the print edition. - Arizona Sonora News Service

LOCAL EDITION
NO TOMBSTONE IS COMPLETE WITHOUT ITS EPITAPH
VOL.
FrIDay, February 12, 2016
136 YEARS IN THE TOWN TOO TOUGH TO DIE
CXXXVI NO.VI
Gun ordinance raises legal concerns
By Hannah Palaniuk
The Tombstone Epitaph
A new Tombstone city ordinance lets
staged gunfights resume, but some question whether it violates established state gun
laws.
The gunfight performances Tombstone is
famous for had been on a hiatus since an accident in October of last year.
During Helldorado Days, one of the city’s
largest events, a live round struck an actor
from The Tombstone Vigilantes in the groin
and a bullet fragment hit a nearby audience
member. The actor forgot to check his gun
beforehand and load it with blanks, instead
of ammunition.
Now, the shows have started up again after the City Council passed a new ordinance
regulating the gun shows on Jan. 12.
The key points of the ordinance state that
performers must have an armorer load and
check all guns with blanks, a physical barrier
must be set up between the actors and the audience, and all performing groups must have
a $1 million insurance policy.
However, Mike Carrafa, longtime Tombstone resident and owner of Doc Holliday’s
Saloon, believes the ordinance violates state
laws.
“No municipality can regulate the discharge of a firearm,” Carrafa said.
Marc Victor, a Phoenix-based attorney
specializing in gun law, said he also believes
the new ordinance infringes on Arizona state
gun laws.
Arizona Revised Statute 13-3108 says that
a “political subdivision of the state … cannot
regulate the discharge or use of firearms or
ammunition,” unless relating to hunting or
law enforcement.
In May 2013, the Tucson City Council
passed two gun ordinances, which thenArizona Attorney General Tom Horne later
said were unenforceable. The first required
owners to report a missing gun or face a fine.
The second gave police the authority to get
a blood-and-alcohol test when a firearm was
negligently discharged.
Horne said Statute 13-3108 pre-empted
the regulation of firearms at the city level.
When the Arizona Legislature passed the
statute in 2000, it included a statement that
said, “Firearms regulation is of statewide
concern. Therefore, the legislature intends to
limit the ability of any political subdivision
in this state to regulate firearms and ammunition.”
There are currently no challenges to the
Tombstone ordinance. Although Victor said
if it was challenged, he doesn’t believe it
will hold up in state court.
Tombstone Mayor Dusty Escapule believes the new ordinance is legal and said
the city has the right to regulate gunfights.
He said Tombstone City Attorney Randy
Bays and an insurance company attorney approved the legality of the new ordinance.
Arizona Rangers back in the saddle
Bays did not return phone calls seeking
comment.
Escapule said the city’s reason for passing
the ordinance was to ensure the safety of everyone in Tombstone and has nothing to do
with politics.
“I hate to think that it could be one of my
kids, grandkids or someone else’s grandkids
who got shot on the streets of Tombstone,”
Escapule said.
As for concerns over whether the ordinance violates state law, Escapule said: “The
sidewalk lawyers just need to be quiet.”
Hannah Palaniuk is a reporter for the Arizona
Sonora News, a service from the School of
Journalism at the University of Arizona. Contact
her at [email protected].
San Pedro
power lines
affirmed
By Emily Huddleston
The Tombstone Epitaph
David Mariotte / The Tombstone Epitaph
Members of the Arizona Rangers Tombstone Company gather before starting foot-and-mounted patrols down historic Allen Street. From left: Duty Sgt. Dan Fischer, Lt. Mike Gross, Ranger Jim Politi, Ranger Geno
D’Ambrose and Maj. Kenn Barrett.
By David Mariotte
The Tombstone Epitaph
Rounding the wooden barricade outside the Bird Cage
Theater, the ranger stopped mid-strut at a call for assistance.
“We’re stuck,” said a man in his 40s, motioning across
the street to his gold SUV blocked in by cars, trucks and
motorcycles on all sides.
The ranger, Duty Sgt. Dan Fischer, and partner Jim Politi
quickly crossed the street to inspect the situation. Fischer
joked that the man should just drive straight over the motorcycle to get out and flashed a big smile under his grayed
mustache.
The rangers laughed, as Fischer stepped aside to radio
the Tombstone Marshal’s Office. A minute later, red and
blue lights flashing, Deputy Marshal Chris Robison pulled
up to the scene and ordered the owners of two trucks behind the SUV to move their vehicles.
Problem solved. Fischer and Politi resumed their fourblock foot patrol.
“And that’s how it works with the Marshal’s Office,”
Fischer said. “We’re their eyes and ears.”
Historical Hiccups
Fischer, 64, and Politi, 71, were on patrol as part of the
Tombstone Company of the Arizona Rangers.
The Arizona Rangers, a statewide group of volunteers,
provide law enforcement assistance and community support — and keep the traditions of the Old West alive. The
Tombstone Company, founded in August 2015, was the
19th to join the modern incarnation of the Arizona Rangers.
Originally, the Arizona Rangers were known as the Arizona Territorial Rangers and operated from 1860 to 1861.
Although the Rangers started as a group to defend against
Apache raids, according to the Arizona Rangers website,
they disbanded early on in response to the Civil War.
In April 1882, the original Tombstone Company formed
to fill a void in law enforcement following the departure of
the Earps after the shootout at the O.K. Corral, company
Maj. Kenn Barrett said. The group folded after only one
month, however, because of a lack of funding, he said.
Finally, in 1901, the Arizona Rangers received startup
funding from Congress and helped clean up the Arizona
Territory in preparation of the 1912 statehood. Ultimately
107 rangers would serve between 1901 and 1909 before
being disbanded again.
The idea of Arizona Rangers went dormant until 1957.
Surviving rangers from the turn of the century company
joined with new recruits to keep the spirit of the original
rangers alive. They are the modern incarnation. In 2002,
the Arizona Rangers were given official recognition by the
state, authorizing them to exist as a volunteer, nonprofit,
unpaid, law enforcement assistance organization.
Tombstone Traditions
Dressed in all-black cowboy hats, sunglasses, dress
shirts, ties and protective vests, Fischer and Politi patrolled
the tourist district of Tombstone. The two men sauntered
easily up Allen Street, despite wind trying to knock off
their hats, up to Sixth Street and back down to Third.
Outside the Chamber of Commerce, just around the corner from the Arizona Rangers’ office, another man came
up to Fischer.
“Can I get a picture with you?” he asked.
Fischer agreed, whisking off his sunglasses.
As the man wandered off, Fischer paused. “Anything we
can do to make their stay a little more enjoyable,” he said.
“Take a picture, something like that. It’s part of the ambiance of the town.”
The rangers’ style reflects the town’s ambiance. From
the cowboy hats to the horse-mounted unit; from the bushy
handlebar mustaches to the hint of a lawman’s swagger,
the rangers are determined to keep the Old West alive. According to Barrett, it is one of the rangers’ four duties to
preserve history.
RANGERS, Page 2
Cottonwoods shade a river where thousands of fish swim and millions of migrating birds stop. This green ribbon ebbs and
flows through an otherwise charcoal brown
valley.
Dirt roads lead to farms and homes, cows
graze and wind blows through desert trees
and shrubs. Usually this area is quiet and
peaceful, but recently this valley has been a
place of unrest regarding a proposed power
line that some say threatens the ecological purity of the land while others claim
is needed to promote long-term economic
development.
On Wednesday the Arizona Corporation
Commission approved a major permit for
the proposed SunZia power line. This is
one of the last permits the project needs
before construction begins in Arizona.The
$2 billion, 515-mile SunZia power line
will consist of two high voltage lines that
will run from central New Mexico down
through southern New Mexico and into
southern Arizona, with the intention to sell
wind and other renewable energy produced
in New Mexico to Arizona and California.
About 200 miles of the line will run
through Arizona, but the focal point for the
debate surrounding SunZia lies within the
35 miles of line that will first cross the San
Pedro River and then run along side the
river and up the San Pedro River Valley.
Wednesday’s 3-2 vote comes as another
defeat for the community that advocates
for the San Pedro River Valley.
Opponents can request a rehearing with
Arizona Corporation Commission. If the
permit is still approved, the case can be
brought to Arizona Superior Court. No decision has been made yet to challenge the
commission’s decision.
“Some people say the San Pedro River
Valley is out in the middle of nowhere and
that there is nothing out here,” said Anna
Lands, a resident in the valley. “But this
place is the center of my universe.”
The San Pedro River Valley is listed as
one of the “Last Great Places in the Northern Hemisphere” by the Nature Conservancy, and was named the United States’ first
“Important Bird Area” by the American
Bird Conservancy.
SAN PEDRO, Page 2
Wineries lobby for looser rules as business booms
By Ethan McSweeney
The Tombstone Epitaph
Todd and Kelly Bostock are busy at work
among empty boxes and wood barrels of wine.
The two owners of Dos Cabezas WineWorks
are bottling caseloads of wine in a small warehouse off Highway 82, where last year they
produced more than 16,000 gallons of their
products. A short drive away, dotted across the
rolling landscape of Sonoita and Elgin, a dozen
other wineries are at work with tasting rooms
open to tourists visiting the areas.
Dos Cabezas and the other wineries here
are part of a burgeoning wine industry taking
shape across Arizona — an industry that has
been increasingly flexing its muscle as it lobbies to reduce regulations placed on its business. The latest effort involves legislation that
would remove a requirement that larger wineries use a distributor to sell to their customers.
Led by Sen. Nancy Barto, R-Phoenix, more
than 30 state lawmakers are sponsoring Sen-
ate Bill 1381, which would allow wineries that
produce more than 20,000 gallons of wine annually to ship directly to customers. Currently
wineries of that size need to go through a distributor in order to ship to customers.
“This is about letting people get access to
wine that they want to buy,” said Eric Glomski,
winemaker at Arizona Stronghold Vineyards
and Page Springs Cellars. He works on legislative issues for the Arizona Wine Growers Association.
Wine distributors in the state have come out
in opposition to the bill, Glomski said. Representatives from the Arizona Wine and Spirits
Wholesalers Association and Beer and Wine
Distributors of Arizona did not return requests
for comment.
The bill, which comes from the Californiabased Free the Grapes, would also require that
wineries, both in-state and out-of-state, obtain
a direct shipment license if they wish to ship
to customers in Arizona. Customers order-
ing from larger wineries around Arizona and
around the country would be limited to 18
cases of wine a year per winery.
This is the latest bill the wine industry has
pushed at the state Legislature. In recent years,
lawmakers also have rolled back regulations
around shipments to customers, wine festivals
and other aspects of the wine business.
“Over the years, our efforts have been to
open up the markets incrementally,” Glomski
said. “When our industry was small, we didn’t
have the resources or the time or the understanding of the industry to duke it out and try
to change these laws overnight. Every year, as
our industry has grown — and this bill is an
example — we take more chunks out of these
[regulations].”
Glomski would like to see all the caps on
production eventually removed, he said.
WINERIES, Page 2
ViSIT THIS: Bisbee’s big,
gaping hole
Ethan McSweeney / The Tombstone Epitaph
Dos Cabezas WineWorks produces about 16,000 gallons of wine a year.
REAL LIFE: The Homeless Faces
of Cochise County
Page 4
Page 3
Page 2
February 12, 2016
Early college classes missing from rural high schools
By Shannon Higgins
The Tombstone Epitaph
Many rural Arizona schools lack the proper funds to start or expand their AP programs,
including Tombstone High School, which
lacks any such classes, and educators say this
can be a serious detriment to students preparing for college.
“We used to want the kids to go to college
and be successful,” said Andrea Overman,
Douglas High School principal. “Now we
have to think more globally… That’s where
the value of the AP classes could be, that they
really level the playing field for our kids in a
small community.”
More funding could help these smaller
schools grow and maintain their Advanced
Placement programs. In Gov. Doug Ducey’s
State of the State address, he proposed $6
million for incentives of college prep programs such as AP classes to help students
prepare and succeed in college.
ART
HOLE
tion established the Fulton-Hayden Memorial
Art Gallery, which features rotating contemporary exhibits, to provide more context for
museum-goers.
Since its establishment, Kaldahl says the
contemporary exhibits have evoked the greatest reaction from visitors who don’t necessarily interact with native peoples and have limited knowledge of their current lifestyles. As
the curator, Kaldahl says he tries to include a
diverse range of indigenous artists, styles and
subjects to better expose visitors to multiple
native perspectives.
Glory Tacheenie-Campoy, a Tucson-based
contemporary indigenous artist, strongly believes that museums should house diverse
styles and not just those that are traditional.
Her artwork, which has been shown at the
Amerind Foundation, is abstract.
Although artists like Tacheenie-Campoy
and Wilson choose to incorporate Native
American themes into their work, TacheenieCampoy says the art market often demands
that indigenous artists make art in known
indigenous styles or that pertains to Native
American culture.
Tacheenie-Campoy says not all of her work
has Native American aspects, but when it
does, it’s often subtle. She can start with a
geometric pattern found in a traditional woven rug and abstract it so that her work features indigenous culture, without reproducing
stereotypical images of women and rugs.
This diverse style subtly can work against
her in the competitive art world. TacheenieCampoy says that because there is always a
demand for authentic indigenous art, she believes indigenous artists who fit that category
are better able to sell.
Places such as Santa Fe, New Mexico,
where Wilson is based, are renown for their
authentic indigenous art. Tacheenie-Campoy
explains that there’s a separate market for ignorant consumers, usually tourists, who have
little understanding of the art’s tradition or
context but nonetheless want it. Mass-produced, inauthentic and cheap renderings of
traditional art fill this niche and exploit the
culture it comes from, she says.
Many museums, including the Amerind
Foundation, now have stores that sell authentic indigenous arts and crafts and books on
the history and present of Native American
cultures to meet the market’s demand on their
own terms.
Wilson, too, emphasizes the importance of
agency in his photo exchange. Wilson says the
subject’s active involvement in the portrait is
key to creating a photographic dialogue centered on the recreation of American Indians’
contemporary presence.
He intends the dialogue to disrupt the assumed power of the photograph to be objective, and capture rather than construct. This
acknowledged subjectivity displaces Curtis’
implied objectivity.
The studio portrait is a powerful tool Wilson uses to create a link between the photograph’s ritualistic quality and the historical
representation of American Indians. Wilson
describes the portrait process as an intimate
experience, with each image containing its
own narrative. Ultimately, Wilson hopes his
body of photos will “add a layer to how people think about Indians.”
Wilson will be joining two other featured
artists at the Amerind Foundation on March 5
for a gallery talk.
in the state.
Of the $10.3 billion in product that came
out of the mine during this time was 7.7 billion pounds of copper, along with other metals – lead, zinc, gold, and silver.
What use is Bisbee’s pit today?
Could they tear down the fence surrounding the hole, cover it in floor-to-wall carpeting and fill it with more books than would fit
in all of the University of Arizona libraries
combined? What about converting what’s
left into a go-cart track?
Freeport-McMoRan, one of the biggest
mining companies in Arizona, has owned
the pit since 2007, when it bought Phelps
Dodge, the company that dug the hole. “You
always hear rumors about what the mining
company is up to,” said Jennifer Luria, supervisor at the visitor center in Bisbee. “I
always thought it would be cool as a water
attraction, something you could walk your
dog along next to.”
Luria, who has lived in Bisbee for the last
nine years, doesn’t revel in the hole’s weirdness, but doesn’t mind it much, either.
“When you drive past it everyday, it becomes part of the normal scenery,” she
said.
continued from Page 4
Cali Nash is a reporter for Arizona Sonora
News, a service from the School of Journalism at the University of Arizona. Reach her at
[email protected]
Rural schools in Southeastern Arizona
average about nine AP classes per school,
whereas larger schools in Phoenix and Tucson average 20 per school. Chandler Hamilton, the largest high school in Arizona, has
24 AP class offerings.
Tombstone High School does not offer AP
classes. “
“We’d like to offer AP classes, but our student body is so small and our teachers are
spread so thin, it’d be hard to cover AP with
regular classes,” said David Thursby, Tombstone principal. “If money wasn’t an issue,
AP classes would definitely be an option.”
For Douglas High School, a lack of money
keeps it from introducing new classes, according to Overman. Although the school
has five AP classes with a new one being introduced next year, the financial costs of the
program have slowed the school’s progress.
Douglas High School has been able to
add more AP classes funded by a competitive federal grant through NAU called the
Shannon Higgins is a reporter for Arizona
Sonora News, a service from the school of Journalism with the University of Arizona. Contact
her at [email protected]
continued from Page 4
Devon Confrey is a reporter for Arizona Sonora News, a service from the school of Journalism with the University of Arizona. Contact
him at [email protected]
Photo by Devon Confrey/ The Tombstone Epitaph
Stagnant water and runoff collects at the bottom of the old copper mine outside of Bisbee.
RANGERS
continued from Page 1
Modern Members
Tombstone Company has 23 rangers, including Fischer,
Politi, Barrett and Lilla DeLuca, the commander. According
to Fischer, members are often out three or four times a week,
with heavier shifts during special events.
The Tombstone Marshal’s Office contacts the rangers
when it needs assistance. The rangers themselves do not
have any specialized law enforcement or investigative pow-
WINERIES
continued from Page 1
This bill comes a year after Arizona microbreweries rallied behind legislation signed into law that raised caps on
their beer production.
Only two wineries in the state produce more than the current 20,000-gallon limit, said Rod Keeling, president of the
Arizona Wine Growers Association. Several other wineries
are close to hitting that 20,000-gallon limit, he added.
The bill also would give a boost to Arizona wine clubs
seeking to buy wines from larger out-of-state wineries in
places such as California, said Keeling. He is also a winemaker at Keeling-Schaefer Vineyards in Pearce.
“We want the wine culture in Arizona to be expanded and
we think this helps that,” he said.
When Keeling first started his vineyard a little more than
a decade ago, it was the ninth licensed winery in the state.
Now more than 90 wineries are operating in the state.
“We’re still pretty darn small, but we’re starting to get
some really good attention,” Keeling said.
So small that the U.S. Department of Agriculture doesn’t
keep data on wine grape production for the state, said Dave
DeWalt, the federal agency’s state statistician for Arizona.
DeWalt said wine grapes in the state are a “relatively small
commodity” and represent a small fraction of Arizona’s agriculture industry.
Wine production has risen by more than 53 percent in the
state since 2013, according to figures provided by the Arizona Department of Liquor Licenses and Control.
While wine is not among the top 10 agricultural products
in the state, it does represent a “growing and significant” area
of production, said Julie Murphree, communications director
for the Arizona Farm Bureau, an advocacy group for farmers
ers, laid out in the 2002 law.
However, many of the rangers have significant training,
with Barrett a previous town marshal and Fischer part of the
Marshal Assist Team, which disbanded before the rangers
officially settled.
Rangers are asked to attend two monthly meetings. The
first acts as a business meeting on the first Sunday of the
month. The other, held on the third Sunday, is a training
day. Since rangers carry guns, batons, handcuffs and pepper spray, they must be trained and certified by the Arizona
Peace Officer Standards and Training Board.
Although their powers may be limited, the Arizona Rangand ranchers.
“It’s one of the strongest potential new growth areas for
Arizona agriculture,” Murphree said.
She added that the top two searches on the Farm Bureau’s
Fill Your Plate service, which allows users to search a database of products from Arizona farmers and ranchers, are
beef and wine.
Keeling said, unlike other states that have increased their
wine production, Arizona wineries have a “quality mentality.”
The Sonoita-Elgin area, about an hour’s drive southeast
from Tucson, is one of the three main wine-producing regions in the state, along with Willcox and the Verde Valley
in Northern Arizona.
According to a 2013 study, commissioned by the Arizona
Wine Growers Association, wine production in the state is
valued at $2.2 million, with about 93 percent of the business
occurring in southeastern Arizona.
“More people are looking to purchase land and start wineries out here,” said Lori Reynolds, winemaker at Sonoita
Vineyards. “I see really great things coming (for Arizona
wine).”
Sonoita Vineyards is the oldest continually operating winery in Arizona, opening in 1983. The winery got its start
when Reynolds’ grandfather, Gordon Dutt, a former soil
scientist with the University of Arizona, researched winegrowing near Elgin.
The soil composition in the area, he discovered, is a “99
percent” match to what is found in the wine-producing region of Burgundy in France. Following the experiment, Dutt
acquired land south of Elgin and planted a vineyard there.
Over the years, Reynolds has seen wineries spring up
along the rural roads extending out from Sonoita Vineyard’s
60-acre farm. Reynolds said it’s “exciting” watching new
startups bring more attention to the region’s wine-growing
prowess.
SAN PEDRO
Founded on the Southwestern frontier by John P. Clum, May 1, 1880
Editorial Policy
Gaining Early Awareness for Undergraduate
Programs (GEARUP) program. This grant is
currently in year four out of the seven and
has provided roughly $544,000 so far.
Like Douglas, Buena High School is also
receiving grant money to help expand the
school’s AP program. This competitive grant
is funded by Northup Grumman and will
provide the school about $706,000 until the
2017-2018 academic year. Melinda Escarcega, Buena assistant principal, said the school
expanded its math and science AP class offerings because of the grant.
Having enough money to start an AP program is also only half the battle of making
it effective. Bisbee High School’s first year
of AP classes was possible because of their
dedicated teachers.
The Epitaph encourages letters to the editor, but reserves the right to edit for style
and space. Please limit letters to 300 words.
The local edition of The Tombstone
Epitaph is published by the students of the
University of Arizona School of Journalism under the direction of Professor Terry
L. Wimmer, Ph.D.
Use of the name is by permission of the
owners of the Tombstone Epitaph Corp.,
publishers of the National Tombstone Epitaph. The corporation granted permission
for the use of the name of the local edition
of The Tombstone Epitaph on February 2,
1975.
Contact Us
School of Journalism
University of Arizona
P.O. Box 210158B
Tucson, Arizona 85721-0158
E-mail: [email protected]
Phone: (520) 626-6575
Editors
Ethan McSweeney
Dominic Baciocco
Nick Peppe
continued from Page 1
that lives within this valley has a great
appreciation for the land and has fought
hard to protect it. They think these lines
will irreparably harm some of Arizona’s
most natural and cultural resources, disrupting and damaging a crucial ecosystem.
“It’s the wildlife, the bird life, the quiet and the dark,” said Norman Meader,
a homeowner in the San Pedro River
Valley and the co-chair of the Cascabel
Working Group. “For those of us who
live there, the environment is just so
wonderful, we would hate to see it all
broke up.”
The Cascabel Working Group is a
volunteer organization that networks
and shares information about the San
Pedro River Valley with environmental
ers do what they can. Rangers frequently may be found directing tourists to restrooms, checking in on business owners
or conferring with the nearest marshal.
More information on the Tombstone Company and the
Arizona Rangers can be found at the Tombstone Chamber
of Commerce, 109 S. Fourth St., where the rangers are stationed. An Arizona Rangers museum, one of two in the state,
is located there.
David Mariotte is a reporter for Arizona Sonora News, a
service from the School of Journalism with the University of
Arizona. Contact him at [email protected].
“Because now we’re not a surprise,” Reynolds said, “and
people don’t say, ‘What? There’s wine in Arizona?’”
Ethan McSweeney is a reporter for Arizona Sonora News,
a service from the school of Journalism with the University
of Arizona. Contact him at [email protected].
and other organizations both local and
national.
The San Pedro River Valley is also
one of the least fragmented areas in Arizona. In the last 40 years, more than $40
million has been spent by government
and non-profits to protect the area and
to mitigate other impacts from projects
around Arizona.
This is “the very watershed that is depended upon for mitigating the impacts
of growth in the other major desert watersheds of Arizona,” said Peter Else, a
homeowner in the San Pedro River Valley.
Opponents are also concerned about
additional roads being built throughout
the otherwise untouched valley.
Many opponents see the potential
for bird collisions and electrocutions
with the towers and lines. The Bureau
of Land Management is requiring bird
diverters, which are 6-inch pieces of
reflective metal or plastic to catch the
birds’ attention.
Opponents also foresee this project attracting other infrastructure projects in
the valley.
“Our overriding concern is not only
that this project proposes to go through
Arizona’s richest biological treasure and
an area of outstanding natural beauty,
but that by awarding a Certificate of
Environmental Compatibility, you will
be opening the gates for cumulative impacts by a host of other large-scale linear
utility projects,” David Omick, a member of the Cascabel Conservation Association, told the Arizona Corporation
Commission.
Emily Huddleston is a reporter for
Arizona Sonora News, a service from
the school of Journalism with the University of Arizona. Contact her at [email protected]
February 12, 2016
Page 3
The displaced faces of Cochise
There are over 578,000 homeless in the United States, 10,000 living in Arizona. These homeless
individuals from Cochise County are challenging people to look into the eyes of those who may be
different than they are, to discover that in many ways, they are also the same.
Photos and story by Kristine Bruun-Andersen
Emmanuel Jenkins
Young, educated, and homeless, Jenkins,
26, has something to share also. “People
just want to see something beautiful in
their life, I’m going to give that to them,”
Jenkins said.
Jenkins danced with the energy of
5-year-old, on the sidewalk of a busy Sierra Vista street. With a smile on his face,
his hope was manifested on a large whiteboard with calligraphy drawn on it in rainbow letters.
“God bless you for helping me; peace
and love; travel safely; Jesus loves you,”
reads his sign.
“I hold up a sign that says Jesus loves
you because that’s what I’d want people
to do for me,” Jenkins said. “Even when
people cuss at me and tell me my sign is a
lie, I still love them.”
Jenkins said he is a high school and
college graduate from the University of
Arizona South at Douglas, but he is now
registered as a felon, making getting a job
almost impossible.
“I was a crack baby, I obviously didn’t
have a good upbringing, so I did some
stuff when I was younger, I tried to make
fast money, I made mistakes,” Jenkins
said. “Now I am doing all the right things
but it’s hard being on the streets, people
don’t want to know who you are.”
Jenkins also suffers from systematic depression, which he said is mostly due to
not being allowed to see the daughter he
has never met.
“It’s like I can read lips now, people
think I’m asking for money for drugs or
something,” Jenkins said while watching
drivers on the road turn their heads away
from him.
He describes himself as a comedian, a
dancer and an artist, open to sharing who
he is now and where plans to go in life.
“I don’t care how long I have to hold up
this sign, Jesus will show me the path to
something or someone great soon,” Jenkins said.
Kristine Bruun-Andersen is a reporter for the
Arizona Sonora News, a service from the School of
Journalism at the University of Arizona. Contact
her at [email protected].
Steve Burks
It’s a Saturday, 3:30 in the afternoon, and Burks
hasn’t spoken to a single person all day; in fact,
these are the first words he’s said aloud in two
whole days:
“I am lonely, I am lonely always,” Burks said.
Burks, 32, who has been homeless for the last
seven months, spends the majority of each day sitting in his definition of a bedroom. It’s the backseat
of the white van he calls home. His windows read,
in faint white writing, “Homeless, Needs Help.”
He parks his van during day time hours in Sierra Vista’s Martin Luther King Veterans memorial
park, and behind a Walmart at night.
“You have no idea how many times police have
accused me of stealing this van,” he said.
Burks was living with his parents in an RV and
working as a dishwasher at a local school. When
his mom and dad decided to buy a house and leave
Burks out of their plans, and his 9 to 5 job suddenly
stopped calling, Burks began living a lifestyle he
described as “hopeless.”
“It’s so hard to get a job when you don’t even
have an address to put down, or a place to get
cleaned up for interviews, or clothes to wear,”
Burks said. “I’ve spent too long looking for a job
without results. It’s hard to not lose hope.”
So instead, Burks plays on his computer for most
of the day, which, he said, is the last possession and
hobby he is proud to have.
A man of a strong build, he sits shirtless in his
car with his legs crossed, his dirt- covered hands
folded, with a sheet over his long messy hair; but
still he smiles warmly.
“If the public could just change their mindset
even just for a few minutes,” Burks said. “I know
I could show them who I am and what I know, but
instead all I get are dirty looks.”
Elton Elton
Elton, 61, was recently shown a long, life changing path, from Louisiana to Arizona.
“I used to be a cowboy, now I live in my car,”
Elton said. He uses the same first and last name because he doesn’t remember any other.
After three homes, three wives, and three children, Elton thinks being homeless is much like being in a marriage.
“You can’t help who you love, even if they’re not
right for you and you can’t help the cards you’ve
been given, even if they’re not the best hand,” Elton
said.
The former cowboy and welder recently had a
stroke and could not afford to pay for inhalers for
asthma caused by high humidity in the south.
“I packed up my car, used all the money I had
on gas, and moved to the driest place I could find:
Arizona,” Elton said.
He is now sleeping in the back seat of his small
four door vehicle in a city park, until he can pay off
his car and use that money for a home.
Elton is homeless, but he is just like any other
homeowner, with bills, a shower routine, and
neighbors.
“You never know who you’ll meet around the
park. It’s unpredictable and I’m not just talking
about other homeless people,” Elton said.
He has experienced what he categorized as cruelty, discrimination, and judgment from park visitors, simply by using a parking spot during day time
hours in a public park.
“Everyone is against the homeless, they always
have been and always will be,” Elton said. “People
will talk badly and people will listen, but they never
want to find out the truth for themselves.”
“We’re like anyone else,” he said. “We are struggling but somehow we are making it.”
Rick Dempsi
Dempsi, 53, is waiting, patiently, in front of a
Safeway market with a cardboard sign, and 30-yearold dream.
“I’ve been on the streets since the 1980s, I was a
drum technician for the Mötley Crüe; I didn’t have
a home when we got off the road, and never wanted
to get one,” Dempsi said.
Dempsi explained how those who are homeless,
even if it’s by choice, are viewed stereotypically
rather than individually.
“If anyone took the time to talk to me, they’d
know I’m actually a really happy-go-lucky guy,”
Dempsi said.
After he was given a donation with a backpack
full of clothes, shoes and woman’s hygiene products, the weathered, but wise rock n’ roll groupie
began handing items out to other homeless in the
area.
“I tend to keep to myself, I sleep in my own tent
and avoid shelters because things suddenly go missing,” Dempsi said. “But if I’m given something I’m
always thinking about if I know some people who
could use it. All I need is enough for a pack of cigarettes and some food.”
Dempsi is waiting for next month, where a band
will fly him out for an audition to work on their tour
bus. For now, he said he will walk, take the bus, or
hitch hike, through Southern Arizona.
“Believe it or not, but by being homeless for the
last 30 years, I’ve seen more amazing things in my
life than most people ever will, I wish I could share
that with people,” Dempsi said.
Kaylena Fox
Fox, 45, has been living this reality since 2005.
She wiped salty tears from her dusty face while describing what it feels like to be a woman, a veteran,
a schizophrenic and homeless.
“I’m just not able to keep jobs for very long and
most of the jobs I’ve had are paid under the table, so
I can’t even collect unemployment,” Fox said.
Fox explained her struggles with employment
due to her diagnosed schizophrenia and mood disorder. She said she becomes scared of the voices she
hears inside of her head. which makes work for her
near impossible.
“I was living on disability for five years, but neither social security, or veteran’s disability will give
me grants,” Fox said.
Fox divorced her husband, who, she said, “took
their home and moved another woman in.” She has
since been living on the streets.
Fox said that there is a quality homeless shelter
in the area, Good Neighbor Alliance, but that there
is not enough beds to accommodate Sierra Vista’s
homeless population and that it has been full since
Thanksgiving.
So for now, Fox spends her days sitting on a
sidewalk near a local Target, with her friend, David
Riche, who is also homeless, and her dog, Sasha.
Fox’s last job, where she worked dispatch for a
company, only lasted three days.
“I got bed bugs from a mattress someone gave
me to sleep on, so I had to leave work early to get
treated for it, I was so itchy.” she said. “The next
day they called me and said they didn’t need my
employment anymore.”
Fox, as a disabled homeless veteran, “is overwhelmed with frustration,” she said when it comes
to finding jobs and government financial support.
Page 4
February 12, 2016
Come one, come all, visit Bisbee’s gaping hole
By Devon Confrey
The Tombstone Epitaph
Photo courtesy of Google Earth
This Google Earth view shows the size of the gaping pit outside the town of Bisbee.
Left with a hole, what’s a town to do?
Bisbee – with its tunnel, red rock, hippies, stairs, the Copper Queen Hotel, motorcycle geeks singing Fleetwood Mac,
slag, the coffee roaster with dreadlocks –
is here because of a mile-wide hole on the
town’s edge.
The city built quickly around a hill that
mining tore open. Now residents live looking away from Bisbee’s ugly side, preserving what’s pretty, decorating a wasteland.
Bisbee’s big hole, made up of three
open-pit mines — Sacramento, Lavender
and Holbrook — that began a century ago,
is an eyesore but one of the town’s greatest attractions. Closed since the 1970s,
and surrounded with a rust-colored fence
topped with multiple layers of barbed wire,
the big hole is 4,000 feet from east to west,
5,000 feet from north to south, and 850
feet at its deepest.
The hole is a stone’s throw from old
downtown. Old Bisbee resembles a small
San Francisco, but without the ocean, and
years after being hit by a life-obliterating
copper-mining meteor. The pit – gold, red,
yellow, brown, gray, tan, orange – looks
like Mars.
Life on such a planet may have been expectable — or at least acceptable — in the
past, when money was brought out of the
hole as fast as people and machines could
carry. Miners worked for days without go-
ing home when they hit a “hot vein.” In the
time of the mine, Bisbee boomed.
A purple, pink sunset turns a pool at the
base of the pit the color of vomit; under the
full moon, beetle black. On a morning in
January, the brown pond in the hole looked
to be 50 feet in diameter and who knows
how deep.
A ditch directs rain and snowmelt into the
mine to evaporate, keeping chemical drainage away from wells.
A road remains into the pit’s final level
though other roads have washed out. Visitors, cancel your trip to Italy to see ancient
amphitheaters. The walls of the hole in Bisbee’s backyard are now more eroded than
any ruins.
Most of what came out of the mine remains in mountains of dump. The town is
so surrounded by rock waste that Bisbee
doesn’t try to disguise its ugliness.
The first shovel went in to dig the pit in
1917, though the first shipment of copper
came out of Bisbee in 1878. Underground
mines, once mazes for miles into the mountain, are marked now by oil rig-looking elevator shafts to nowhere. Mules were brought
into the ground and left there to work for
the rest of their lives. These entrances to
the underworld have been flooded and filled
since.
Up until the 1970s, miners removed more
than 151 million tons of ore and waste rock
from the hole. Let’s compare that to Arizona
today: that’s 22 tons of dirt for every person
HOLE, Page 2
Zika bug
Foundation exhibit probes native visual stereotypes
lives in AZ
but fear not
By Cali Nash
The Tombstone Epitaph
By Joanna Daya
The Tombstone Epitaph
The Zika virus is taking one country at a
time, and although the mosquito that carries
the virus is present in Arizona, the mosquitoes here do not carry the virus.
The mosquito-borne virus is transmitted
by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, which is
also the main vector for dengue and chikungunya, and has also been detected of carrying the West Nile Virus. Arizona is one
of the states in the U.S. that the mosquito
considers home, according to Dr. Laura Adams, who is with the Arizona Department
of Health Services.
“We have healthy population of Aedes aegypti here in Tucson,” said Michael Riehle,
an associate professor of entomology at the
University of Arizona who researches and
studies the mosquito. “Certainly if somebody is infected with Zika virus and comes
into Arizona, our local mosquitoes can pick
it up and transmit it.”
Zika, despite its possible link to causing
a birth defect in the brain called microcephaly, is also considered to be the milder
virus of the three diseases that the Aedes
aegypti can carry. There have been no reports of death from the Zika virus and only
a few reports of hospitalizations, according
to Jessica Rigler of the Arizona Department
of Health Services.
“With Zika virus, only about one in five
people who get an infection actually develop symptoms,” Rigler said. “For those
20 percent of people that do experience
symptoms after infection, it’s a pretty mild
illness. Typically, those who do experience
symptoms are sick about a week or so, and
they get a rash, fever, pain in their joints and
then red eyes, something like pink eye.”
Still, President Obama has asked Congress to approve $1.8 billion in funds to
help U.S. scientists learn more about Zika
and how to vaccinate against it. Also, pregnant women are being warned not to travel
to regions affected by the virus, including
Latin America and the Caribbean.
Rigler said that although the mosquitoes
are here, the likeliness of seeing a rapid virus outbreak in Arizona is still unknown.
“We’ve seen outbreaks of dengue virus
and of chikungunya in other places of the
world,” Rigler said. “However, in Arizona,
we haven’t really seen any widespread outbreaks of either one of those diseases, so if
we consider Zika the way we would think
about dengue or chikungunya, it is possible, but not necessarily probable that Zika
would spread rapidly.”
The most recent case of dengue in Southern Arizona is from the fall, according to
Michael McGee, interim director of the environmental health division of the Cochise
Health and Social Services.
“It showed up in Douglas,” McGee said.
“It was brought in – they were visiting farther south and it was a traveler that came
back – so it wasn’t one that was caught
here.”
One of the most prominent mosquitoborne diseases in Arizona is the West Nile
virus, which can be fatal.
“We definitely have cases of West Nile
virus that are reported in Arizona every
year,” Rigler said.
Protecting yourself from mosquito bites
is essential.
Health officials such as McGee and
Rigler suggest wearing long-sleeved shirts
and long pants to avoid mosquito bites.
“Also, use an effective insect repellant,”
Rigler said. “[Centers for Disease Control] has a link on their website that demonstrates some different kinds of effective
insect repellents.”
Joanna Daya is a reporter for the Arizona
Sonora News, a service from the School of
Journalism at the University of Arizona.
Contact her at [email protected].
Consider the ubiquitous sepia portrait of
an American Indian, donned in an elaborate
headdress, embodying a kind of displaced
dignity. This image irks Will Wilson.
The stereotypical depiction dates back to
Edward S. Curtis, the celebrated photographer of the early 20th century. Curtis created
an extensive body of photos intended to portray Native Americans as they actually were.
Yet his sentimentalized lens captured the
fantasy of Americans and arguably served to
further displace indigenous cultures from the
norm.
Wilson, an indigenous photographer, combats this romanticism with his own collection of Native American portraits. His work
subverts stereotypes, yet as a contemporary
indigenous artist, Wilson himself defies stereotypes of the types of artwork that Native
Americans “should” produce.
He is part of a larger group of native artists that rejects the frozen ideals of Native
American art as painted clay pots and vibrant
beadwork. These artists work within the contemporary medium to create art that is both
modern and relevant to their experiences.
Wilson says he seeks to “supplant Curtis’s
Settler gaze” with a contemporary vision of
Native North America. His photos mimic the
infamous sepia headshots but cast their gaze
on modern subjects.
His exhibit, “Toward a Critical Indigenous
Photographic Exchange,” is featured in the
gallery at the Amerind Foundation, a hub for
art and research in Texas Canyon dedicated to
the increased understanding of native peoples
in the United States.
The Amerind Foundation began to incorporate contemporary artwork into its museum,
alongside its historic indigenous artifacts, in
the early 2000s, says Eric Kaldahl, the foundation’s deputy director and chief curator.
Kaldahl says the museum did not want
visitors to leave with only the impression that
“native cultures are of the past, rather than
of the present, with vibrant communities and
issues that they’re tackling.” So the founda-
ART, Page 2
Will Wilson’s exhibit at the Amerind Foundation.
Photo by Cali Nash/Tombstone Epitaph
A wet wonderland tucked into Arizona’s SE corner
By Nicholas Cada
The Tombstone Epitaph
Nestled in the Rió Yaqui basin 19 miles
east of Douglas, down Geronimo Trail, is an
ecological wonder unknown to many.
This unique area where Arizona, New
Mexico, and Mexico meet is the result of
four vastly different ecological regions colliding. The Sierra Madres, Rocky Mountains, Sonora Desert, and Chihuahua Desert
converge to form an uncommon wetland in
an area where water is scarce.
In 1982, the San Bernardino National
Wildlife Refuge was established to help protect this oasis tucked into Arizona’s southeast corner.
“The most unique thing about the refuge
is the amount of water,” said Christopher
Lohrengel, assistant manager of San Bernardino National Wildlife Refuge, “You
don’t see that in Arizona outside of the Colorado River.”
Small rivers and streams branching off the
Rió Yaqui in Mexico provide this area with
water.
Due to the abundance of water, the refuge
is home to a vast variety of birds, mammals,
reptiles and amphibians. The refuge is also
home to many species that cannot survive in
the harsh arid environment of the Sonoran
Desert. A variety of toads, frogs and turtles
nest in these wetlands.
The refuge is excellent for hiking and
wildlife photography. Dove, quail and rabbit hunting are also allowed on the refuge in
designated areas.
After a short hike from the gate at Geronimo Trail, visitors will arrive at an overlook.
In the distance, across the border in Mexico,
the Peloncillo Mountains fill the skyline.
Down below, small lakes scatter across the
landscape merely hinting at the amount of
water waiting below.
While hiking down into the basin, visitors
will notice the desert shrubbery dwindling
away to reveal a hidden oasis of grassy,
rolling plains intersected by small running
streams and creeks. Visitors who explore
deeper into the refuge can follow trails cutting through the cottonwood trees that reveal
streams, ponds and a small cemetery.
The refuge begs to be photographed. Circling above in the sky, three red-tailed hawks
search for prey. Inside a pond, ducks swim
above a school of the protected Rió Yaqui
fish species. Small game birds such as quail
and doves nest in the cottonwood trees.
More than 350 wspecies of birds have
been documented on the refuge, and a few
of those species are found nowhere else in
the United States. According to Lohrengel,
almost 6,000 people visit the park annually,
and it is one of the more popular bird watching destinations in Cochise County.
The biggest draw to the refuge is the wildlife. While other national parks and monu-
Photos by Nicholas Cada/The Tombstone Epitaph
A stream flows along cottonwood trees in the San Bernardino National Wildlife Refuge, in Arizona’s Southeast corner.
built next to the shore of a pond. Nourished
by the pond, a sea of green grass envelops
the entire estate. The ranch was originally
the home of Old West gunfighter John Horton Slaughter. He was elected sheriff of Cochise County in 1886 and worked to rid the
area of lawbreakers. Slaughter was responsible for tracking and capturing Geronimo,
the legendary Apache chief caught on the
San Bernardino Ranch in 1886.
The Slaughter Ranch is now museum for
those with an interest in the history of the
Southwest.
Because the refuge is next to Mexico, the
area has a heavy presence of Border Patrol
officers. Their presence, however, fails to diminish the excitement many find when they
come here.
“The amount of water and wildlife here is
really something special,” Lohrengel said.
“It really is a unique area.”
A Jack Rabbit moves along a trail.
ments have more intensive hiking trails and
camping, the refuge’s quantity and diversity
of wildlife is unmatched.
That is why the protection provided by
the National Wildlife Refuge System is so
important. This oasis in the desert is home
to many species that cannot survive in the
harsh conditions of the desert. And without
the refuge, this unique area and its inhabitants would be in danger of extinction.
Located adjacent to the refuge is the
Slaughter Ranch, a small ranch-style home
Nicholas Cada is a reporter for the Arizona
Sonora News, a service from the School of
Journalism at the University of Arizona.
Contact him at [email protected].