prostitutes and gamblers were following the railroad construction payroll and some would make their homes in Williams. In those days long gone by there were people in Williams with families who'd come to the outer reaches of American civilization in Arizona with a vision for the future that included a decent place to live and a chance to earn a living. The real story of America's small town in the wild, wild West is about them and not the desperados, harlots and card sharps. That June 117 years ago women wearing sunbonnets and ankle-length skirts weeded gardens, milked their cows, and washed clothes by hand outside. Work inside included churning butter, baking bread and biscuits in wood stoves, and pressing clothes with irons heated on the hot stove top. Kerosene lamps provided the only light and required almost daily cleaning, refilling and wick trimming. Mothers somehow found time to teach their children spelling and arithmetic because there wasn't a school yet. Men weather-proofed houses and business buildings in anticipation of the rainy season which began in July. They cut firewood and stacked cord after cord so they'd have enough to last the mountain winter. They had their horses shoed by the blacksmith. And they worried about the lack of law enforcement and wondered whether or not the Indian wars actually were over in their part of Arizona. Families entertained themselves with picnics in the forest and at home reading aloud, and with fiddle and banjo music. Cowboys, white and black, rode into town from nearby ranches to visit the tent saloons and sample the whiskey they called tarantula juice. People on their way to the mining districts in northwest Arizona stopped at the general store for food supplies. And everyone waited for the future to arrive when the Atlantic and Pacific laid its rails to Williams and beyond. About the Author: Historian/Author Jim Harvey lives and writes in Williams, Arizona. If you would like to ask him questions about Northern Arizona History, please e-mail him at this address: jimharvey@azreporter.com Article reprinted courtesy of the Arizona Reporter |
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