A Big Sister's Tribute

In 2003 my late mother, Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015), wrote this sweet tribute to her younger brother, Earl Maxwell Bay (1927-2018):

"Uncle Bud"
Earl Maxwell Bay (1927-2018)

April 13, 2003
Dearest  Bud:

Your most generous tribute and expressions of love in your letter of March 23 touched me deeply.  What a  very special man you are!  I am highly  honored to be your sister.   Your entire life has been one of thoughtfulness and kindness to others.  Thank you for all you have done for me, and now for this appreciated but not truly deserved letter.  Frank was touched by it also, and said, “Be sure that letter is preserved.  Why don’t you include it in your personal journal which is a bound book each year, so it won’t be lost.”   It is a treasure!

I have long recognized that putting ideas and events in written form gives them an increased power and permanence lacking in spoken form.  Your example of writing such messages to each of your children and grandchildren has got me thinking that I ought to do the same thing in our family, to let each loved one know how precious they are to me and to Frank.

My memories of you from your birth are sweet and warm.  Bernice could not pronounce the word “brother,” so called you “Little Budda”, and in spite of Mama’s urgent efforts to insist that we call you Maxwell,  you became known as “Budda” and then as Bud.  You far outshone me in courage, even though you were more than five years younger.  We  were trying to handle a feisty cow who didn’t like our leading her new calf away from the corral to the window of our house to show it to Bernice who was quarantined with scarlet fever.  You were only about five years old, but I turned the rope over to you.

When Dad had to leave town to find cash-paying work, you were the one to milk the cows, and do other manly chores for Mother when you were in your early teens.  You were so willing and so dependable.  You moved to the big West High School  as a senior, I believe.  What a change from Piute High!  What an adjustment being the new kid, having to defend yourself from bigger bullies.  One night  you and other teens were milling around in front of our house late one night, and the neighbors complained about the noise.  You were the one who went to apologize to the neighbors.  

You got a job working for peanuts, washing windows at a downtown store, and ushering in a theater.  When I told you goodbye at the train station, you whispered to me, “Don’t worry about money.”   I exhausted my limited cash while coming home from my mission on a bus (in order to stop in Phoenix and meet Frank’s mother en route).  So when my  friend and I stopped in Flagstaff to see you while you were there in officer training in the Navy, I soaked you for my share of the hotel room.  You never complained, although  you were hardly rolling in dough.

You worked your way through the university and became an engineer, while you and  your beautiful Betty were young, struggling  parents.  You saved and worked and bought your home at 4629 South 1130 East.  You were always there for your brothers and sisters.   

When Elvon suffered an accident out in the boonies somewhere, you did not hesitate but drove directly there to bring him back to the hospital in your station wagon.  Years later,  he tried to start a business as a building contractor, and was stiffed by  a company for whom he had built a big store.  He did not have sufficient capital to manage such a delay, as he had planned to pay for materials for other projects from the payment of the completed project.  He was in serious financial difficulty, and he told me that you  had gone to him and offered to borrow money on your own home to bail him out.  He knew that even that was not enough, so refused your offer.   I think it was a source of pride to  him that he gave up his own new home, his business, and worked to pay off all his debts without cheating his creditors.  But he was touched, and so was I,  by your loving generosity, so typical of you. 

When Dad was critically ill in the VA Hospital, and we were called to his bedside in the middle of the night, we all gathered to be near him.  Charlotte came with her son James Hill, his wife, and their son who was ready to enter the mission field.  The nurses and doctors were worried because there were so many of us.  (Usually, they had patients  with no one who came to visit.  The medical staff decreed that to protect our father,  we could not enter his hospital room until he fell asleep. Then, quietly, two at a time, could slip into the room for a minute or two without disturbing him. Charlotte announced, “The  out-of-town people go first.” Elvon was irate. “I will see my father before any out-of- towners.” Charlotte backed down, and we all got to see him briefly. Finally, he passed the  critical stage, and one by one everyone went home to bed except you and Mary and me.  I sat by his bedside for an hour, and then you said you would stay the rest of the night.  So  you got in your car, followed me home and then followed Mary to see that she made it OK, and then returned to sit with Dad the rest of the night.

After his death, you reluctantly assumed the duty of executor of his estate.  The attorney who was helping us was concerned that there would be a family struggle, with all the Bay children and all of Charlotte’s children who had been sealed to Dad in their adulthood.  Because of your diplomatic approach, Charlotte’s children told you, “We don’t want your father’s money.  All we want is his good name.”  You, however, insisted that they receive what he had specified in his will.  Dad had specified that Charlotte could remain  in the home until her death.   However, she did not want to remain in the home, so  you added her name to the list of the seven of us, handled the sale of the home and split the money eight ways.  There was absolutely no squabbling in our own family over who got what piece of furniture or other assets.  It was because we all had perfect trust in you, and valued our relationship with one another far above any physical legacy. The lawyer was amazed at the lack of ill feelings in the disposition of the matter.

For years, you were always on hand to help Uncle France.  No natural son could have been more kind to him.  You again reluctantly assumed the heavy duty of managing his estate, paying his bills, dealing with the accountants and legal matters.  (I was going through a time of physical anxiety and pain and did not think I could handle it.  Instead, you and Betty helped me , gave me encouragement that my pain was not going to be permanent.   Betty taught me some helpful exercises, how to “crawl like a dog” to get up from the floor.  She did me more good than the doctors).   

Even after your near-fatal heart attack, you were doing things for Uncle France and for Florence, taking them to the doctor, picking up medicine, etc., at the risk of your  own health.  After her death, you often spent the night on  Uncle France’s couch to be there to help him get safely to the bathroom.  You supervised his treatment in the hospital and his move to St.  Joseph’s Villa, and we promised him that he would not have to die alone.   I was so grateful that the Lord enabled us to keep that promise.

Then came the very difficult task for you as administrator of his estate, following his wishes as to the generous disposition of his property and money.  What a headache!   It took a  year.   Again, your natural talents of honorable kindness, diplomacy, and tactful confidentiality, assisted by Betty through the whole process, enabled you to conclude the  settling of the estate.   I never could have done what you did, and did so well.

Since receiving your wonderful letter, I have reread your Personal Statement of Faith.   What a treasure that is!   Your powerful witness of the truth, your honest and effective descriptions of your values and your faith will have greater influence that you can now know in the lives of your descendants for many generations.  Those written words of testimony along with your personal written tributes to each of your children and grandchildren will live through the generations to strengthen your family.  It has far more value than any monetary or physical treasure you could ever bestow.  I value your words and so will my descendants.  You have set a high bar for all of us to achieve.

What you have done for me, has been repeated over and over for other members of the family—Mary, JaNel, Paul, and Phil—and their offspring.  You have blessed us all in  ways too numerous to recount.   We are all honored to have such a man as you—a true Saint, a true Christian gentleman—as our brother.   God bless you always—you and Betty and your beautiful family. 

Much love, 

Helen

Homes We Lived In, by Helen Bay Gibbons

Ruth, Suzanne and Mark Gibbons in the backyard
of the Yale Avenue House, about 1957

I found this little document, written by my late mother, Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015). It was in her computer files and is entitled: "Homes We Lived In." Using Google's "Streetview" application, I've added contemporary (2019) photos of these ten homes, as well as the eleventh (and final) home of my late parents, at Canyon Road Towers, 123 East Second Avenue in Salt Lake City.

"Homes We Lived In: The Francis M. Gibbons Family: Ten Moves in the First Ten Years"

by Helen Bay Gibbons

140 West North Temple, Salt Lake City

1.   Frank and Helen. Small rented apartment at 140 West North Temple, Salt Lake City, Utah, during World War II  - June to December 1945.   Now part of a  Church parking lot. 

666 East Second Avenue, Salt Lake City

2.   Frank and Helen. 666 Second Avenue, SLC, another small apartment:  kitchen, bathroom, and living room with a fold-down wall-bed we called “the Cave.”    Now part of an LDS chapel parking lot. January to April 1946. 

1334 East Fifth South, Salt Lake City
This property is immediately adjacent to Mt. Olivet Cemetery where
Frank and Helen Gibbons are buried. Their grave is about a hundred yards
Southeast of the gated entryway visible on the far left.

3.   Frank and Helen. Small house that we bought at 1334 East Fifth South, SLC. 

April 1946 to December 1947.  When Grandpa Earl Bay had a severe coronary heart attack and almost died, we sold the house to invest the money in Grandpa’s business, Bay-Way Venetian Blind Company to help him. The parking lot of Friendship Manor now located where our little house stood. 

23 West 400 North, Salt Lake City

4.    Frank and Helen. Rented basement apartment across the street from the Capitol Hill Ward at 23 West Third North (now 400 North) in Salt Lake City.  One room with kitchen. Bath across a public hall outside the apartment.  Pretty awful, January to September, 1948, but with good landlord, Brother Willard Jones who served in the Salt Lake Temple Presidency. 

160 Kellogg Avenue, Palo Alto, California.
This house is in a highly desirable neighborhood near Stanford University
and is now worth well above seven figures.

5.     Frank and Helen. Our own small home at 160 Kellogg Avenue, Palo Alto, California, September 1948 to September 1950, when we sold the home in preparation for the birth of our first child. The home we loved was later razed and replaced with a larger, fancier home. 

6.    Frank, Helen, and SUZANNE. SUZI’S first home was in Stanford Village, a former World War II Army Barracks remodeled into apartments for married Stanford students. Much less expensive living.  We lived there from September to Christmas 1950, when lack of funds forced Frank’s withdrawal in his last year of law school in  Stanford University and transfer into University of Utah Law School. 

1210 East First South, Salt Lake City

7.  Frank, Helen and SUZANNE. Rented basement apartment, 1210 East First South, Salt Lake City, a fine old Holy Cross Nurses’ Home remodeled into separate apartments, ours probably the laundry room in the past –- very damp.  We lived there from January 1951 until Frank graduated from law school in August, 1951.  Then, the Bishop of University Ward called him as a missionary, with the  student Seventies Quorum in the ward agreeing to support him in the mission field, as recommended in April Conference. We accepted the call, but I felt sad, knowing I would have to leave my baby and go back to work to support myself and Suzi. 

8.   Frank, Helen, Suzi and MARK. MARK’S FIRST HOME:  23 West 3rd North (400 No.) upstairs apartment.  Frank wanted Helen and Suzi to be safe while he filled his mission, and he trusted Brother and Sister Willard Jones, our former landlords.  Also, it was near Grandpa and Grandma Bay and Mary and Bob Ellis.  Then, in October General Conference, the Brethren rescinded the request for Seventies Quorums to support and send married men into the mission field.  Frank began studying for the Utah State Bar exam, so I went back to work for a couple of months so he could spend full time preparing.  Mary Ellis took care of Suzanne while I worked.  As soon as Frank took the bar exam in December, he went back to work and I quit my government job.  Besides, I was pregnant again.  Mark was born in June and came home to that upstairs apartment.  We lived there from August, 1951 until about January 1954. 

72a West 200 North, Salt Lake City--Ruth's first home
This house is directly across the street north from the Conference Center,
which is fitting, since Ruthie sang in the Tabernacle Choir for many years.

9.    Frank, Helen, Suzi, Mark and RUTH. RUTHIE’S FIRST HOME: 72a West First North (200 No.) We were the first tenants in a new apartment building which had more room for the four of us, and where we were more comfortable.  Frank by now was working with the law firm of Senior & Senior and we had a more comfortable income. 

1784 Yale Avenue, Salt Lake City

10.   Frank, Helen, Suzi, Mark, Ruth, and DANIEL. DAN’S   FIRST HOME:  1784 Yale Avenue, a dream come true!   Frank’s client kept asking us to took at the home, and even though we still had a very small income, when we first saw the house, we both KNEW it was OUR HOME. It was a true miracle, a perfect haven of peace and love and beauty, where we lived happily ever after until our children grew up and moved away. 

Canyon Road Towers at 123 East Second Avenue, Salt Lake City

Helen Bay Gibbons in South America, 1978

Helen Bay Gibbons, who served on the General Boards
of the Relief Society, Sunday School, Young Women, and
Melchizedek Priesthood MIA 

The following are two accounts, written by my late parents, Helen Bay Gibbons and Francis M. Gibbons, about my late mother's General Board assignment in South America in 1978:

Our First Visit to South America 

by Francis M. Gibbons

Several months after the revelation on priesthood was announced [in 1978], Helen received an assignment from the presidency of the Relief Society to visit sisters in several countries in South America. It was decided I would accompany her at our own expense. Sister Roy Hatch of Mexico, a member of the Young Women General Board, was assigned to accompany Helen, and her husband, Dr. Roy Hatch, had decided to accompany his wife. We teamed up with the Hatches at Rio de Janeiro. There we learned a quirky truth about Brazilian politics. Although Sao Paulo is by far the largest city in Brazil and its airport at Guarulhos is the busiest of all, all flights into Brazil must land at Rio, and the Sao Paulo passengers must then take a short flight into Sao Paulo. This oddity is the result of the international popularity of Rio as a vacation mecca for today’s jet set. In Sao Paulo, Helen and I were the guests of the newly appointed president of the Sao Paulo Temple and his wife who lived in an apartment in the Vertentes. Years before, Helen had worked with the temple president on one of the general boards. While Helen and Sister Hatch did their work with the local sisters, Dr. Hatch and I attended a session in the temple and also served as the witnesses of the temple sealing of a young couple from Uruguay. There was an interesting and unforeseen consequence of this sealing when we reached Montevideo later in the tour.

In Montevideo we stayed in the mission home, which was known far and wide as Tuttle’s palace. It had been built while Ted Tuttle resided there. Its popular name derived from the fact it was larger than most mission homes and had more amenities than the others. The mission president at the time was a man named Robinson who came from the Mormon colonies in Mexico. Thus he was well acquainted with the Hatches. We enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner with the Robinsons, sans turkey. However, they were able to rustle up some chickens.

We attended a sacrament meeting in Montevideo, where we were all called on to speak. Both of the Hatches spoke Spanish fluently, but both Helen and I needed translators. During my remarks, I noticed several sisters in the audience were weeping. I learned later the young bride whose sealing Dr. Hatch and I had witnessed in Sao Paulo was the daughter of the bishop in Montevideo. Neither of the parents had the resources to attend the services in Sao Paulo, so my mentioning it evoked the tears I mentioned.

Following the meetings in Montevideo, we were driven the length of Uruguay to the city Rivera, on its northern border. There was a light drizzle over part of our route, which brought out the ponchos on the cowboys we saw along the way. It was a delightful sight.

The streets of Rivera were crowded with ancient American cars. This was a condition we found in many South American countries. The city of Rivera is on the border separating Uruguay and Brazil. For most of the leaders here, Spanish was a second language for them, which was a blessing for us since they spoke Spanish haltingly, enabling us to understand easily.

When the sisters had finished their work in Uruguay, we flew to Buenos Aires, where Helen and I were accommodated in the mission home of Elder Robert Wells, the mission president. The Wells took us on a tour of places in the city that were especially interesting to Latter-day Saints. This included the place where Melvin J. Ballard dedicated South America for the preaching of the gospel. His dedicatory prayer included language that indicated the work there would begin slowly like the growth of an oak tree. This is exactly what happened. The Wells had a young daughter with them named Sharlene, who played the Paraguayan harp for us and who later became Miss America. Had we known this was the real Sharlene Wells, we would have given her more coverage in our diaries.

During our stay in Buenos Aires, the king of Spain was in Argentina on a diplomatic visit. Our visit to a notable restaurant coincided with the visit of the king and his party, so that we accidentally became part of the festivities honoring the king. Never again would we be that close to royalty.

Our flight over the Andes to Chile was memorable, as I was absolutely certain our plane wouldn’t make it. These mountains are HUGE. Eight years later when I was assigned to labor in South America as a member of the Seventy, we would learn much more about them. Here I renewed acquaintances with boyhood friend, Bruce Gibson, who was serving as a mission president. Later we traveled to southern Chile, where we visited with one of the daughters of Mary and Bob Ellis, who, it turned out, was the troubleshooter for the mission president. [This is Chris Ellis Quincy, who in 2019 is serving her third mission, and still "troubleshooting" wherever she goes!]

We parted company with the Hatches in Chile and found our way home separately. It was a joyous introduction for us to this fabled land and its wonderful people.

Source: From, "Francis M. Gibbons--Prepared to Serve" by Daniel Bay Gibbons, unpublished manuscript.

The Gift of Tongues

by Helen Bay Gibbons

In the latter part of 1978, The Relief Society General Presidency assigned me as an emergency substitute for another board member. I was to fulfill an assignment in South America even though my Spanish was extremely limited. Nearing the end of our tour of five countries, I participated in Regional Conferences with my companion, Jean Hatch, a member of the Primary General Board.

On Friday, December 1, 1978, we arrived in the city of Concepcion, Chile. On the following day we were to meet with members of three Stakes. Jean went to plan with the Primary leaders. I was ushered into a small classroom in the Stake Center where I would meet with a dear sister, Sofia de Arias, the host Stake Relief Society President. Hermana Arias spoke absolutely no English, and her Spanish issued forth in such a rapid-fire stream of words, I was unable to follow her. The American wife of a Church employee, Sandy Holland, who had served a mission in Chile, was there to serve as translator. There were five of us in the room: Sandy, Sister Arias, her secretary, one of her counselors, and I.

Sister Arias began explaining in her “machine-gun Spanish”, at first nervously, and finally with growing confidence, her plan for conducting the Relief Society session the following day. We were concentrating on communicating with each other, while Sandy repeated her Spanish into English, and my English into Spanish. We spoke to each other almost without thinking of language differences, intent on the content of our discussion.

As we were talking together, a special sweet feeling pervaded the small room. Then I noticed that Sandy and the other sisters were crying. It was then I realized Sister Arias and I were understanding each other in our own language before Sandy could interpret for us. “Lo entiendo," Sister Arias would say, (“I understand it.”)

An inexpressible spirit of love filled the room. When the planning session was over, all of us embraced each other as sisters who knew we had shared a miracle.

Source: Computer files of Helen Bay Gibbons (1921-2015) 

Marinus Christensen and "Climax Jim"

Rufus Nephews, known as "Climax Jim," was one of the most
notorious criminals of the Southwest in the 1890's and early 1900's. 

My great-grandfather, Marinus Christensen (1863-1927, was a truly fascinating man: Born, orphaned and adopted in Denmark, crossed the Atlantic as a small child; was orphaned again on the pioneer trail in America; raised as an Overson by his older sister (and perhaps birth mother) and her husband in St. Johns, Arizona; learned the blacksmith trade from his Welsh father-in-law; ran the town's only blacksmith shop for thirty years; became a pillar of the community, the leader of the town band and orchestra, frequent actor on the stage, the sergeant in the town militia and the Sunday School superintendent in the large latter-day saint ward; elected multiple times as St. Johns Justice of the Peace; and became universally beloved for his good humor and pleasant manner. I'll post a much more detailed biography of his life later, but for now I offer this fascinating detail:

On April 21, 1900 this item appeared in the St. Johns Herald: "Marinus Christensen arrived Saturday night from Solomonville bringing with him "Climax Jim," who is having his preliminary trial today, charged with breaking some of the territory's ten commandments."

Starting in about 1894 the St. Johns newspapers--and every other Arizona newspaper--were seemingly filled with stories about "Climax Jim," who was a notorious criminal, cattle rustler and jail escape artist. His real name was Rufus Nephews, but he picked up the nickname "Climax Jim" because his favorite chewing tobacco was the popular "Climax" brand. Over a period of a decade he was arrested and charged dozens of times in Arizona and New Mexico, but never convicted.

Late nineteenth and early twentieth century advertisements
for "Climax" brand plug tobacco. "Climax Jim" got his nickname
because he refused to use any other brand.

Climax Jim at Fort Apache

Climax Jim was first indicted for stealing cattle in Graham County, Arizona in 1894. When his case came up for trial, Climax's attorney produced witnesses who swore that the crime had actually been committed in neighboring Apache County. St. Johns was the county seat in Apache County. So Climax Jim was acquitted in Graham County, and charges refiled in St. Johns. When that case came up for trial, he produced other witnesses who claimed that the crime had been committed in Graham County, and he was acquitted again.

A few years later, his local reputation became Western legend, when he was charged with altering a check and then trying to cash it. At the trial, the check in question was placed on one of the counsel tables in the courtroom as Exhibit "A" for the prosecution. Then, before the exhibit was introduced, the prosecutor and defense attorneys got into a heated argument and were called to the bench to confer with the judge. During the discussion, Climax Jim, who of course had a chew of "Climax" tobacco bulging in his cheek, stood up calmly and ambled over to the counsel table, where he picked up the check and stuffed it into his mouth.

The judge finally calmed the two attorneys down and told them to proceed. When the prosecutor reached down to find his Exhibit "A," it was nowhere to be seen. A few feet away, behind the defendant's counsel table, Climax Jim sat calmly, chewing his tobacco with an air of utter innocence. The case was dismissed for lack of evidence. In a final gesture of bravado, as Jim departed the courtroom following his acquittal, he passed by the bench, and spit the remains of Exhibit "A" into judge's brass spittoon.

Climax Jim

Over the years, Climax Jim became a legend for his numerous successful jailbreaks. In 1894 he was arrested at age 17 for stealing a dozen steers in Winslow, Arizona. He was arrested and taken to jail. That night, Climax Jim used a hidden pocketknife to cut a hole in the adobe walls of the jail. Several months later, on July 4, 1894, he stole a horse in Gila County. The sheriff caught him in Pleasant Valley, and took in custody to Globe. Along the way they had to camp out in the wild, so the sheriff chained Climax Jim to a post. During the night, Jim succeeded in breaking a link in the chain with a rock, and fled on foot. Several months later, he was arrested for another crime, and placed behind bars. He was given a hot meal for dinner, but kept the spoon in his cell when the tray was taken away. That night he used the spoon to scrape away the mortar around the bricks in the wall and created a hole large enough to climb through. He then stole a horse and headed south toward Mammoth, where he was arrested for stealing another horse.

Climax Jim also was an expert lock picker and safe cracker. After being locked in a securely-locked cell one night in another jail, he boasted to the sheriff that he would break out that night. The Sheriff laughed at him, but the next morning when the Sheriff returned to the office, there was Jim sitting at the Sheriff's desk with a big smile on his face. Later, in Clifton, Arizona, a storekeeper ordered the latest safe from back east, advertised as burglar proof. Climax Jim was at the depot, waiting for a train, the day the safe arrived. He started playing with the dial, and within 30 minutes, to the astonishment of a crowd of onlookers, succeeded in opening the door.

Marinus Christensen

Now back to St. Johns, where my great grandfather, Marinus Christensen, was the town blacksmith and St. Johns Justice of the Peace. In June of 1898 Climax Jim was captured for cattle rustling at the Hash Knife Ranch. Burt Mossman, the ranch foreman (who later became the first captain of the Arizona Rangers) took Climax down the mountain to St. Johns. He was locked in the jail and an arraignment was set in Superior Court (where my grandfather later presided as judge).

During the night, Climax Jim sprang the lock and escaped into the darkness. He was at large for several months thereafter, but was a busy man. He became part of what was called the "Red Pipkin Gang," and participated in attempts to rob two trains in Arizona and one in New Mexico. He was finally arrested on New Years Eve, 1899 in Graham County. By New Years Day, 1900, he had escaped, but was recaptured along Eagle Creek in February, and returned to jail. On the morning of March 6, 1899, Graham County Sheriff Ben Clark fitted Climax with a new pair of heavy leg irons, which were riveted shut by the local blacksmith. Two days later, Climax Jim broke out of the shackles and ran for freedom.

At this point, enter Marinus Christensen, who traveled down to Graham County to transport the prisoner back up to St. Johns to face numerous charges, including the charges dating back to 1898. I suppose Marinus was sent for various reasons--he was a big man, the Sergeant of Company K, the St. Johns militia, and a blacksmith, so he could secure his own handcuffs and leg irons. In any event, Climax Jim was brought back to Apache County, and placed in heavily guarded custody. He was placed in a cell and shackled 24 hours a day with heavy leg irons, probably made by Marinus Christensen.

The sequel is as follows. On the night of July 7, 1899, Climax Jim escaped from his leg shackles in the Apache County jail, removed his clothes and waited for his jailer to enter the cell to check the shackles. When the jailer came into the cell, Climax Jim threw his clothes into the jailer's face, and after a vicious fight inside the cell, made his escape out through the open door on foot--without a stitch of clothing on. Jumping on a horse, he rode out of town like Lady Godiva, and escaped into the mountains.

For more information, see Karen Holliday and John D. Tanner, Jr., Climax Jim: the Tumultuous Tale of Arizona's Rustling Cowboy (Arizona Lithographers, 2005). See also, Marshall Trimble, "The Outrageous Climax Jim," True West Magazine, November 5, 2012.

Gila Valley, Globe & Northern Railway station in Solomonville, east of Safford.
Marinus Christensen traveled here in April 1900 to retrieve the prisoner, "Climax Jim."