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Quest for Peralta Gold: A Hidden History of Red Mountain
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Oneta Vera Enterprises
P.O. Box 41 Sandy, Utah 84091
http://www.onetavera.com/
[email protected]
Publication history:
A4 soft cover edition first published in Australia and the United States by John
Victor Ramses / Oneta-Vera Enterprises for distribution world wide.
© 1997-2000 John Victor Ramses – Oneta-Vera Enterprises
Revised electronic edition authored and developed in Australia by John Victor
Ramses for distribution world wide.
eBook Revised Edition © 2005
Primary Distributors:
Symmetry Media
Kingsley, Western Australia 6026
USA Distribution: Oneta-Vera Enterprises
P.O. Box 41 Sandy, Utah 84093 USA
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be distributed nor reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronically, mechanically, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the
prior written permission of the author or publisher. Un-authorized distribution of
this electronic edition, in part or in whole, will constitute legal action against the
guilty party.
ISNB 0646396528
Front and Back Cover Design by John Victor Ramses
Cover Inset: Landmarks found at Red Mountain arranged as they appear on
Peralta -Ruth Map.
Oneta-Vera Logo designed by Robert Neumann for Oneta-Vera Enterprises
Send all comments and communications to:
P.O. Box 41 Sandy, Utah 84091
[email protected]/
© 1997-2000 John Victor Ramses
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For Trudy
Amid the turmoil of her new life, she sits in the quiet solitude of a sacred land; its
healing energy permeates her soul, releasing emotions long kept at bay within
her. She gazes across the harsh, yet tranquil land where two rivers come
together to quench thirsty lives. In introspect she reflects upon her ancient
incarnations; remembering, smiling, at peace in her desert sanctuary.
The Salt and Verde Rivers converge at Red Mountain
When I walk among the greasewood, mesquite and cacti of this powerful place, I
can still see you sitting there upon a red boulder taking in the beauty of a land
you once feared; belonging there, seemingly, one with the land. Your moments of
peace and your ‘self’ found there. In my heart, Red Mountain will always belong
to you as much as to the Native Americans who reside within its shadow.
John
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Table of Contents
LEGAL NOTICE - A must-read. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------Acknowledgments -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Foreword -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Introduction ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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6
7
12
CHAPTER ONE ~ The Legends - Las Minas de las Sombreras
Don Miguel Peralta and the Sombrero Mines ------------------------------------------------------------Jacob Waltz and the Lost Dutchman Mine ---------------------------------------------------------------Adolph Ruth: The Origin of the Peralta-Ruth Map -------------------------------------------------------
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22
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CHAPTER TWO ~ Perfil Mapa - Deciphering the Peralta-Ruth Map
Greenhorn --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------El Sombrero and the ‘Finger of God’ ----------------------------------------------------------------------S. Cima: ‘From / In the North’ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------Es Carbadia (Escardadia) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Trails and Markers Along the Way -------------------------------------------------------------------------The Mine, a Fox and a Near-fatal Fall --------------------------------------------------------------------Agua ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hoyo ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Tunnel --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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48
51
54
63
69
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CHAPTER THREE ~ Hidden History of Red Mountain
They who came before. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
82
CHAPTER FOUR ~ Back-engineering History
The Legends revisited. – What Really Happened ------------------------------------------------------
104
Reflecting in a Sacred Land
1997 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
109
115
After word
When the Legend Becomes Fact… -------------------------------------------------------------------------
117
Epilogue ‘Legends & Dreamers’ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
118
APPENDIX
Reference maps and notes ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------“I Found the Fabulous Peraltas” – Original 1988 Article by the Author ---------------------------Suggested Bibliography --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Suggested Web Sites -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------About the Author -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Origin of Legendary “Dutchman” Gold Miner Jakob WALTZ Discovered
The single most accurate and important historical research to date concerning the origins of
Arizona’s famous Jacob “The Dutchman” Waltz. A special acknowledgement and debt of
gratitude is given to researchers Burkhart Oertel and Goetz K. Oertel for their excellent efforts
and contribution to the history of Jacob Waltz and for granting permission to include their work in
this edition of the book.
SPECIAL INCLUSION: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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IMPORTANT NOTICE
Disclaimer of Trespass
The Land on which Red Mountain and the surrounding area is located is
RESERVATION LAND belonging to the Native American Communities there.
While public access has been permitted along the river areas, the mountain is
currently off limits at this time except by permission only. While no hiking is
presently allowed at Red Mountain, the landmarks can be seen plainly from the
public accesses. Please do not TRESPASS without PERMISSION IN WRITING
from those representing the Native American Community. While visiting Red
Mountain and the recreation area, please read all signs and notices and follow all
instructions. It is illegal to dig, prospect, carry firearms, trespass or remove any
item from lands belonging to Native American Tribes. The Salt River PimaMaricopa Indian Community was created by Executive Order on June 14, 1879
by President Rutherford B. Hayes and is inclusive of Red Mountain and Arizona
Dam Butte.
Disclaimer of Liability
The author, publisher, staff, any and all associates, affiliates or partners of this
book do not endorse, condone nor suggest illegal trespassing onto Native
American lands presented in this book. Neither do we share in any responsibility
or liability for those who trespass onto lands presented in this book. We do not
accept liability for any loss or injury to person(s) or property as a result of content
written in this book. Trespassing and acquiring entry permission onto lands
mentioned in this book are solely the responsibility of any and all persons visiting
lands mentioned in this book. This disclaimer is considered a fair and reasonable
warning and notice to those who visit said lands.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Leslie Livingston, who first brought me back to Red Mountain after so long away;
Krissy Evans, my dear friend who provided encouragement and a sanctuary in
her ‘healing house’ during the writing of this book; Julie Davis, my ‘partner in
crime’, special love and friend who was always there to rescue this wayward
drifter; Dan Wylde, for providing the photographs of the Peralta Stone Tablets;
Greg Davis for providing information on historic events; Jacky and Scott Brems
for their support and lodging in Arizona when this work began; Tom and Carol
Glover for their frank advice and editorial skills concerning this manuscript.
*****
Mostly to my wife, Lia, for your understanding, patience, encouragement, and
ability to bring it all together and who for these last five years since the original
publication of this book in soft cover has been the backbone of its success.
*****
A very special and warm acknowledgement is given to David Hinchliffe who has
been a good friend across the ‘Big Pond’ and a selfless promoter of the book
since it first appeared in soft cover in 2001. David owns Pinal Media
Communications in Apache Junction and is the editor and distributor for the
popular seasonal newspaper, Arizona Winter Visitor. David’s knowledge in
‘Dutchman’ lore and history is un-paralleled having been personally involved in
the search for the mine and the politics surrounding it through most of his life.
*****
And last but by no means least; I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my father,
Jerry William Dewsnup, who started my passion for history and treasure hunting
in the early 1970’s by telling me the stories of lost gold while on long drives
through the deserts of California. Jerry has been is the Mail Order distributor for
he soft cover edition of the book, based in Sandy, Utah and is the manager of the
U.S division of Oneta-Vera Enterprises. Together we’ve spent countless
fascinating and wonderful hours wandering the landscape of Utah in search of
treasure and the remnants of ancient history.
Thanks, Dad, for all the memories through the years of treasure hunting together!
Pahvant Butte, Millard County, Utah in the region
of Herschel Hill’s lost cave of gold.
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Foreword
This project was started in December of 1996. The first draft, barring
certain details and authentication of various items, was completed one year later
in 1997. It was scheduled for publishing by fall of 1998 (the tenth anniversary of
my discovering the mines and the 150th anniversary of the presumed year of the
Peralta massacre). This was to be a simple project—tell the story of my personal
quest for the Sombrero Mines and show the discoveries I had made. But this
venture would become anything but simple, for no sooner had I started this book,
and had reacquainted myself with Red Mountain and the Sombrero Mines after
being away for nearly a decade, that complications in my personal life began to
manifest—a haunting and unsettling reminder of the fateful year, 1988, when I
first discovered the mines, a year in which I was nearly killed because of my
youthful ignorance and inexperience, and a year in which my obsession with the
mines put myself and my family’s welfare in jeopardy.
Returning to Red Mountain during the winter 1996 and 1997 was not
without many unexpected emotions. Until then, I had not realized to any degree
the roll my obsession with my quest for the Sombrero Mines played to cause the
hardships that both my wife and I faced in 1988. Having nearly decade to mature
since that time (sort of), it was difficult stand there and face myself—the
memories of our dreams-turned-nightmare weighed upon my heart like bags of
Mexican gold upon the back of a tired burro, and as I surveyed the land again the
shapes and colors of the rock, and the scents of the flora cause unneeded
flashbacks to another time when my marriage was young and our hopes were
high for new beginnings in Arizona, which came to an abrupt halt before the end
of that year. Involuntary tears often wetted my cheeks but did nothing to blur the
vision of my mistakes, nor drown the heartbreak that welled up through an
awakening to reality.
Mostly, those few months at Red Mountain were not spent writing or
researching this book, but rather purging those memories on paper; literally,
volumes of paper.
On April 4th 1997, two months of fiddling around with my memories, I left
Arizona with intentions to return again in June to complete my research. One
event after another held those plans at bay and I could only watch in frustration
as the next few years drifted by me without making it back to Arizona. Then, on
July 1, 1999, after a stay in Carson City, Nevada with my two children, I was
again prepared to travel to Arizona to (at last) complete the book. My vehicle was
packed and fueled and friends living in the city of Mesa were eagerly anticipating
our reunion after four years apart. But fate would again arrange alternate plans
for me and steer me even farther from Arizona. At five o’clock p.m., after hugging
my children goodbye, I suffered a heart attack. Their mother rushed to the
Carson-Tahoe Hospital where I was invited to stay in intensive care. When I was
finally released I drove 10 hours, not to Arizona, but instead to Salt Lake City,
Utah where I would convalesce at my parent’s home for another two months.
By this time I was beginning to believe that this book would never be
completed, the discoveries I had made would never be revealed and that the
orders I had in queue would reluctantly have to be declined. Not only was I
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downhearted by this seemingly final set back, but I was also embarrassed, for I
had assured many Dutchman-Peralta enthusiasts that this work would be
completed by mid 1998. After the heart attack, however, I was uncertain, if not
paranoid about my health. Would I have another attack while in Arizona? Would
it happen while alone in the desert conducting research and taking photos? I was
becoming more convinced that these difficulties were due to the curse on the
Sombrero Mines, for the uncanny hardships and misfortunes over the last
decade, beginning in 1988, seemed synchronous with any involvement I had with
the mines, and only seemed to intensify the nearer to the mines I came.
The seven days I spent in intensive care allowed me, if not forced me to
evaluate my life and, indeed, whether or not I would live. After accounting for the
many regrets I had in life I began to mentally list those things that were most
important to me, should I live, and how I would conduct my life from that moment
on. The heart attack left me with a spontaneous memory recall problem, which
continues somewhat to this day.
Even so, lying alone in the hospital room, connected to a network of
advanced electronics devices that beeped and pulsed my vital signs to a
computer own the hall, three most important things managed to purge through
the muddy haze of my confused brain that encouraged a renewed will to live:
First was my children and the grandchildren I had yet to hold and spoil.
Immediately following was a special woman and her two children whom I deeply
loved and who resided 8000 miles away in a distant country.
Lastly, was the completion this book—come hell or high water; for while I
had resigned to abandon the project on occasion through the years I could not
get the Sombrero Mines out of my mind. So convinced was I that these were the
mines of legend, and that the famous Dutchman Mine was waiting quietly on a
ridge of Arizona Dam Butte, that even to here the name ‘Dutchman’ or
‘Sombrero’ lit a fire within me, and when someone would ask about them I would
passionately tell of every detail I knew (for countless hours on end). A friend once
told me that the only time she seen true life in my eyes was while talking of the
mines. It was a strange irony: The same mines that I believed to have been a
curse in my life was also the same that caused the adrenaline to flood my body. I
suppose that once you’ve had gold fever you never truly heal. Like quitting
cigarettes, you still have a craving for one whenever you smell the smoke, even
years afterward. And, of course, there is something mystical and mesmerizing
about the Lost Dutchman Mine in Arizona, as many can attest to.
After regaining my strength in Utah I left my home, the United States of
America, on September 2nd, 1999 to be with the women who would become my
wife, and be with her two children who would become as my own through our
union. I now reside in beautiful Western Australia with them, happy, healthier and
at peace. It is ironic that I would finish the last words of this book on July 1st,
2000—one year to the day that I suffered a heart attack before traveling to
Arizona. Also, just one week prior to completing the manuscript, my wife, Lia,
gave birth to our daughter, Amy, so there was much reason to celebrate at the
Ramses home! (although I felt my chest goes tight again when, at two a.m. that
morning, my wife wandered into our office where I was writing and calmly
announced that she was in labor). I have known Lia for three years, and she has
known me, as well as my deep desire to write this book.
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From a distance she has followed me through the myriad of bizarre
events, struggles and changes, crying when I cried, laughing when I laughed,
dreaming when I dreamed and dying when I thought I was dying. It is solely
because of her unconditional love and support and understanding of my desire to
publish this work that this book is now being read by you at all. I had all but given
up, and as a result a part was empty – a part which yearned to tell this story and
disclose the location of the mines no matter how simple or illiterate, the part
which had gone through so much hell for the mines.
This book is dedicated to my wife of 11 years, Trudy, who was there when
Red Mountain beckoned me to uncover its secrets; who was broken by my lust
and obsession to discover the mines, and who never fully healed emotionally
from that experience, nor from the causal experiences that resulted in the
following years. But if this work can be dedicated to two special people whom I
love and who have played a leading roll in the story of my personal quest for
Peralta’s gold, Lia, my wife now and evermore, should take her rightful place
here, also.
Finally, I would like to thank you for purchasing Quest for Peralta Gold: A
Hidden History of Red Mountain. It is my desire that the reader find the
information provided here as intriguing as the evidence suggests, and that you
are left with little, if any doubt that the legendary Sombrero Mines were real after
all. For those readers who will be visiting Red Mountain and the regions
mentioned in this book, please read the Disclaimer of Trespass found in the
beginning of this book.
2 nd
P
P
John Victor Ramses
Western Australia
July 1, 2000
Edition PDF version May 1, 2005 [Updated]
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Hale-Bopp Comet framed by Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte March 27, 1997. Photo
taken by author while in Arizona camped at Red Mountain during a rare return to Arizona.
Quest for Peralta Gold:
A Hidden History of Red Mountain
Painting of Red Mountain by Chuck Rawle - Landscape and Still Life Painter
[email protected]
http://www.chuckrawle.com
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Introduction
It Is Told...
More than one hundred fifty years ago, it is said an event took place in the
Arizona desert which would begin one of this country’s most persistent legends
of lost treasure ever told, and certainly one of the most passionately sought.
Beneath the pale, jagged cliffs of Superstition Mountain’s north-west end, a
group of hardy Spanish and Mexican miners, on an expedition led by Don Miguel
Peralta, met with death after a long, running battle with the Apache. Scattered
among the ravaged bodies of men, horses and burros was the gold taken from
their rich Sombrero Mines.
Over the century, thousands of people have scoured the rugged
Superstition Wilderness for the source of this gold. Many sacrificed all their
worldly possessions, and even their lives for this quest. While some searchers
through history have claimed to have found specimens of this extremely rich ore
only one man is believed to have been privy to the secret of Peralta’s gold. His
name was Jacob Waltz.
Jacob Waltz was a German Immigrant who spent most of his life as a
miner and prospector. In his latter years he settled onto a section of land just
outside of the young town of Phoenix, Arizona where he farmed, raised chickens
and hogs and occasionally hired himself out as a laborer. In spite of his apparent
poverty it is a known fact that Waltz had a source of rich gold ore that he claimed
came from a mountain range 30 miles east of Phoenix. It has been suggested
that Waltz discovered his now famous gold through the 1870’s. When Waltz died
in 1891 he left behind a candle box (or soap box) containing samples of the
precious ore – ore so rich that if the mine is ever discovered it would indeed be
one of the richest deposits in the world!
It is believed that before Waltz died, he revealed the general location of
the mine to his friend, Julia Thomas, a Mulatto woman who owned an ice cream
parlor in Phoenix. Waltz and Julia were friends and she later took care of Waltz in
his final days. After his death, Julia, convinced she could locate his mine, sold
her confections parlor to outfit an extravagant expedition into the Superstition
Mountains. Whether Waltz intentionally directed Julia to the mine as a gift for her
kindness, or whether she created the clues around hints given up during
conversations with Waltz, is subject to debate. In spite of her diligence to find
Waltz’s mine, Julia’s quest was unsuccessful, to say the least. So, while she may
not have located the rich trove of her old German friend, she does hold the
distinction of being the first ‘Dutchman’ hunter in the century-old saga of the Lost
Dutchman Mine.
During the years preceding her death in 1919, Julia subsidized her
existence by selling hand-drawn facsimiles of a map she claimed was given to
her by Waltz. (Other accounts of the map’s origins, as well as clues to finding the
mine, claim that Julia received the information by means of ‘visions’).
Accompanying this map she offered an incredible tale of how old Jacob Waltz
and a partner, one Jacob Wieser (spelling of the name varies), came into the
mine through a chance meeting with a descendent of Miguel Peralta, who bore
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the same name as his ancestor. The details of Julia’s story varied over the years,
as did the details she drew on her maps. Since her death, it has become nearly
impossible to determine fact from fiction.
Adding to the misinformation is the fact that the period between the years
1890 and 1920 was a time when romantic sensationalism built careers and towns
of a young, fast-growing nation. Easterners and Europeans alike were hungry for
any news out of ‘Indian country’ and journalists fueled their reader’s imaginations
with stories of heroic deeds of settlers and miners and life in the wild, wild, west.
What facts Julia Thomas may have been in possession of were embellished
upon by writers of the time, or discarded completely for more ‘incredible’ events
with which to hold their reader’s interest. So much exaggeration and fabrication
were published that today it is argued whether Peralta and the Sombrero Mines,
or Waltz’s mine, ever existed at all.
Jacob Waltz was an actual historic figure. His gold also was real (some of
it still exists in the form of jewelry). He lived, prospected, farmed and died in the
wild Arizona Territory of the late 1800’s. However, the greater mystery may be in
legend of Don Miguel Peralta—the presumed foundation of the Dutchman Saga.
In fact, did the Peraltas of legend exist at all? Many believe they did not, and if
not, neither do they believe that Waltz’s mine exists—because it is purportedly
one of Peralta’s Sombrero Mines, albeit the richest of them!
There are many camps of thought concerning Waltz’s gold and where it
came from. One group supports a theory that he high-graded the ore while
working as a miner in the Vulture mine near Wickenburg, or somewhere else.
Still others claim it was a cache or storehouse he had found, not an actual mine.
It has also been suggested that Waltz may have worked a vein of ore that would
be rediscovered and filed as the Bulldog Mine shortly after his death. This mine is
just west of Superstition Mountain near where the town of Goldfield would later
be established. The Bulldog had been worked on a small scale prior 1892 and is
believed to have originally been a Mexican operation. Many aspects of this mine
correlate with the description of Waltz’s mine and the ore he had in his
possession (e.g. gold in white quartz from a vein 18 inches wide). However,
samples of the ore Waltz presumably left beneath his bed when he died (now
belonging to a private collector) have been studied by assayers and geologists
who are in agreement that Waltz’s gold came from ‘no known mine’ in Arizona
nor vicinity. It is unique unto itself. Therefore, neither the Lost Dutchman Mine,
nor the richest of Peralta’s Sombrero Mines (both one and the same), has been
located.
To prove that the Sombrero Mines were, in fact, real would lend
substantial confidence to the legitimacy of the legend. Such proof would also
open the door for continued research into the details surrounding Peralta’s
demise and Waltz’s connection to the mines. Yet, in spite of the tale’s tenacity to
endure the scrutiny of time, researchers have been hard pressed to provide
evidence that would prove these certain Peraltas ever existed nor mined in
Arizona in the early to mid 19th century—until now.
In 1988, while researching history in the Fort McDowell area, I discovered
peculiar outcrops and formations closely resembling those seen on a map known
today as the ‘Peralta-Ruth Map.’ I made these discoveries in a region known
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locally as Red Mountain, about ten miles northeast of the city of Mesa, Arizona
where the Salt and Verde Rivers converge, respectively.
Red Mountain, officially named Mount McDowell on USGS topographic
maps, is located in an area that was once casually referred to as the ‘northern
extreme’ of the Superstition Range. My discovery of the landmarks resembling
those drawn on the Peralta-Ruth map launched a personal six-month-long
investigation during which I not only identified all the landmarks called for on the
Peralta-Ruth map but also the mines, the ‘house with cave,’ and the tunnel. My
research revealed a possible long-hidden history of an even older mining
operation dating back to the mid 1600’s. This same quest also introduced me to
the all-consuming power of obsession known as ‘Gold Fever’.
The discovery of these mines and landmarks, being in indisputable
conjunction with the map (which is claimed to have once belonged to the Peralta
family) supplied me with the evidence needed to re-evaluate the legend’s
authenticity which is supported by a location shown on a map that could be
proven to exist. Further, this discovery supplied me with an alternative and more
viable explanation as to where the aging Waltz may have acquired his gold; the
claim that Waltz actually traversed the hostile, deadly interior of the Superstition
Wilderness of the 1800’s are subject to question and in my opinion not reliable
given fact that the Superstition Mountain region was still one of the last Apache
strongholds in the 1870’s. A lone, aging prospector with supplies and a burro
would not have survived long much less make several trips in and out of the
region. Even if he had a partner (i.e. Wieser) they would be no match the Apache
who had lived in the region for centuries.
The Red Mountain region precisely fits the Peralta map. It also matches
the clues given in the Dutchman legend and it may prove to be the location of still
other tales of lost treasure such as Geronimo’s cave of gold and the treasure of
‘Montezuma’s Head’. Red Mountain has stood quietly unobserved by historians
and Dutchman hunters over the last century but is, in reality, a prime location for
such historical events to have taken place. It is secluded, has plenty of water, it is
located at a junction of trails for those traveling along the rivers, is easy to
defend, possesses natural shelters and, most importantly, contains minerals. The
recreation areas that have been set up along the river at the base of Red
Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte have been well known destinations for
residents of the city who hope to escape the oppressive summer heat. Since
olden days, this location was a destination for many travelers, from native tribes
from indigenous peoples, Spanish explorers and miners to prospectors who left
their mark behind in the sandstone rock. Protecting the history of Red Mountain
is one reason that hiking is not permitted today. Even some of the rock writings
that were visible in the late 1980s have now been vandalized; the photos
presented here are sadly the only record left.
The primary purpose of this work is to provide evidence that Peralta and
the Sombrero Mines of legend were indeed real and thus, so is the mine or
cache to which Waltz claimed to have acquired his gold ore from. As the reader
will see, Waltz’s mine may be found high on a ridge of Arizona Dam Butte above
the other mines and the ‘unfinished tunnel’ shown in this book. While the total
expanse of territory these Peraltas mined cannot be known, and while some of
their expeditions likely took them into the region of Superstition Mountain (proper)
15
in search of mineral, this book will attempt to show through the physical evidence
that the original Sombrero Mines were at least founded at Red Mountain perhaps
200 years before the Peralta Massacre. It is the intention of the author to give
this information to the public as evidence that the Peraltas and their Sombrero
Mines did exist at a sacred place called Red Mountain—a place where spirits still
walk and treasure goes beyond gold and material wealth.
16
CHAPTER ONE
The Legends
“Las Minas de las Sombreras”
Recounting the stories of
Don Miguel Peralta
Jacob Waltz
Adolph Ruth
17
DON MIGUEL PERALTA
AND THE SOMBRERO MINES
The stories handed down to us over the past century have created one of
this country’s most romantic, alluring and tragic tales ever recorded in the annals
of lost treasure lore. These tales portray a myriad of people—both men and
women—whose lives and deeds in the quest for this hidden wealth are uniquely
woven into the fabric of Arizona’s history like strands of wool in a Navajo blanket,
each adding to the design, color and texture of the whole. The list of characters
within the matrix of this legend is long and complex, and each is important to
their place in history. This chapter focuses primarily on those individuals whose
role in history creates the foundation for the legend, or held the strongest
testimony to its authenticity.
There are many versions of the legend of Don Miguel Peralta and the
expedition’s demise. The version given here comes through a compilation of
many sources. Unfortunately, none of these sources can be relied on as fact.
Nonetheless, the legend of Peralta and the Sombrero Mines is romantic and
adventuresome in any of its versions. Somewhere beneath the layers of
embellishments lie the basic truths from which the legend was erected—events
that may not be so far removed from fact as historians suggest.
The year was 1847. It was a changing time of endings and new
beginnings. The first Mormon pioneers led by Brigham Young had reached the
Great Salt Lake Valley on 24 July while the war between the United States and
Mexico gained momentum in what would later be known as the Great Southwest
Desert of United States. This war would end early the following year with the
signing of the Guadalupe-Hidalgo Treaty in Mexico City, which ceded the land
from New Mexico to the Pacific Ocean into the hands of the United States. Gold
would be discovered in California just nine days prior to the signing of the treaty
and soon beckon a rush of emigrants to the west. These settlers planted
permanent settlements and industry, securing American interest in the region
henceforth.
The Peralta family was based (according to some accounts) in Cumpas,
Sonora, Mexico. Over generations the family spread out into other locations in
Sonora including Ures and Arizpe, where it is believed that our Miguel Peralta of
legend resided. It is said by some that the Peraltas operated productive mines in
what would later become the state of Arizona, particularly in the mountains north
and east of the Salt River Valley, but except for the mines the Peralta family had
little interest in that land. It was an untamed and inhospitable territory facing
constant threat of Apache attacks. Save for the lonely, understaffed missions
built closer to established towns and villages in Sonora, there were no military
outposts from which to seek protection.
The patriarch of this family was Don Miguel Peralta, an aging yet
influential man of Spanish descent who held impressive investments in land,
mining and livestock. He believed that this trip would be the last trip Peralta
would make to the mines. Whether it was because of the Apache, or the trouble
with the pending treaty, is speculation.
18
Don Miguel Peralta wanted this final trip to be as lucrative as possible.
The ore of that land was good and had helped to make his family name
prominent in years past. Legend records that he recruited the aid of several
hundred men to travel with him in order to work the mines through the mild
winter. In that year of 1847, Don Miguel Peralta, together with his sons and an
army of men, horses, cattle, burros and supplies, bid goodbye to their families
and marched north to the land of the Apache. The mines were called Las Minas
de las Sombreras, or in short, the Sombrero Mines, named primarily for a
prominent hat-shaped peak in the area of the mines. Some accounts claim it was
a name given to the mines by his forefathers who had worked in this region for
generations. Aside from this one peak, there were other formations and outcrops
that resembled ‘hats’ including one which looked as if a giant sombrero had been
tossed upon a ridge where it came to permanent rest. While Peralta called this
unique peak a ‘sombrero,’ it is told in some accounts that the God-fearing miners
thought it resembled more the ‘finger of god’ pointing heavenward.
Once in the region of the Sombrero Mines, the party established a base
camp near water where the arrastras and smelters would be erected to crush
and process the ore. From this base camp, the men were organized into smaller
groups then sent into the surrounding hills to work various claims. Some of these
were rich placer deposits located in ancient streambeds. Still others were tunnels
bored into solid rock extending for hundreds of feet into the earth, some of which
may have been started years ago by Peralta’s forefathers. The processed ore
would be cached in a storehouse until the miners were ready to return to Sonora
the following spring, preceding the summer heat.
Until now, the marauding Apache had left the miners alone, save for a few
skirmishes. But this year would be different. Something greatly angered the
Apache into organizing themselves with the intent of killing the miners to the last
man. There are several versions of what had so offended the Apache as to risk
war with the heavily armed miners. Beside the fact that the Apache were sworn
enemies of the Spanish, one version has it that some of the men were taking
liberties with a daughter or wife of a prominent chief. A more widely told version
claims that the miners had discovered and began working a rich deposit of gold
ore on land sacred to the Apache (this would be the mine Jacob Waltz would
later be accredited with finding). This version seems to be more likely.
The Apache warned the miners to stop digging in the sacred land—the
abode of their ‘Thunder God.’ When Peralta refused to quit such a lucrative
deposit of ore, the Apache had no choice but to defend the honor of their god
and protect his domain, lest they risk punishment themselves for ignoring it.
Peralta was neither concerned nor intimidated by the threats of the few Apache
tribes who inhabited the region. His forces greatly out-numbered them and for the
warriors to attack would be no less than suicide for them. The Apache knew this,
too, but to allow the desecration of their holy site was not an option, neither. A
plan was needed—a plan and many more warriors. Runners were sent to other
tribes living throughout the territory with a plea to join arms against the defiant
miners. Hatred for the Spanish had long flowed in Apache blood and the tribes
were eager to join an assault against them. There was much to be gained by
slaughtering the miners for they had brought with them weapons, horses, cattle,
burros and supplies as well as the clothes they were wearing—all prized by the
19
Apache. At the same time, the Apache would send a chilling message back to
Mexico warning of what would happen to any Spaniard who crossed into Apache
land again. As the warriors began to amass beyond the view of the miners, they
planned the attack. They offered prayers and conducted ceremonial dances to
the rhythm of beating drums around a blazing fire.
It was not uncommon for captured women of rival tribes to be traded for
horses and weapons, nor was it rare to find these women working as slaves in
Spanish camps. Some accounts claim that it may have been one such woman
that was responsible for warning the miners of the impending attack, perhaps
knowing that she, too, might be killed if the Apache won the battle. Now warned,
Peralta called the miners down from their work early to evacuate the territory
before the day of the attack arrived. Immediately the men went to work
concealing the wagons and supplies in pits and caves. If they were going to
survive, they could not be encumbered by unnecessary weight. Most of the
peons had made the long trip from Arizpe by foot, leading supply-laden burros.
Now these burros would have to be ridden in order to escape. Only what gold
that could be carried in the saddlebags and on pack animals of the Spanish dons
would be taken at this time. The remaining ore would have to stay behind in the
storehouse until it was safe to return for it.
By now the Apache scouts had noticed the activity and surmised that the
miners had been forewarned of the attack. The command was given to attack the
camp immediately before the miners could escape, because should they do so,
they would bring back more men and weapons later. The plan was simple: herd
the miners into a vulnerable position where the main body of warriors would
await to ambush them. The Apache split into several garrisons surrounding the
main camp and closed off any passage to the open plain in order to force the
miners to retreat in the planned direction. When the signal was given, a horrifying
sound filled the air. Battle cries and thundering hooves led a cloud of dust from
multiple directions as the Apache raced toward the camp. Fear seized the miners
as they attempted to mount their frightened animals, which bucked or stampeded
in the chaos. As predicted, the miners retreated in the opposite direction, through
the narrow corridor their adversaries had strategically provided.
The Apache, shouting and howling in a macabre blend of screaming men
and musket blasts, rode fast upon their prey. The unarmed peons scrambled
over rock and cactus, quickly becoming disoriented with panic. They were the
first to be slain, their pitiful screams silenced by Apache arrows and flint knives,
their scalps hastily removed. Later, when the battle was won, the warriors would
return to strip the ravaged bodies of all their possessions, leaving the remains for
the coyotes and buzzards. As the miners desperately fled, the Apache prodded
them with arrows to keep them grouped on course to where the main force
awaited to join the slaughter. Several hours later, only the horse-mounted dons
and a few herd-bound burros were still alive. They rode hard and stayed together
for defense but the heavy saddlebags of gold wore on the animals’ endurance.
The pistols and muskets were difficult to reload at such a rough, fast gallop and
the best defense was to keep running until they could find a location in which to
make a stand. But unfortunately, they had run directly into a box canyon with no
way out.
20
Suddenly, the air was filled with a piercing noise that rose above the wind
in their ears and thunder of horses’ hooves. It seemed to come from every
direction as if a portal to hell itself had been opened. The plan had worked. The
dons had ridden into a trap and were completely encircled and out-numbered by
Apache warriors who bore down on them from out of the brush and crags and
even, it seemed, from the ground itself. Some of the miners managed to fire their
weapons, striking a few of the warriors, but it was in vain. The half-naked Apache
rained arrows through the clouds of pale-red dust, killing both man and animal in
their tracks. When the air became still again, Don Miguel Peralta, his sons and
the men who had accompanied him to Las Minas de las Sombreras lay dead.
Strewn among the bodies of men and animals upon the cactus-choked
landscape was the gold taken from the rich Sombrero Mines.
****
While the above account is based mainly upon the romantic imaginations
of previous writers there is strong circumstantial evidence supporting that a
terrible battle between the Apache and Mexican miners did take place very near
Superstition Mountain. Shortly after the Civil War ended a small group of army
troopers who were pursuing a band of Apache happened upon 25 skeletons in
an area that would later come to be called Massacre Grounds. One of the
troopers was a man named William Edwards who was also likely the first hunter
of lost mines in Arizona. The skeletons were bare of any clothing and while
most of the troopers took the remains to be those of Pima Indians who had died
at the hand of their enemy, the Apache, Edwards silently disagreed. Edwards
had a keen eye and noticed one of the skulls had gold tooth. He knew that no
Indian would have had such expensive dental work and that the skull likely
belonged to that of a Mexican of notable standing.
Some time later, Edwards returned to the site by himself and believing the
skeletons to be the remains of Mexican miners he began to back track their
route. Edwards located other skeletons as he traveled deeper into the mountains,
which, to him, clearly suggested that a running battle had taken place. Edwards’
searches led him to discover the remains of a large camp that had been
decimated by the Apache. The camp had been well established suggesting that
the Mexicans had worked the area for a long time. For the rest of his life Edwards
searched for the mine but never found it. William Edwards’ grandson, Ben
Edwards, also searched for the mine.
Traditions among some Apache tell of a great battle with the Mexicans
that took place north of Superstition Mountain. In Tom Glover’s book The Lost
Dutchman Mine of Jacob Waltz –Part 1, The Golden Dream Glover speculates
that not one, but two battles took place in the area: one in the 1840’s (1842 or
1848) and another sometime during the Civil War. To further support claims that
such a battle took place is the strange tale of two men named Silverlocke and
Malm who, around the turn of the century, discovered what they thought was a
float of gold ore very near to the site of Massacre Grounds. A ‘float’ is ore lying
free on the surface of the ground. Silverlocke and Malm believed the ore came
from a primary vein somewhere nearby and spent many years digging beneath
the hot sun for the source. They never found that source because such a vein
21
never existed. It is commonly believed that what Silverlocke and Malm
discovered lying on the surface was the remains of Mexican gold that had been
cut loose from the burros after the battle.
It would not be until nearly a decade after the town of Phoenix and the
Territory of Arizona had been established that a man would come into the gold of
the Sombrero Mines. The events which followed in the wake of this man’s death
would set the stage for murder, con men, adventure, books and movies and
create one of the west’s most celebrated legends of lost gold ever told: Jacob
Waltz and the Lost Dutchman Mine.
22
JACOB WALTZ
AND THE LOST DUTCHMAN MINE
Believed by some to be a photograph of Jacob Waltz
in NYC, NY, circa 1846. (Sheriff Magazine, 1967.)
One year before the demise of the Peralta mining expedition, as if to
answer the call of some preordained destiny in Arizona’s history, a thirty-eight
year old German immigrant named Jacob Waltz stepped off a ship in a New York
harbor. The year was 1846 (Corbin). He was one of many fleeing economic strife
and poverty of his homeland in hopes of starting a new life in America. Jacob
Waltz was born in Oberschwandorf, Würtemburg, Germany in 1808 (or, 1810).
His family were farmers by trade and while there are some accounts that Waltz
studied mining before coming to the United States, no documents have been
found to support this claim.
However, mining was in Waltz’s heart if not his formal training, for shortly
after arriving in America he left for the gold fields of Carolina and Alabama.
These mines had, however, long since played out by the time Waltz arrived on
the scene. Not finding any work to sustain himself, he began to drift westward.
By 1848, Jacob Waltz had made his way to Natchez, Mississippi where he
applied for naturalization as an American citizen in Adams County. Whether his
application lapsed or was declined is uncertain, but Waltz was not granted
naturalization at that time. His true yearning remained to find a livelihood in
mining, so when a cry echoed across the young country that gold had been
discovered in California, Waltz joined the rush. Some accounts say Waltz went to
San Francisco via Panama after taking a ship from New Orleans. A more realistic
theory suggests he hired onto a wagon train heading for the California gold fields.
By way of either route, Jacob Waltz is documented as being in California
throughout the 1850’s, working as a miner for various companies.
In 1861, Waltz again applied for naturalization, this time in Los Angeles
where his request would be accepted. Waltz could now file claims in his own
name and, eager to begin, he joined a group of prospectors heading to the
23
Bradshaw Mountains in the Arizona Territory. Although persistent accounts claim
that Waltz was an enlisted man during the Civil War (1860-1865), this was not
possible as there was not enough time between documents Waltz signed in the
Arizona Territory for him to have served a tour of duty of any length. Further,
researchers have failed to find any documentation of Jacob Waltz having served
in the military, nor ever leaving the Arizona Territory once he had arrived.
By 1866, the little cow town of Phoenix, Arizona had been officially established.
One of the town’s pioneer promoters was a man named Jack Swilling. Swilling
began a campaign to clear out and reopen the ancient ditches and canals of the
Salt River Valley abandoned by the Hohokum Indian hundreds of years before.
Many didn’t believe Swilling could pull off such a scheme, but he proved them
wrong and the renewed waterways became the lifeblood of the community.
These canals first created by the Hohokum Indian and reopened by the early
pioneers are among the same waterways still feeding the metropolis today.
In 1868, Jacob Waltz migrated from the Prescott region to the Salt River
Valley and settled onto a section of land just south of town. Waltz set to work
digging irrigation ditches, planting crops and raising chickens and hogs to reap a
meager sustenance. It is said by some that on occasion, Waltz hired out as a
laborer as well. One particular canal Swilling reopened, called the ‘Dutch Ditch,’
is said to have been created in part due to the hired labor of Jacob Waltz and
several other German immigrants. It is uncertain whether Waltz’s one-room
adobe house was already there on the land or if he built it, but the chores of
working his farm and carving out a new life and home would have kept Waltz
busy for those first years in the valley. It is unlikely that he found much, if any,
time for prospecting, although he certainly must have felt the call to wander out
into the wilds now and then to pick at a rock or two. Jacob Waltz was 60 years
old by the time he settled in Phoenix. For a miner and prospector to live beyond
40 in those days was considered to be a miracle! It has been suggested by
Arizona historian Tom Kollenborn, through research of documents and interviews
with descendants of pioneers that Waltz came into his now-famous gold ore
sometime between 1872 and 1877. During that time, Waltz was said to have
been selling some of that gold around Florence. There are very few accounts of
Waltz and his gold that haven’t been embellished through the years. One
credible account comes to us through an ancestor of a prominent Mormon family
whose forefather owned a store in Mesa. The account comes from an
eyewitness, the daughter of the store owner who was a young girl at the time in
1884, and who saw Waltz come into her father’s store. This account gives a very
good description and profile of Waltz at age seventy-six:
“…I recall the old man the day he came into our family store for supplies.
The skin of his face was parched and dry from the desert sun and hard as
leather. His beard was almost snow white and somewhat stained by
tobacco below his chin. His hands were coarse and callused revealing
many decades of hard work. He no longer stood erect, for his age was
showing. His clothes were dusty and torn but neatly in place…No one at
first paid him any attention until he went to pay for his supplies. In his
wrinkled hand was a small cowhide poke. He loosened the strings and
poured onto the counter yellow gold in a matrix of white quartz...”
24
(Source:
Superstition Mountain: A Ride Through Time - Swanson/Kollenborn)
The above account gives many clues about Waltz, the man. The most
obvious clue is the description of his physical condition: bent with age, weathered
and callused from a lifetime of hard work. The account also mentions his clothes
as being ‘dusty and torn but neatly in place.’ He apparently cared about his
appearance, and yet, a small amount of the gold in his possession would have
bought a new wardrobe in 1884. The impression one is left with is that of a man
who, conditioned by a lifetime of scraping and hardship, was only concerned with
the essentials in life and using what he had to the fullest. Waltz was also a quiet
man keeping conversation to a minimum. After years of observations and
working as a miner, he had likely become wary of everyone, knowing all too well
the nature of a man when he gets gold fever. Spending his first thirty-eight years
struggling in his homeland under strong German traditions had molded the
caliber of the man he would be the remaining days of his long life, and life in
America had only served to temper that mettle. When he died, it is claimed that
Waltz had a fair amount of this gold in his possession (what would later be
coined the ‘deathbed ore’), although the exact amount and worth of that ore is
debated. Yet unto his death, Waltz lived such a humble, impoverished life with so
few worldly goods as to nearly be overlooked by history. It is likely he would have
been if not for the events that followed in the wake of his death.
In May of 1887, a strong earthquake rocked the Salt River Valley. The
quake was felt as far away as El Paso, Texas. Rockslides throughout the
Superstitions changed the very landscape. It is widely believed that Waltz never
returned to his mine or cache after the quake because the location was buried by
rockslides, or because landmarks pointing the way no longer existed. It is also
suggested that the damage caused by the earthquake is the reason no one has
found the location since. But was Waltz’s mine ever located in the Superstition
Mountains we know today? Several years ago, I read a brief article from 1887
that reported on the earthquake damage at Fort McDowell. Interestingly, this
article referred to Fort McDowell as being located in the ‘northern extreme’ of the
Superstition Range. Unfortunately, I have not been able to locate this article
again in time for the first printing of this book (as I am in Australia and my
research notes are [god-knows-where] in the States), but I will include the article
in a following edition, as well as include it on updates on my web site.
Nonetheless, this reference to the location of Fort McDowell as being in
the northern extreme of the Superstition Range suggests that Waltz may have
indeed found his mine in the ‘Superstitions,’ however, just not in the same
mountain to which we refer today. In the latter 1800’s, and even into the early
part of this century, many of the mountain ranges and canyons of the region had
not been given official names. Rather, different people knew them by different
names. Ranchers and soldiers had their own nicknames for them, while those
living in the town had still other names. At the time of Jacob Waltz, only
Superstition Mountain and Salt River Mountains had been given proper names.
Viewed in association with the Superstition Range from 30–40 miles away in
Phoenix, one could get the impression that they were part of one jumbled
continuation of the same range. Superstition Mountain was the most well known
25
at that time, so it is easy to surmise that when someone referred to the
‘Superstition Mountains,’ they may have been referring to a much broader
expanse than we recognize today, using that mountain as a general reference
point. We do this same generalizing even today. Someone may live in Chandler
or Mesa, but when explaining to outsiders where they live they might say ‘I live in
the Phoenix metro area, Phoenix being the most well known of the towns and
cities. This in itself may be one reason the location of the mines could not be
found. The proper naming of those ranges isolated the search area to a more
specific, if incorrect area—Superstition Mountain proper—rather than the
previously known ‘general’ region. This possibility becomes curious when
recounting the clues Waltz supposedly gave to find his mine, for if the Sombrero
Mines are located at Red Mountain—which may have been casually included as
part of the ‘Superstition Mountains’, the Waltz’ ‘Peralta’ mine may be among
them and thus he never lied when claiming that his mine was in the
Superstitions’.
In the year 1891, heavy rainfall caused flooding of the Salt River. The
floods consumed not only part of the growing town of Phoenix but also the
homestead of Jacob Waltz. For several days, he remained trapped in his small
adobe by the high, dangerous waters. A friend of Waltz’s, Julia Thomas, became
concerned for the old man’s welfare and sent her lodger, Rhinehart Petrasch,
and a sheriff to check on him. Waltz was found (according to one version) sitting
upon his bed just above the water line with only a candle for heat (another
version claims he was found sitting in a tree). Rhinehart helped Waltz to a horse
and together they rode back to the Thomas home in Phoenix, where Julia put the
old man up and gave him warm food and clothes. Waltz would never again return
to his humble abode to live on his own. The farm was destroyed, his home badly
damaged. Waltz had also acquired pneumonia during his exposure to the cold
and wet that would require Julia’s care for the remaining months of his life. It is
likely at the home of Julia Thomas that the seeds of the legend of Waltz’s lost
gold mine began to take root. Julia knew well of the gold, for Waltz had given her
some of it to pay off her debts after her husband abandoned her. She assumed
that the gold he offered her then was saved from a lifetime of mining and
prospecting and at first she refused to take it, but Waltz assured her there was
plenty more where that came from. Now lodging and providing for the old man,
and perhaps fearing that Waltz may soon die, Julia may have begun asking him
questions about the mine’s location. What Waltz actually revealed to her, as
opposed to what she may have later invented around the few hints given up in
conversation, has been the subject of controversy since the old man’s death. The
story she told around Phoenix, and later to P.C. Bicknell and Sims Ely, places
Waltz elsewhere on dates when Waltz was known to have been present at
another location. Anyone who has studied the dates of the known documents
signed by Waltz through the 1850’s until his death quickly learns two things:
1- There was not enough time for Waltz to have participated in the
adventures Julia spoke of, and
2- His ‘friend and partner,’ Jacob Wieser, does not appear on record
anywhere in conjunction with Waltz at any time while he was alive (in
Germany, in America, nor anywhere else).
26
Jacob Waltz recovered from his bout with pneumonia for a short period in
during the summer months, but with the return of the cooler temperatures in the
fall he suffered a relapse. Waltz died on Sunday morning October 21, 1891.
There are several versions of the events that occurred the morning Waltz died.
Most accounts agree that Julia Thomas was not with Waltz when he died, for
seeing that his condition had worsened she left to fetch the doctor. (Other
accounts claim that when Julia realized Waltz was dying she began selling
tickets to towns people for one last glimpse of the old man). But Jacob Waltz did
not die alone that morning. There were two men present with Waltz when he
died. One man was Richard ‘Dick’ Holmes and the other was Gideon Roberts.
Julia supposedly discovered the two men waiting on the street outside her adobe
in the pre-dawn hours when she went to find the doctor. Concerned for Waltz,
she asked the two if they would watch over the old man until she returned. They
readily agreed. When Julia returned with the doctor, Waltz was dead, and the two
men quietly left. Later that day, she discovered that the candle box (or soap box)
of gold ore had vanished. For a long time Julia suspected Rhinehart, her lodger,
of taking the gold, but some years later it was learned that Dick Holmes actually
had the gold, claiming that Waltz gave him the gold after telling the (long and
windy) tale of how he came into the mine in the first place. The Holmes version of
Waltz’s mine discovery varies from Julia’s version. Both versions are riddled with
unlikely events or impossibilities.
Several months after Waltz’s death, Julia announced that she would be
heading to the Superstition Mountains to find his mine. She claimed that Waltz
had revealed the location of the mine to her and that she could find it with little
trouble. However, this was not to be the case. Julia sold her ice cream parlor to
finance the expedition, but she never found the mine. Later, to recoup some of
her losses and help maintain sustenance, she began selling copies of a map that
she claimed would lead some lucky prospector to the mine. Accompanying the
map was a colorful and richly crafted tale of how Waltz came into the old Peralta
digs with the help of one of the Peralta descendants, also named Miguel Peralta.
For a while, the rumor of Waltz’s gold created a whirlwind of interest.
Treasure seekers, armed with the tale and map Julia had sold them, often
trekked into the formidable range to try their luck at finding the mine. By the turn
of the century, though, interest had waned as new discoveries of rich ore had
been located just a little northwest of Superstition Mountain in what would
become Goldfield, close to where the remains of the Peralta miners were
believed to have been massacred years before. Jacob Waltz had lived a long life
by the time of his death at age 83. He has been portrayed as a con man and
cold-blooded killer by some, but should the truth ever be known it is my guess
that he was just a simple, quiet man—a loner in a strange land who kept to
himself and helped people when they were down and out, having known himself
what it is like to be down on luck. The gold Waltz is said to have had was real;
Richard Holmes had some of the gold later made into jewelry pieces. This
jewelry, which presumably contains samples of the ‘Deathbed Ore’, is said to be
in the possession of an Arizona businessman and is accompanied by documents
signed by Richard Holmes. Recounting the day that Waltz died, Holmes claimed
that Waltz had given him the gold ore saying, “no one deserved it more.”
27
Somewhere not too far from Phoenix, an elderly Jacob Waltz had located
a source for this gold and kept it secret to the day he died. While Waltz may have
been the only white man to see and take the rich gold of the Sombrero Mines
after the Peralta massacre and live to spend it, only one treasure hunter
subsequently obtained the true map to Peralta’s riches. However, he died in the
rugged Superstition Wilderness searching for it. His name was Dr. Adolph
Ruth.....
Note: See updated information on the identity and history of Jacob
Waltz as authored by researchers Burkhart Oertel and Goetz K. Oertel at
the end of this e-book edition.
Custom lighter made from the’Death Bed’ gold that Richard “Dick” Holmes
claimed had been bequeathed to him by Jacob Waltz before his death.
(Shown in Helen Corbin’s book ‘Curse of the Dutchman’s Gold’ 1991)
28
ADOLPH RUTH
The origin of the Peralta-Ruth Map
Adolph Ruth
(Superstition Mountain Historical Society)
It was the mysterious and tragic death of Dr. Adolph Ruth in 1931 that
prompted another round of interest in the Lost Dutchman Mine. Until then,
popular interest in the mine had settled into the hot, dusty land and was pursued
only by a few die-hard locals. But like an unexpected gust of wind upon a quiet
plain, newspapers picked up the story of his death and carried it across the
nation, even as far as England, once again resurrecting the legend to life with
renewed vigor.
The story of Dr. Adolph Ruth and his search for the Lost Dutchman Mine
has its beginnings many years earlier in 1913-14. At that time, his son, Erwin, a
veterinarian, had been commissioned by the U.S. government to inspect cattle
that were being imported to the United States from Mexico. It was in Mexico that
Erwin received a map and other documents that would later result in his father’s
death. The Mexican Revolution was well under way by 1913 and the United
States favored General Carranza’s efforts in the rebellion. In order to provide
funding for the General’s cause, the United States began buying cattle from
Mexico. U.S. sanitary codes were in place by then to prevent diseased livestock
from infecting the American beef industry, and, to ensure this, the U.S.
government commissioned Dr. Erwin Ruth, who was fluent with Mexican customs
and language, to oversee the inspection.
During his tenure in Mexico, Erwin Ruth had witnessed many
insurrectionists captured and executed. One such man was named Juan
Gonzales, who was being escorted under heavy guard. Erwin recognized the
incarcerated man (possibly as an old friend from the States) and asked one of
the soldiers for permission to speak with him before they took him away. During
conversation, Gonzales explained that he would soon be put against a wall and
shot. Fearing for his wife and children, he asked Erwin to take them into America
29
where they would be safe. Gonzales had nothing to offer in payment except
some old maps and documents, one of which showed the location of mines in
Arizona. These mines were owned and worked by his wife’s ancestors whose
family name was Peralta; they had been killed by Apaches while fleeing from the
mines.
Erwin Ruth found compassion for the doomed man and obeyed his last
request. He took the Gonzales family to the safety of Texas, but he had no
interest in the old maps, save for a sentimental token of his experiences in
Mexico. When he at last returned to his home in Washington D.C., he showed
the maps to his father and told him the sad story. His father acquired an interest
in the maps—one that would ultimately prove to be fatal.
It should be noted here that in light of the situation, it would seem unlikely
that Gonzales’s last request would come attached with a bribe of false
documents. Erwin was reputed as having little or no interested in the maps, nor
in the mines, but rather helped the man’s family out of compassion alone. Adding
support to Gonzales’ claims is the fact that the map does, indeed, precisely
match landmarks located in Arizona, very near to where the Sombrero Mines and
Peralta mines of legend were said to be.
Also fitting in with the legend is that the Gonzales’ ‘Peralta’ miners were
killed by Indians while working the mines. It is unlikely that Erwin Ruth would
have fabricated the connection between the maps and the actual legend,
especially in light of his disinterest in the mines. The tale Gonzales told Ruth,
therefore, must be the truth; the Sombrero Mines and the Peraltas did exist.
As time went on, Erwin’s father, Adolph, talked more and more about
trying to find the mines mentioned on one of the maps. He believed, like so many
before and after him, that the mines could be easily located. Erwin refused to
squander his valuable time looking for lost mines, but still his father was
persistent. Then, sometime near the end of that decade, Adolph convinced his
son to take a long, deserved vacation to California with him. Only after several
days on the road did Adolph tell his son the true nature of the trip—to locate the
Lost Peg-Leg Mine in the Anza-Borrego desert. At first, Erwin was furious and for
some time he refused to talk to his father.
Eventually, though, he gave in, deciding that the trip might get the fever for
lost mines out of his father’s system once and for all. It was nearing sundown a
few days later when Erwin decided it best to pull off the road for the night and
make camp. In the near distance the Anza-Borrego Mountains loomed into the
evening sky above the eerie shadowed land. As Erwin set up camp, his father
took advantage of the remaining light to scout around, but when he did not return
to the car Erwin became greatly concerned.
Anyone who has ever lived in the deserts of the American Southwest
knows how quickly the landscape can become obscured when the shadows of
night befall the terrain. Trails and landmarks become one with the sky in an
opaque mixture of indigo hues. It is easy enough to become disoriented during
the day, but when the sun goes down beyond the jagged horizon all perception of
direction can be lost as predators awake to begin their nightly hunt.
It now was long after dark and Adolph had still not returned to the camp
despite his son’s relentless calls and flashing of the vehicle’s headlights. As the
minutes wore into hours, Erwin knew that his father was in trouble, yet he could
30
not leave the site and go for help in case his father did return and discover the
vehicle gone. Neither could Erwin venture too far into the night lest he too risk
becoming lost or injured. All Erwin could do was stay put, call out and pray that
his father would be safe until daylight permitted a search. When dawn finally
came, Erwin wasted no time in getting help. Taking the car, he back-tracked the
road to a ranch house they had passed the previous day. The rancher, C.E.
Bemis, was sympathetic to Erwin’s situation. Knowing how treacherous the
terrain could be in that area, Bemis gathered some ranch hands and horses to
help in the search. It would be another four days before the party located Adolph
Ruth lying in the bottom of a dry ravine. He was suffering from exposure,
dehydration and a broken hip, which would require surgery, a steel plate and
much time to heal before the elder Ruth would walk again. As a result of the
broken hip, one leg was slightly shorter than the other. Adolph Ruth would walk
in pain with a severe limp ever after.
One special note of interest is a strange comment the elder Ruth made
when his son at last found him in the ravine. As his son approached his father,
Adolph said simply, “I found it!” Whether he was referring to the Lost Peg-Leg
Mine will never be known, but he would write an equally cryptic statement in a
notepad a decade later shortly before his death while he was searching for the
Lost Dutchman Mine in the Superstition Mountains.
In the summer of 1931, Adolph Ruth again became obsessed with
tracking down one of the Spanish mines on the Gonzales maps Erwin had given
him. This time it would be the Lost Dutchman Mine in Arizona. No doubt Adolph
Ruth had researched the legend during the years he was convalescing from his
injury in the Anza-Borrego desert and had learned that the Dutchman mine had
once belonged to the Peralta family. All the hype about how rich that mine was—
and how rich the finder would be—only fueled his determination to take another
trip west, and Adolph had one thing the other seekers didn’t have—a map once
belonging to the Peralta family. With this map he believed he would succeed
where others had failed.
Adolph Ruth asked his son to again travel with him to search for the mine,
but remembering all too well the last trip they took, Erwin flatly refused. However,
Adolph was irreproachable. He decided to make the journey to Arizona without
his son’s companionship. While Erwin would not attend his father on this trip to
the Arizona desert, Adolph would not be traveling alone, either. He hooked up
with a young man who was also heading west, offering to take him as far as
Phoenix in exchange for sharing the driving. On May 4, 1931 Ruth and his
traveling companion left Washington DC for Arizona and arrived in Phoenix a
little over a week later. Once there, Ruth and his companion parted ways and the
young man was never seen again.
On May 13 Ruth drove to the home of William Augustus Barkley, whose
ranch, the Quarter Circle U, was nestled against the Superstition Range.
Hospitality at the Barkley home was renowned. The Barkley ranch was often
visited by ranchers, cowboys, and prospectors who lived in the area. The day
Ruth came to the ranch was no different. Several men were visiting with Barkley
when Ruth knocked at the door. One of these men was Brownie Holmes whose
father, Dick Holmes, had been one of the two men present with Waltz the
morning the old prospector died. Also in the room were two cowboys employed
31
on the ranch who were listening to the idle conversations and experiences of the
older men. After introductions, Ruth wasted no time in getting to the point. He
told them he had come to find the Lost Dutchman Mine, and that he had a map
that once belonged to the Peralta family. The map, Ruth explained, showed a tall
prominent peak. If he could find that peak, he would have no trouble finding the
rich mine. One can imagine the room falling silent as Ruth told the story of how
the map came into his possession, and how it closely tied in with the story of
Jacob Waltz and his lost mine.
Until then, no one knew how to find the mine but Ruth, armed with his
map, believed that finding the mine would be as simple as finding that peak.
Barkley admitted that there was in fact a peak in the area fitting that description
called Weaver’s Needle, but the interior of the Superstition Wilderness was
deadly and inhospitable and was no place for a greenhorn to be traveling alone.
It would be especially deadly for a man in as poor physical condition as Ruth
obviously was. Here stood a man who was aging and crippled, who had rarely
left the comforts of big city and was telling total strangers all about a map he had
that would lead him to the richest mine in the world (a mistake I’ve myself made).
Ruth asked Barkley if he would pack him in as far as the peak, offering to pay
him for his time. William Barkley flatly refused, knowing it would be the death of
the old man. Temperatures in the Superstitions were approaching one hundred
degrees in places and it was still early in the summer. If the heat wasn’t enough
to kill the old man, any number of other circumstances would. Even the most
experienced of men have met with death in those mountains and Barkley would
have no part in condemning this man to the same fate. But knowing how far Ruth
had traveled Barkley invited him to stay on at the ranch to rest up before
returning to Washington D.C. Ruth had no intentions of going home before he
located the mine, however. As was his way, he badgered Barkley again to take
him in to the mountains. Barkley grew agitated with the man’s obnoxious
persistence and decided to pacify him. Barkley agreed to pack Ruth into the
range as far as the spring in West Boulder Canyon, which would place Ruth just
two miles from Weaver’s Needle. He would have to wait, however, until Barkley
returned from a business trip in Phoenix, which would take about a week.
William Barkley hoped Ruth would come to his senses by then, having the
chance to experience Arizona’s heat at the semi-comfort of the ranch house. This
would not be the case. In fact, Ruth did not wait for Barkley to return from
Phoenix but instead persuaded the two cowboys, Purnell and Keenen, to pack
him in before Barkley returned.
Early one morning, shortly after Barkley had left for Phoenix, Purnell and
Keenen saddled the horses and tied Ruth’s supplies to the pack animals. They
then led the old man into the rugged range. For Ruth it was a grueling and painful
ride, certainly not at all what he expected. The two cowboys helped Ruth set up
camp before leaving him alone to fend for himself and search for the mine. When
Barkley learned that the cowboys had taken the old man into the mountains
against better judgment he became furious. Without hesitation, Barkley rode to
the spring where Purnell and Keenen had left the old man, but when he arrived
there was no sign of Ruth to be found. Barkley conducted a preliminary search of
the area around the camp and called out for him, but only the rustle of wind
through the cactus and palo verde trees answered back. Several more searches
32
were made in the days that followed, but it would not be until six months had
passed that any sign of the old man would be found. When Ruth was found, it
would be a morbid scene!
On December 15, the Arizona Republic sponsored an archaeological
expedition into the Superstition Mountain to locate ancient Indian ruins rumored
to exist in the wild outback. Among this group were photographers from three
different newspapers, an archaeologist named Odds Halseth, and Brownie
Holmes as their guide. The man who donated his horses and pack animals was
Richie Lewis. It was Lewis’ dog, Music, who made the grizzly discovery five days
into the trek. Music began to sniff and whine around an object lying beneath a
tree. Brownie Holmes was the first to investigate. Lying on the surface of the
ground was a skull, and as the rest of the group gathered around, Holmes picked
up the artifact and examined it. A moment later he announced, quite certain, that
it was the skull of Adolph Ruth! How Brownie Holmes knew this must have been
questioned by someone in the group, for he went on to explain that while Ruth
had been at the Barkley ranch he had studied the man’s features and noted his
high fore-head. One unique aspect of the skull was a large, gaping hole in the
temple region that would later be determined by examiners to have been
produced by an old Army style forty-four caliber revolver, although this claim is
still debated.
Brownie Holmes poses beside Music, the hound that discovered the skull of Adolph Ruth.
The skull can be seen on the ground in front of them. (Superstition Mountain Historical Society)
33
William Barkley collects Ruth’s remains.
Suddenly disenchanted with old Indian ruins, the newsmen were eager to
return to civilization with information about the disappearance of a man who had
captured headlines months earlier. As the news of the discovery swept across
the country, Ruth’s son, Erwin, left immediately for Arizona to conduct a search
for the rest of his father’s remains. Despite search efforts by Erwin and county
officials, Ruth’s remains were not located until the following January when a
persistent William Barkley, who may have felt some responsibility for the old
man’s death, found the remains high in a ravine one-half mile from where the
skull was lying.
Among the remains Barkley discovered, which proved they belonged to Adolph
Ruth, was the steel plate Ruth had surgically implanted after his failed expedition
into the Anza-Borrego desert a decade earlier. In one of the pockets of the
tattered clothes was found a notebook in which Ruth had journalized his daily
experiences and thoughts. His last entry in the notebook has left many students
of the Dutchman legend believing he may have actually found the mine before he
died:
‘It lies within an imaginary circle whose diameter is not more than
five miles and whose center is marked by the Weaver’s Needle,
about 2,500' high, among the confusion of lesser peaks and
mountainous masses of basaltic rock. The first gorge on the south
side from the west end of the range—-they found a monumented
trail which led them northward over a lofty ridge, thence downward
past Sombrero Butte, into a tributary canyon very deep and rocky
and densely wooded with a continuous thicket of scrub oak.’
(Source: Superstition Mountain: A Ride Through Time—Swanson/Kollenborn)
Beneath this Ruth had added, ‘Veni, Vedi, Vici’ which means, ‘I Came, I
Saw, I Conquered’. And below this was written, ‘about 200 feet across from the
cave.’
34
In my opinion, the statement Ruth made in the above text does not bear
testimony that he actually found the mine, but rather may have been surmising
the route taken by the Peralta miners as he sat gazing across the forbidding
expanse of high peaks and deep canyons. For as the legend goes, the mine is
supposed to be in the top of a steep and rugged ravine, certainly beyond the
reach of the aging, crippled Adolph Ruth. Further, many of the clues had been
given in earlier accounts of the Lost Dutchman Mine as told by Julia Thomas
after Waltz died, and they were reported in the articles written by Bicknell. Ruth
would have known this if he had read of the legend at all.
As for the comment, ‘Veni, Vedi, Vici’, that, to me, is more obvious. It was
a self-congratulatory expression induced by the inspiration of an incredible
achievement. For Adolph Ruth, against all odds and threat of defeat, had—in his
mind—conquered the mighty Superstition Range and stood where he believed
the Peralta miners had once worked the great Sombrero Mines. His persistence
and determination had paid off—he had arrived! And even though he may not
have found the Lost Dutchman Mine yet, he stood in the midst of some of the
wildest, most untamed and rugged country in the world, and for Ruth that was
certainly an achievement worthy of claiming the Latin quote for a proud moment
in his life.
While Adolph Ruth did not locate the mine, I believe he did hold one of the
true maps leading to the Sombrero Mines. But Ruth’s research had led him (as it
had so many other treasure hunters) a dozen miles south and east of where the
mines were actually located. The map Ruth used (which some accounts claim
did not surface until a decade after his death) became known as the Peralta-Ruth
map. Although there are several facsimiles available to treasure hunters, only the
map reproduced in Swanson’s book depicts drawings that match the real
landmarks. As the reader will see, this map was crafted in a unique fashion
worthy of respect for its creator—possibly Don Miguel Peralta himself.
CHAPTER TWO
Perfil Mapa
Deciphering the
PERALTA-RUTH MAP
Peralta-Ruth Map
35
36
GREENHORN
I first heard of the Lost Dutchman Mine from my father when I was about
eleven years old. He had bought an inexpensive metal detector for our family
outings and after I had discovered a mysterious 18th century Spanish medallion
in the clay of a dry lake bottom in California, my interest in buried treasures was
born. Having the same passion, my father often talked of legends of lost mines
and buried cache. Over the years, we have spent many rewarding hours hunting
treasure in the mountains and deserts of the western United States, but it was
the story of Jacob Waltz and the Lost Dutchman Mine that stuck with me through
the years. I envisioned the stereotypical prospector with a long, gray beard
leading a tired supply-burdened donkey through the desert in search of gold.
It was purely by chance, or perhaps fate, that I would become involved
with the legend of the Lost Dutchman Mine many years later. My wife and I had
moved to Phoenix to take a new job and start our new life together. We had only
been married several months by then. Trudy was my second wife. She was a few
years older than me but a lifetime wiser. We brought with us her five children and
a U-Haul truck full of belongings and settled into a home in Mesa, Arizona.
Arizona was magical to me then. It was new, fresh and held a promise of greater
things to come. For Trudy, however, it was just damn hot. I suppose that moving
her there in July from the moderate climate of northern Utah didn’t help her
adjust any easier.
One day while shopping for groceries at a Fry’s food store, I happened
upon a paperback book about the local history called The True Story of
Superstition Mountain and the Lost Dutchman Mine by Robert Joseph Allen. I
later learned, while talking to Arizona historian Gregory Davis, that it was the
wrong book to read for facts concerning the legend, nor facts about anything.
Nevertheless, it was solely this book and the colorful, captivating story Allen
wrote that led me to the Red Mountain area in the first place. Allen paints a
wonderful canvas of events that supposedly happened near that location. I soon
became fascinated with the history of Fort McDowell and often spent time out
there looking at the scenery and envisioning the history. I never intended to
search for a lost mine, nor any of the other legends of gold, but I did keep mental
notes of the landmarks mentioned and pondered what may have truly happened
in history after the egos and movie credits were shed aside. I also began to
collect books on the subject and soon had a small library occupying a space in
our bedroom.
Through experience, I am a firm believer that every legend, no matter how
unrealistic or far-fetched it may sound, contains an element of truth—a
‘foundation event’ upon which the legend was erected. It was getting to this event
that began to occupy my time, then, eventually consume it. I visited museums,
historical societies, libraries and treasure-hunting supply shops. At each place to
which I went asking for information about the legend, I was greeted with pitiful
looks and faint whispers saying, “Here comes another Dutchman hunter, poor
37
guy, and a greenhorn, too!” It may have been the wild, glazed-over look in my
eyes that tipped them off, but indeed, I had become a regular Dutchman junkie.
Because of my quest to find the Sombrero Mines, that year would prove to
be an especially difficult year for myself and my wife. If truly there was a curse on
the Dutchman mine for all who search for it, in the Superstition Mountains or
elsewhere, it would manifest itself in hardship and unexpected events that would
ultimately force us to abandon our Mesa home and leave Arizona by that year’s
end. Most of those events were circumstances directly related to my search for
the mine, and later, an article I had released concerning my discoveries. Like
Ruth, I was a greenhorn. I talked openly of my discoveries to strangers who, of
course, listened eagerly. Whatever questions they asked, I would answer to the
best of my knowledge. As my research continued, I began to feel like a kind of
celebrity, having information on one of Arizona’s greatest legends. In hindsight, I
was just another naive treasure hunter who had come to find the Dutchman.
Sometimes it’s not the success you achieve in life, but the education you get
along the way that matters most.
In the fall of that year, I wrote an article for Treasure Magazine concerning
the discovery. I did so only because I became paranoid that another author was
trying to steal my discoveries, but paranoia is a common element of gold fever.
The article was published in October and shortly afterwards our trouble increased
beyond our ability to cope. Our daughters began complaining of being stalked
while walking to school and both my wife and I were harassed at work by people
wanting to know more about the location of the mines. Some offered to become
my partner while acting as if we had been long-time friends. The phone rang
incessantly at all hours of the day and night. People called from across the
nation—one even phoned from England—asking this or that about the mines.
One man, claiming to be a producer of documentary films, asked me to front
$5,000 to him in order to secure a contract for a film on Spanish mines he was
producing. He wouldn’t tell me whom he represented, claiming that he had to
have a contract with me first to avoid having me seek out bids from his
competition. Yeah, OK. I was naive, but not plain stupid! Nonetheless, it was
becoming an intolerable situation, and one that was turning deadly, for while
hiking around the mountain one afternoon in early November, I was shot at by
one of two men who had followed me this day, apparently hoping to learn the
whereabouts of the tunnel or mine I had discovered. The bullet grazed my
abdomen, tearing a hole in my jeans from the concussion, and left a small scar
on my flesh.
By the end of that year, my wife and I had decided it was best to leave
Arizona and so, by the last week in November, we had loaded another U-Haul
truck and headed back to Utah. But this exodus was not taken without heartbreak
and many tears. Our hopes and dreams of starting a new life in Arizona had
turned into a nightmare. There was a deeper, personal attachment to the area,
also, for only the previous year she and I had been married at a wonderful
ceremony on my father’s property in Hayden, Arizona. It was Trudy’s first
bonding to the immensely beautiful but harsh environment of the American
southwest desert.
At times during the chaos of that year, Trudy would accompany me to Red
Mountain. It brought her joy seeing my excitement while pointing out the
38
landmarks and recounting the legends to her (over and over and over). Trudy
found the most pleasure and peace while sitting upon the slope at the base of
Red Mountain’s vertical cliffs, staring across the land with the clear, inviting
Salado (Salt) and Verde rivers below. She often commented on how she felt so
at peace there as if she had once lived there long, long ago. Indeed, we would
greatly miss Red Mountain—and Arizona. We decorated our Utah home in
southwest styles and played Native American flute, country and Mexican music
in a vain attempt to recapture some of our lost connection to that desert land.
From afar, I continued my research while becoming ever-more certain that what I
had found was indeed the Sombrero Mines and that Red Mountain was the real
El Sombrero. Many years would go by before I would again gaze upon the stony
outcrops and formations of that grand mountain, and many years still before I
would reveal what secrets I had discovered in that emotional and enlightening
year.
In December of 1996, eight years after we had abandoned our Mesa
home, and at the insistence of a dear friend, I did at last return to Red Mountain.
A lifetime seemed to have passed since I last stood in that peaceful place
beneath the outcrops and formations I had once been so thrilled to discover long
ago. Trudy would not be with me then. It seemed that some of the bitterness from
1988 would not heal, but rather had aided in circumstances that led to the
ultimate end of our lives together. Over the years, I inwardly blamed her for
having to leave Arizona, for not being strong enough to handle the lifestyle the
desert demanded, but, of course, it was not her fault, but my own and my
obsession with the mines. As I hiked quietly amongst the greasewood and
saguaro cactus and reviewed the old workings and landmarks, emotions once
again gripped me. I was flooded with memories and felt strangely as if I had
come home again, like the proverbial prodigal son—a little older and wiser. The
landmarks seemed bolder than I remembered and the passage of time had not
dimmed my conviction that Red Mountain was the location to which the PeraltaRuth map referred. The cool winter breeze rustling through brush and rock
seemed to beckon that a story be told. Not as much my story, but the mountain’s
story, one that had long been over-looked by historians and treasure seekers
who had instinctively fixed there sights on a mountain range farther to the south
and east. I felt compelled then to tell all I knew of Red Mountain and the
discoveries I had uncovered nearly a decade before.
39
EL SOMBRERO
and the
‘FINGER OF GOD?’
It was in January of that year, 1988 that I first made the connection
between the outcrops and formations of Red Mountain and the landmarks shown
on the Peralta-Ruth map. A light rain was falling across the land and the air was
richly scented with the fragrance of a desert opening up to receive a rare drink. I
was a month away from my 28th birthday and was, at that time, working nights
for a commercial cleaning company. My wife worked days for Bell Telephone, as
it was called then, and she often had to work weekends. While she was at work, I
would head off on history-seeking forays. I had learned of a little known fort in the
area of Red Mountain called Fort Badger, but no one knew anything about the
fort, which supposedly predated Fort McDowell, other than its rough location. It
had been mentioned on only two maps from the 1800’s and as far as I could
learn, it was not recorded in journals or military documents of the period.
Likely, it had been a small camp rather than a true fort. With a little
persistence, though, I believed I could find some artifact or remains of it, if only
the outline of stones where tents had once been erected. Besides, it was a good
excuse to stroll through the peaceful desert landscape and re-calibrate my
thoughts after a busy week at work.
Driving east from Mesa on Beeline Highway across the Salt River PimaMaricopa Indian Reservation, Red Mountain is seen as a broad mass of pinkgray stone scarred with countless potholes and small caves. It leans slightly to
the north as if it once collapsed under its own weight eons ago. At its summit, it
towers 2,550 feet, making its presence known from many miles around.
As one continues driving eastward, the mountain begins to shift and
reform, sometimes so rapidly that it appears to be animated—morphing from the
broad mass as seen on the west into a tall, ascending peak as viewed from the
north. Every quarter-mile the mountain takes on a new shape and size until it
once again begins to broaden out on the east side before it disappears behind
the dark rise of Arizona Dam Butte adjacent to it.
40
Red Mountain as seen from the west along Beeline highway
(Photo: Deanna Dewsnup)
Red Mountain as seen from just east of Shea Blvd.
While Red Mountain can be seen for miles around, the point where it
appears as a tall, ascending mass of stone can only be seen for a brief moment
through a niche between two hills. Most travelers overlook this grand image, not
realizing it is there in the time one has to look while driving. Taking your eyes off
the road in that area has proven to be fatal at times, but it was this particular
shape of Red Mountain that sparked a connection in my memory to something I
had seen before. At the time, I couldn’t remember what the connection was, but
the outline so impressed me that I was compelled to return to that location on the
highway to think about it.
I pulled a safe distance from the road, grabbed my camera and walked to
the fence line to get a better view. As I stood marveling in its grandeur, I began to
see clearly an ‘image’ in the mountain that sent a feeling of reverence and awe
through my entire being. Suddenly, I was no longer looking at a red mass of
conglomerate stone, but instead a perfect, haunting image of a ‘Indian’ sitting as
in prayer, a shape carved out by millennia of weather and geological forces. The
image required no imagination to make out; the knobby peak forms his head and
left profile of his face. He looks to the east beyond the horizon and his mouth is
slightly open as if he is conversing with God. A headband holds back his long
41
hair, which cascades down to his shoulders. A serape covers his body and from
beneath it one can see his arm folded across his lap. In his hands he holds three
‘bags.’ The entire mountain becomes this spectacle, visible with little or no
imagination. I snapped a photograph, but even in doing so I knew the photo
would never do the image justice as it does while viewing it in person.
Red Mountain, as seen from north, becomes this image of an Indian that
the author calls, ‘Communing with Great Spirit’. Could this be the real ‘Head of
Montezuma’ of treasure lore? There is a cave just beneath the chin of the
‘Indian’, as some legends claim.
Red Mountain from this location (old trail head) appears a giant stone monument in the shape of a Native American.
Living between Utah and Arizona for most of my life, I have had the
opportunity to see many wonders carved by nature. This image at Red Mountain
is by far the most striking I have seen. For an unknown length of time, I gazed
upon this impressive image. It seemed to draw me into it, causing time, and even
the whine of vehicles passing a short distance away to abate from my
consciousness. To this day, when I visit Red Mountain and the image I call
‘Communing with Great Spirit,’ I experience the same sensations as I did that
first day. It leaves me with a long-lasting inner peace, drawing out the mental
pollutants of my hectic life. As a treasure hunter and lover of history, I’ve trained
my eyes to see what may otherwise go unnoticed. The outline of Red Mountain
at that location haunted me, and for more than just the image of the ‘Indian’.
Somewhere I had seen that particular outline before and I was certain it
was not just another mountain I had passed in my travels. Several days later,
while reading through a book entitled Superstition Mountain: A Ride Through
Time by James Swanson with Tom Kollenborn, I rediscovered where I had seen
that outline. In the chapter concerning Adolph Ruth was a photograph of a map
42
Erwin Ruth had acquired from Gonzales while in Mexico—the map which later
became known as the Peralta-Ruth map. On that map, the peak labeled ‘S.
Cima’ matched the outline of Red Mountain from this location only. An eighth of a
mile difference in travel changes the entire shape of the mountain.
Red Mountain as seen from the north along Beeline Highway.
Inset: Section of Peralta-Ruth map
Swanson’s book was one of the first books I had purchased when we
arrived in Arizona. I read it so often over that year that the pages eventually fell
apart (and it’s a well bound book). The section on Adolph Ruth was among the
most intriguing tales to me because of the way the map was acquired and its
association with the Peralta Mines. I could also understand why Weaver’s Needle
43
had been selected as the peak in question on the map. All versions of the legend
claimed that the mines were near a very tall, prominent peak. When Adolph Ruth
had asked William Barkley the whereabouts of a peak matching the one on the
map, the first and most natural answer would be Weaver’s Needle. The legend
does mention Weaver’s Needle, all searches up until then had been focused in
the Superstitions, and also because Ruth had come looking for the mine in the
Superstitions. I believe it was simple power of suggestion that, once again,
Weaver’s Needle had been named. Had he asked someone in town the
whereabouts of such a peak, he would have likely got as many answers as
people he asked.
It has always been curious to me that the drawing on the map, although
representing a sharp peak, had been labeled as ‘Cima’, which is Spanish for
‘summit.’ The term clearly did not imply a sharp pinnacle (such as Weaver’s
Needle) or it would have been labeled as ‘Picacho’, for peak. Weaver’s Needle is
a sharp peak from any angle viewed, whereas Red Mountain appears as a
similar peak from one location alone. The rest of the time, it’s just a big broad
mountain which does, in fact, have a summit. The second thing that baffled me
was that if this peak referred to Weaver’s Needle, which was commonly thought
to be ‘El Sombrero’, then why was the peak on the left of the map labeled as ‘El
Sombrero’? Could it be that Weaver’s Needle had never been the intended
landmark? According to Herman Petrasch (brother of Rinehart Petrasch) who
was interviewed in 1953 by Mary Bagwell, Jacob Waltz never mentioned
Weaver’s Needle in his when describing the mine’s location. I was certainly not
the first to speculate that the famous Sombrero Mines lay outside the perimeter
of the Superstition Range, but to my knowledge no one had ever suggested Red
Mountain as the location in question. After all these years, the Lost Dutchman
Mine had been ‘found’ as far north as the Verde Mountains on occasion
(according to Kollenborn on his web site concerning the legend the Lost
Dutchman Mine has been ‘found’ no less than 137 times).
Immediately to the lower east of the main rise of Red Mountain is a
smaller peak whose outline fits the description of a Mexican peon’s hat. Such
hats, worn by Mexican natives were broad with pointed crowns. On the map this
peak is shown as the little umbrella-shaped outline just left of ‘S. Cima’.
Section of map showing S. Cima
44
With a hand-drawn enlargement of the Peralta-Ruth map in hand I began
to compare these outlines. The landmark labeled as ‘S. Cima’ on the map, with
the smaller umbrella-shaped peak beside it, was a very close match. But this
peak was not labeled as El Sombrero. That name was given to a peak opposite
‘S. Cima’ (left) on the other side of a canyon or ravine. To the east of Red
Mountain is the jagged dark gray mass of Arizona Dam Butte. There was
certainly a deep gap dividing them (as the map suggested), but there was not a
peak on that Butte which fit the drawing on the map. At first I was disheartened
until I remembered that most maps were drawn from the south looking north.
Perhaps, I surmised, the map would appear correct from the southern side of
Red Mountain. Returning to my car, I proceeded to check out my theory.
At the time of this writing the south side of Red Mountain is accessed by
turning right at the B’jai Shell gas station at the intersection of Beeline Highway
and Old Fort Road. Driving south, you will pass the Out of Africa Game Preserve
(which did not exist in 1988 and may not exist today as you read this). Upon
crossing the cattle guard, one comes across a sign announcing that you are
entering the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community. Below this notice are
outlined daily fee rates, rules and trespass information. Immediately afterward,
there is an A-frame shack that serves as a fee station before entering the
recreation area, which has been established along the banks of the Salt and
Verde rivers, respectively. The road narrows as it cuts into the base of Arizona
Dam Butte, and as it winds along the foot of the butte it angles westward passing
the SRP building then continues west for a short distance before the paved
surface abruptly ends onto a hard-pack dirt road for the duration of the drive (see
map in the appendix).
At approximately 300 feet beyond the end of the paved surface, and rising
just above the tree line on the left, there is a long, low outcrop of conglomerate
stone partially discolored by desert lichens of green, orange and yellow. There
are stumps of old power poles on its top at either end (locals call this outcrop ‘Six
Poles’). At this location, a pylon beside the road is marked with the number ‘7’
indicating the # 7 campground along the river (I refer to this as Pole #7
hereafter). Here is where I parked my car and stood looking at the south side of
Red Mountain for the first time. The air was cool and refreshing and the low
winter sun brushed the shades of pink and red hues to vivid life, which
complemented the pale-blue background of the winter sky. Throughout the stone
of the mountain were potholes and crevices, small caves and pockets cradling
boulders which had broken off from higher up. The mountain proudly displayed
its scars from a long, steady battle against the elements. Sheer cliffs cascade
abruptly to the brush and cactus-covered canyon floor that divides Red Mountain
from Arizona Dam Butte.
Panorama looking north from Pole # 7. This image was created from photos taken by author in 1988.
45
I was awe-struck by its bold beauty and monolithic structure. I sensed a
living force within the mountain, and within the land surrounding it. There was
history here that whispered on the breeze and radiated from the rock; history that
the mountain had witnessed through the eons of time. I would come to know
small portions of that history in the following months. As I held the Peralta-Ruth
map before me and compared the outlines, I immediately noticed that, while the
peak labeled ‘S. Cima’ had no match on this side of the mountain, the peak
labeled as ‘El Sombrero’ now did! I studied the outlines and then walked deeper
into the broad canyon to better position myself, figuring that the map had not
been drawn from where I was standing. (Note: In 1988 there were no notices of
trespass into this area as there are today, and hikers were often seen taking in
the land and nature. The new notices which more clearly identify the recreation
area from the land that is off limits may have resulted from the article I had
published in 1988. As I heard while back in Utah, the articles sent hundreds of
people rushing to Red Mountain to look for the mines).
The closer I hiked toward the mountain, the more closely the outlines
matched. Although the map called this peak ‘El Sombrero,’ I could see no
‘sombrero’ in the shape at all—just a sharp pinnacle tilted westward. Then again,
I could not see a ‘sombrero’ in the outline on the map, either---just a sharp peak
named El Sombrero. Still, because the outlines matched so precisely, I felt there
was something more to this than coincidence. As I wondered about this, an idea
came to mind that perhaps ‘S. Cima’ was intended to be seen while in the north,
while this section of the map was meant to be viewed from the south. It was an
odd suggestion but one which I would later find supporting evidence.
Hi-lighted section showing south side of Red Mountain and outline matching the drawing on the map. The peak labeled El
Sombrero is the back side of the little hat-shaped peak seen while in the north.
46
A few years after the death of Dr. Adolph Ruth in the Superstition
Mountains, a man appeared on the Dutchman scene by the name of John T.
Clymenson, better known to history and Dutchman enthusiasts as Barry Storm.
Storm was the author of several books on the Dutchman legend, one of which
was made into a motion picture in 1949 called ‘Lust for Gold’ and starred a young
Glenn Ford as Jacob Waltz. Many historians of the Dutchman lore find Storm’s
work to be highly questionable. I never agreed with his interpretation of Waltz’s
character as a gold hungry murderer, but the more I discovered at Red Mountain
the more I, too, began to question Storm. The landmarks and features that were
mentioned in his works are also found at Red Mountain, just as his version of the
legend claimed, and again, it was all too coincidental. In Lust for Gold the mine
was discovered only when the moonlight shined through a hole in a pinnacle and
lit up the entrance to the mine. Other accounts hold that the peak called El
Sombrero was also called ‘The Finger of God’. As I stood looking up at the
slender, tilted peak that my map called El Sombrero, I could plainly see the
shape and outline of a giant finger pointing heavenward that was complete with a
fingernail! This peak was, in fact, the backside of the little hat-shaped peak I had
seen while on the north side. The two were one and the same. Even though from
the south side the peak did not resemble a hat in the least, I immediately realized
why it had been labeled El Sombrero: from the north this peak does resemble a
Mexican’s hat. Both it and the outline of Red Mountain appear on the map. There
was a trick to the map that I was just beginning to understand.
El Sombrero/Finger of God
As the daylight began to fade, coyotes barked the commencement of their
nightly hunt. A breeze picked up and I reluctantly decided to return home until the
following day when I would have more time to study my new-found discovery.
Back on the highway, I couldn’t resist pulling off the road and looking at the
image of the Indian once more. The dwindling light had cast the mountain in
shadow, but its outline was still bold and clear against the twilight sky. Even
shadowed as it was, it remained impressive and grand as it towered above the
lesser hills and quiet communities around it. The little ‘hat’ on the left stood out
plainly as well. I savored the scene until the light was nearly gone. Certainly the
association of the “Finger of God” with the peak called El Sombrero was purely
romantic fiction. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder in light of this unusual
coincidence.
El Sombrero from north (left) and from south (right)
47
48
S. Cima
‘From / In the North’
It was several days before I found the time to continue my search for the
Sombrero Mines. Work had me busy and Trudy and I seldom found time for each
other between working different shifts and my quest for the mines. I had become
addicted to the mountain, having a fever not for gold but to solve a mystery. I was
certain the final answers were close at hand. I had begun to understand why the
map had been created in its peculiar style with ‘S. Cima’ (Red Mountain from the
north) drawn on the right-hand side of the map while ‘El Sombrero’ had been
labeled on the left. It was a theory that made sense, and one that would later pan
out. Long before our modern road systems were in place travelers followed trails
first cut into the land by migrating tribes following food supplies with the seasons.
Later, these same trails were used by explorers, prospectors, military, pioneers
and merchants. Both man and beast will find the easiest routes of travel and
usually adhere to them. Before long a permanent trail is established. Many of the
roads used today follow along these same ancient trails. Beeline Highway, for
example, follows closely the same trail established by soldiers and supply
wagons bringing goods from Phoenix/Mesa to Fort McDowell. But this same trail
was very likely established by the Spanish and Mexican miners and explorers a
hundred or more years before. It is well known that the Spanish and Mexicans
worked mines in the Verde and McDowell Mountains. The remains of their
camps, mines and artifacts have been found up and down the Verde River.
Coming from Mexico the main route of travel in those days was to follow the
source of water—in this case, the Salt and Verde rivers.
While following the Salt River to its confluence with the Verde River, then
turning north, would have been the choice of travel for those miners mining in the
northern mountains, this route was not negotiable. The thick growth of flora made
passage difficult and the steep hills as did the sheer slope of Arizona Dam Butte
as it extended into the river. The area was also a flood zone, which left many
deep holes and debris in its wake. The most logical choice then was to reach the
Verde River, and the mines in that area, by skirting to the north of Red Mountain
and rejoining the Verde River again near where Beeline Highway intersects old
Fort Road. Further, anyone who drives through this area along the highway can
see that this route is more flat and open. Traveling would have been easier on
the animals and provide a broader range of visibility in case of ambush by
natives. With this trail established, it would have been a common route taken by
the Peralta miners, also.
The Peralta-Ruth map was drawn, then, leading the miners first to the
north of Red Mountain along the established trail, rather than to the south. Only
in passing Red Mountain on the north, and only from one narrow vantage, does
the mountain take on the shape shown on the map as ‘S. Cima’. Most maps are
drawn facing north. Yet the image on the map, which fits Red Mountain, is seen
only looking south. What instruction or clue would have told the miners to watch
the south, rather than the north, for this first landmark?
49
Most Dutchman hunters have assumed that ‘S.’ in ‘S. Cima’ was the
abbreviation for ‘Sur’, meaning ‘South’ in Spanish, therefore making the landmark
read as ‘South Summit’. This made absolutely no sense to me. Even if there had
been a peak to the south of Red Mountain, the map would not have shown it
since it was drawn looking north (as is the common custom). A ‘south summit’
would appear behind the creator of the map and could not be incorporated easily
onto a ‘perfil mapa’, or ‘outline map.’ By now it was apparent to me that Weaver’s
Needle was not the peak referred to on the map.
Neither did I understand why ‘Sur’ would have been abbreviated at all.
The map’s creator had been quite careful to document details and had written all
other words out completely. Why, then, abbreviate a word that, in Spanish, only
had three total letters to begin with? The answer was found one evening while I
was searching through a Latin dictionary for clues to this puzzle.
The word was Septentrional!
‘Septentrional’ means, ‘in the north’, ‘northern’, or ‘from the north’, ‘seen in
the north.’ Used as it is on the map, it makes the entire mystery clear. Red
Mountain was not a tall picacho (peak), but rather a tall, broad butte from every
angle except one. It does, indeed, have a summit in this respect and would not
have been labeled as a picacho. The miners who were trusted with the map
would know the abbreviation meant ‘Septentrional’ and know, too, they were
looking at a landmark, which was to be seen while ‘in the north’ of the mines.
Following the main trail across the Salt River toward the Verde River and
50
McDowell Mountains, they would have come to a brief point when the ‘summit’ of
Red Mountain took on the shape shown on the map. Once this landmark was
located, miners who were heading into that area to work the mines would travel
up and over the narrow saddle and into the canyon. Once there, they could then
look north and locate the remaining landmarks as shown on the map and thus
the mines.
However, even when on the correct side of the mountain, they would have
to maneuver into various positions in order for next the landmarks to take on the
shape as they appeared on the map. By doing this, each landmark would lead to
the next, and the next, until the mines were found—or, in the case of this
particular map, until the tunnel was found. As I later learned, you cannot match
one landmark to the map without the next landmark being visible from the last
point of reference.
Once I realized this, I also realized that this map was a work of strategy
and art, much more than a simple outline of rock formations in the desert. The
map’s creator, perhaps Miguel Peralta, was as clever as he was a good miner.
This was a major turning point in locating the mines as well as discovering yet
another landmark of the map that was not what historians and treasure hunters
believed it was. Instead, it was exactly what the map claimed it to be!
Red Mountain as seen from the north along the old Spanish trail matches the right side of map labeled S. Cima. This was
the first landmark the miners looked for. Once this landmark, the peak and El Sombrero were located, the miners would
turn south and ride over the saddle into the mines. Here, S. Cima means ‘Septentrional Cima’ or “Summit as seen from/in
the north.”
Section of map showing Es Carbadia perched upon a ridge
51
Es Carbadia
(ESCARDADIA)
Early on in my quest, I had come to the conclusion that if the landmarks
were real and did exist, they would not be scattered across a rugged mountain
wilderness, nor whose images bore only a vague similarity to the map. On the
contrary, they would be grouped in one location as the map suggested and
match well enough that anyone in the Peralta family—and after them—could
recognize those landmarks clearly if they knew the area in which to look. Further,
the detail of the drawings on the Peralta-Ruth map seemed precise enough that,
in my opinion, the map’s creator had spent time carefully documenting the
landmarks to the best of his artistic ability to ensure the location could be found
again. Therefore, I could assume that what the map showed was what I was
looking for.
One of the more unique landmarks on the map is a formation whose
general shape is that of a head facing the west (left profile). On the map this
formation is labeled as ESCARDADIA. This word was a mystery to me for some
time, for nowhere in the Spanish/Mexican language does such a word appear,
nor in old Latin. In the Dutchman lore one of the landmarks to locate was a rock
formation in the shape of a head, which was very near to the mine, and because
the outline on the map appeared to be a rough outline of a head I change the
spelling of the word ESCARDADIA to ESCARBADIA, which, in Spanish, loosely
translates to ‘Is a Head’. Simply changing the ‘D’ to a ‘B’ caused the map to read
more clearly. I then knew I was looking for an outcrop whose general shape ‘Is a
Head’, and it is located it should resemble the same outline as shown on the
map.
Es Carbadia was drawn on the map with prominence, suggesting that its
position was important in locating mines or tunnel. On the map, this landmark
appears to sit upon a steep, sloping ridge beside S. Cima. Again, I believed that
if it existed it would be a close match to the one on the map, given the creator’s
artistic talents.
Es Carbadia (Is a Head) is positioned high on a ridge opposite.
El Sombrero in conjunction with the map
52
This landmark was not difficult to find. In fact, it is possibly among the first
formations one is drawn to when looking up into the broad canyon from Pole #7.
Made of red conglomerate stone, it is positioned directly east and across the
canyon from El Sombrero, and perched upon the western ridge Arizona Dam
Butte. The outline or profile of this outcrop closely matched Es Carbadia shown
on the map. In conjunction with its placement on the map, it is directly east and
below the southern side of ‘El Sombrero’ as the map suggests. Locating this
landmark, and having it positioned where it should be, was an important moment
in regard to authenticating the map and finding the mines. I now had confidence
that I was on the right trail, for Red Mountain now boasted several of the
landmarks called for on the map with uncanny coincidence—‘S. Cima’, ‘El
Sombrero’ (the ‘Finger of God’), and now ‘Es Carbadia.’ With the latter landmark
located, I believed, the rest should fall into place. Again on the map, and located
directly beneath Es Carbadia, is marked the location of a tunnel. I believed this
tunnel to be the ‘unfinished tunnel’ as mentioned in some versions the legend.
This tunnel was presumably started by Peralta to reach the vein of ore from
below, but it was abandoned soon after the project was started. I felt exhilaration
as I believed I would soon find that tunnel, and the rich Dutchman mine just
above it on the ridge, labeled as ‘Hoyo’, meaning hole. This hole is believed to be
a funnel-shaped pit mine from which Waltz dug his gold.
Many versions of the legend claim that this pit mine had been filled in by
the Indians after the Peralta massacre. However, it is also the same mine,
according to Julia Thomas, that Waltz had worked, and therefore must have
been open to some degree. Now that Es Carbadia had been located, I assumed
it would be a simple task to locate the tunnel and then, the pit mine. I would
simply climb up to the base of Es Carbadia, locate the tunnel, and then continue
up until I found the rich mine!
Surveying the terrain from Pole #7, the hike to the base of Es Carbadia did
not appear to be too difficult; certainly it was one that a bent man of eighty could
make with little difficulty. The pit mine above it could be accessed by climbing up
through a fairly steep ravine into the upper reaches of Arizona Dam Butte’s
western end. Early one afternoon, I strapped on my canteen, looped my camera
over my neck and began the trek into the canyon to find the Lost Dutchman
Mine. Arrogantly, I chuckled to myself at how simple it had been to find the
legendary mine of Jacob Waltz. The closer I came to the ravine, though, the
more difficult the hike became. The thorny brush and cholla cactus became
dense, and large boulders blocked one direction after another, or began to slip
and roll whenever stepped upon. To complicate matters, I had spooked several
javalina, which circled nervously around me intent on remaining in their territory.
Standing at the foot of the butte, I saw that the ravine was nearly vertical. While
Es Carbadia mused indifferently at my efforts from its precarious perch high
above my head, my confidence began to falter. I had not come prepared for
anything more than a casual day-hike, but as I was learning it would require more
planning.
53
This photo, taken from the mine on a rainy day, shows the stark image of the figure
outlined on the Peralta Ruth Map. The maps creator likely drew the image on the
map from this location; only when standing at the mine does the image appear
correctly, which led the author to decipher the map’s unique code for locating the
tunnel.
My father, who has lived the
most part of his life in the Arizona
desert, once told me that everything in
the desert bites, stings, gives you rash
or kills you. It’s an unforgiving land
that requires a particular caliber of
person to endure and appreciate—a
caliber of person I had not yet
become.
By the time I arrived back to the
comfort and safety of my car at Pole
#7, I was scarred from head to toe
with scratches and cuts. Several
yellow bulbs of cholla cactus had
fastened themselves to various places
of my body for a free ride to the flats
where I painfully pried them from my
flesh. My white sweatshirt was spotted
with blood and my skin itched all over.
Cholla cactus common to Arizona
Stealthily, I crawled back into my car
and limped home to where I knew
Trudy would be waiting to pamper her macho treasure hunter, marveling over my
day’s adventures while I explained between groans how I was only a few yards
from the great Sombrero Mine when suddenly......
54
Trails and Markers
Along the Way
Much to Trudy’s dismay, our living room had become my base camp and
the decor of the bedroom wall had become encased in a layer of maps and
photographs. Somewhere beneath it all were family photos and pictures she had
so carefully hung when we first moved in. For a Libra woman who liked balance
and pretty things, this was stressful to say the least, but for her benefit I did try to
arrange the menagerie into some kind of order and color scheme. In hindsight, I
don’t think she was a bit impressed. Immediately after work each morning,
sometimes without first coming home, I would visit either the mountain or one of
the many sources for information on the legend. More and more, Trudy and I saw
less of each other, and when we were together the only topic of conversation
revolved around the mountain. I was also too involved in my personal world to
notice the increasing stress chiseling at her face. Only during the years afterward
did I come to learn how my obsession for the Sombrero Mines had shut both she,
and my responsibilities to her and the household, out of my mind completely. She
had witnessed the danger signs of ‘gold fever’ years before I would realize I had
even been affected by it.
I came to frequent a little treasure-hunting supply shop in Tempe. The
folks who ran the little shop were good people and I came to trust their advice
and tips on locating old mines. Looking back now, I don’t think they took my
discoveries very seriously. I was, like they had probably been, just another
Dutchman hunter who believed he could find the famous mine where others had
failed. The shop owner was a long-time treasure hunter with successful ventures
in recovering lost caches. In conversations, he explained that the Spanish always
left markers of piled stones or cut an arm from a saguaro cactus to point the way
to and from mines. It was not uncommon for them to cut a saguaro in half or
otherwise mark it in a way that stood out from the rest to show the mine was
near. Until then, I had not thought to look for such signs and, deciding to
abandon the ravine for a while, I began, instead, to focus my attention on locating
the old trails and markers and maybe a camp. If the Spanish had been there,
they would have left some record behind, in spite of the Apache efforts to
conceal or obliterate any trace of them after the battle.
Often during this time I would hike up to the base of Red Mountain and sit
studying the land. When I had trained my eyes to see the subtle scars and
differences in the terrain, I was delighted by what I found. There were dim trails
etched into the side of the Arizona Dam butte and saguaro cacti whose limbs had
indeed been severed here or there a long time ago.
55
Trail marker?
While it is not uncommon for the ‘arms’ of these giant cactus to break off naturally, the arms were also cut by
miners to point the way to and from the mines. The wound on this cactus is smooth and even suggesting it had indeed
been cut off.
Near the narrow saddle of land that connected Red Mountain and Arizona
Dam Butte, I came across a pile of boulders lying on the edge of a dry gully.
Even from first glance, I knew this to be the sign of prospecting for placer gold.
The miners would remove the over-burden of rock and dirt to reach the layer of
sediment containing the tiny flecks of yellow metal where it had settled after rains
washed down the slope. Further, the bed of the gully was streaked with black
sand, called magnetite, which is commonly found in gold-bearing regions.
Rock and over- burden from placer works
56
I noticed that this gully was fed by the same steep ravine that ran beside
Es Carbadia, which I had attempted to climb earlier that month. It was also high
in that ravine that I believed the pit mine (Hoyo) to be located. The discovery of
the placer works seemed to confirm my theory: the Spanish prospectors had
traced the placer deposits up the gully into the ravine, then to the source high on
Arizona Dam Butte. That source, I was certain, was the Dutchman Mine.
More and more, I became convinced that Red Mountain was the location
referred to on the map. The landmarks matched with certain clarity, and as I
stood gazing at the land around me, I was humbled to think that it was here, not
the Superstitions, that many of the legendary events had likely taken place so
many long years ago. Here is where the miners had violated a sacred mountain,
which forced the Apache to retaliate against them with such vengeance, and it
was likely here that many had died. Below me the Salt and Verde Rivers merged
together in peaceful splendor, winding among the boulders and trees. I imagined
what this land must have looked like 150 years ago before the campgrounds and
roads were established, before the Salt River Project dammed the natural flow of
the river to feed the farms and thriving metropolis some 30 and more miles away,
back before the death of Jacob Waltz when the land was still raw and untamed
and few travelers, save for soldiers and prospectors, ever ventured this far from
Phoenix. The river flats would have been dense with trees and brush, far more
than today. The broad canyon between Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte
would have been fairly isolated, having the river and trees on the south and
mountains to the north, west and east. With its fresh water, flora and fauna, and
caves for shelter, it would have been an ideal sanctuary while working the mines.
It could have been easily guarded from intruders also, having only one effective
entrance through the narrow saddle on the north end between Red Mountain and
Arizona Dam Butte.
Narrow saddle between Red mountain (Left) and Arizona Dam Butte (Right). The rocky outcrop just right of the saddle
between Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte appears to be shown on the Peralta-Ruth Map.
57
I believed that Peralta, or perhaps miners before him, had originally
entered into this canyon from the north over the ‘saddle’ between Red Mountain
and Arizona Dam Butte. The reason is because two main rivers converge at Red
Mountain on the east and south. Entering the area from the south with wagons
and supplies would be difficult. Entering from the north would explain why Peralta
saw the hat-shaped peak for which he, or perhaps his forefathers, had named
the mines. From the south, it appears more as a giant ‘finger’ and not as a
‘sombrero’, as it does from the north.
The next day, I hiked the perimeter of the mountain while surveying the
terrain. Indeed, it would have been all but impossible to enter the canyon with
horse or wagons from any direction except the north until roads had been cut
through the thick vegetation. Not even the military would have wasted time
cutting a trail through an area that was likely to be flooded each year, anyway,
and most of the traveling would have to have been in the river itself. Both the
steep slope of Red Mountain on the south, and Arizona Dam Butte on the east,
descended into the rivers, effectively blocking off any entrance to the mines by
land. After I realized the miners would have entered from the north, I reasoned
that if the miners did enter from the north there should be markers in the desert
hills between Red Mountain and the Beeline Highway to point the way to the
mines. Early one Saturday morning, I decided to find out.
Standing in the saddle and looking north gives one a grand view of the
area all the way to Fort McDowell and the McDowell Mountains. The famous
man-made geyser located at Fountain Hills gushed skyward in the distance near
Shea Blvd. Standing there, I realized that placing even one sentry at this location
would have been enough to detect Apache and other marauders approaching
hours before they arrived. Even if marauders did manage to make it to the saddle
from the north, guarding this canyon would have been fairly easy from the high
ridges and cliffs. On the other hand, though, if the Apache had stormed the
miners en masse and had positioned warriors high on the ridges first, killing the
miners would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, as the canyon would have
boxed them in completely. A vigilant watch would be necessary.
At the base of Red Mountain in the saddle is found a massive rock, which
leans against the sheer vertical wall of the mount. It appears to have once broken
off from higher up on the mountain. Leaning there as it does, it forms a gap
several feet wide between it and the wall of the cliff. Many melon-size rocks and
two weathered old timbers lie among the brush just outside this natural cave. The
rocks could have fallen from the cliffs above but the weathered old timbers had
been brought in by someone a long time ago. The accumulation of the rocks in
this one area, all about the same size, and lying among the timbers, led me to
believe that there had been a small shelter built inside this cave. Naturally, I
thought of Jacob Waltz and the cave he presumably stayed in while at the mine.
Looking across the canyon from the little cave, I found that the ravine and
Es Carbadia were clearly in view. It was up in that ravine that I eventually
expected to find the pit mine. While I wanted to believe this cave to be the one
referred to in the Dutchman legend, it was just too small. Rather, I surmised that
if it had anything to with the mines and the Spanish, it a stone shelter had been
built as a quarters for the sentry on watch, or for some other purpose. An
excavation of the floor of this cave may reveal such evidence.
58
Two old weathered beams lying among stones below cave
Beside the cave, imbedded in the wall of the cliff, is a large boulder whose
image appears in the likeness of a face of an Indian staring mournfully across the
canyon to the ravine. A feather hangs upon his cheek and his expression is one
of torment, as if he had been forced to watch the desecration of his sacred land,
then later, the slaughter of countless lives. I wondered if this image of a ‘face’ or
‘head’ was one of those mentioned in the Dutchman legends. I noted that from
this location Es Carbadia appeared not as a head, but now as a giant broken
heart having a split down the center. If the mine was in that ravine near the ridge
I would likely also find that the afternoon sun shines through the split and into the
entrance.
Cave (behind bushes on the left) and old, weathered wood beams lying just 20 feet to
left of face. Inset: Same rock outlined for clarity.
Viewed from the ‘saddle’ Es Carbadia appears as a giant broken heart. Beneath it is the remains of an old trail
winding its way toward the mine. The legend claims that the afternoon sun would shine through a split or hole in
a rock and into the mine entrance. This heart could also figure into the Peralta Tablets, if they are not forgeries.
59
60
I had started the hike early that morning to assure ample time to return
to my car before nightfall. I had no idea which direction to travel from the saddle
but chose the wider gully, assuming the miners would have done the same since
they likely pulled carrettas (small wagons) full of supplies. This choice paid off. I
had not traveled long before finding a saguaro cactus whose arms had been
severed. The hard gray scar, which had healed over the wound, told that it had
been cut long ago. Hiking here alone beneath the ominous rise of Red Mountain
gives one a sense being in another time. Nothing on this side of the mountain
has been disturbed and even the animals have no fear of you, only cautious
curiosity. Continuing on, I came to a location where the gully forked in several
directions. Any of these could have been the route taken by the miners. I decided
to climb to the top of a small knoll and look around. Through binoculars, I
carefully scanned the land for more marked cactus. Panning my focus to the
east, I saw not a cactus but the dim tailings of a mine spilling down the side of a
hill in the distance. This was the first sign of actual mining I had located in the
Red Mountain area and it gave a tremendous boost to my theory. I was excited
to say the least, but I was not inclined to hike to the distance to investigate at the
time. It was almost a half-mile away, which in the desert—over hills and gullies—
can take quite a while to cover. Also, I did not want to lose the trail I was on. I
memorized the location and took a photograph of the mine before continuing
north. I had not traveled but five minutes, staying on the ridges for a better view,
when I came upon a circle of stones on another low knoll. Looking to the east I
could no longer see the tailings of the mine, as it was now blocked from view by
one of the many hills, but I surmised this ring of stones may have once been a
turning point in the trail to direct miners to that mine location.
The stones were nearly covered over and barely visible. At least I was still
on track. (Later on, I located other circles of stones, one in a flat area. These
were not as buried as those on the hill, which may or may not have been part of
the same line of trail markers).
Trail Markers?
61
These circles of stones are found along the trail
I had followed north out of Red Mountain.
By now it was afternoon. The water I brought in my small canteen was
nearly gone, but the air was cool and made little demand on the body’s
resources. I had not been traveling fast, either, but rather maintaining a cautious
pace to avoid overlooking any signs of the early travelers. Along the way, I
spotted several arrowheads and one oblong stone axe head made of black
basalt. The axe head was from the Hohokum era, I knew from previous research
of native inhabitants, but the arrowheads were of a later period and I couldn’t
help but imagine that perhaps these had been used in the battle with the miners.
Removal of any artifacts from Reservation lands is strictly prohibited. I did
photograph the axe head but over the ten years since then the photo has
become lost.
By about 4:00 p.m., I was close enough to the highway to hear the
passing of cars. Here I found another saguaro cactus whose arm bore the
trademark signature of passing miners. Again, it was an old wound. One arm was
cut in the direction of the McDowell Mountains while another pointed toward
Arizona Dam Butte; from the direction I had just traveled. Beside it was a
saguaro that had been cut in half and had two new arms growing from the
wound. However, this particular one could have been caused by nature and not
by Spanish miners. On horse, the journey could be made in less than a couple
hours, but it had taken me all day by foot. But I had not been in a hurry, either. I
knew, too, that I would not make it back to my car, or even to the saddle, by
nightfall. I decided to continue to the highway and hitch a ride with a motorist at
least as far as to the entrance to the recreation area. When I reached the
highway, I looked back at the majestic mount and the land I had just crossed.
The image of the ‘Indian’ with the little hat-shaped peak beside it was bold. It was
then I realized where I had come out: The trail had led me to the exact location
where I had parked my car when I first seen this tall image of the Indian back in
January! And, only from this location is the image of the Indian visible. As I
walked along the road with my thumb in the air awaiting a trusting motorist to
give me a lift, I realized I had confirmed another theory: The map had been
drawn in such a fashion as to lead the miners to the location where the mountain
took on the image as it appeared on the map. Turning south, they would have
headed toward the mountain, following the markers that pointed the easiest route
until they descended into the area of the mines on the south side of Red
Mountain.
62
Red Mountain as it appeared when author had reached Beeline Highway after following what he
believed to be the old mining trail. The trail was marked by cut cacti and circles of stones.
Standing at the cave and ‘face rock’ at the base of Red Mountain near the ‘saddle’ and looking eastward across the gorge
to Arizona Dam Butte, the remains of old trails can still be seen cut into the mountain. Es Carbadia from this angle looks
like a ‘broken heart’. The author believes the real Dutchman Mine exists on the ridge above the ravine and beyond the Es
Carbadia. Some legends claim the afternoon sun would shine through the split or hole in the rock and onto the entrance of
the mine.
63
The MINE,
A Fox and a Near-Fatal Fall.
Early one morning in the first week of April, I arrived at my usual parking
place with high hopes of locating the mines, now that I understood how the map
was drawn. The days were getting hotter but temperatures were still mild enough
for hiking short distances. I decided to re-trace the exact steps of the map by first
positioning myself where the outline of ‘El Sombrero’ most closely matched the
map (pretending I had already come into the canyon from the north). By walking
several hundred feet west from Pole #7, then north about the same distance, I
could match the image to the outline on the map. Once there, I surveyed the land
and figured ‘Es Carbadia’ would have been the next target. I began hiking due
east across the canyon toward large red conglomerate outcrops jutting from the
base of Arizona Dam Butte.
One puzzle appearing on the map is a string of what appear to be
‘coordinates’ written vertically down the left-hand side. These symbols have
challenged treasure hunters in the past and it has been debated whether these
were originally part of the map, or instead, written there by Adolph Ruth. Because
of the way the map had been created, I was betting this enigma was part of the
original instructions to locating the mines or tunnel, although I never actually
used those directions to prove it one way or another.
Directions?
Walking eastward from Red Mountain, I observed that Es Carbadia appeared to
match the map most closely from a position just west of the red outcrops leaning
against the base of Arizona Dam Butte. The steep rocky slope above them could
hide any number of tunnels, but the terrain made it impossible to see them. At
this point, I was still determined that the tunnel on the map was located just
64
beneath Es Carbadia, in the ravine I had attempted to climb earlier that year, and
on this day I would try to climb it again.
I am a believer in both synchronicity (meaningful coincidence) and in
worlds existing just beyond our normal perception—in this case, a spirit world.
For no matter how many times I attempted to climb that ravine, something always
turned me back, whether it was a strong wind which seemed to blow
unexpectedly from nowhere, animals and snakes, or rocks rolling down the ridge
as if intended at to strike me. On some occasions, I thought I heard chanting and
voices in the wind, as well as an owl hoot that seemed to come from over and
above my left shoulder. I had been decently spooked at Red Mountain on more
than a few occasions. This day would be no different. After my attempts to hike
up the ravine were again defeated, I hiked back to a clearing and sat on a large
rock to review my options. I noticed from this angle that Es Carbadia, being so
close, lost its shape as shown on the map. I was beginning to get frustrated.
While I scanning the rocky slope with my binoculars, I heard movement in the
brush. A moment later a small silver-gray fox wandered out not more than twenty
feet away ahead of me. For a while we just stared at each other—I, pleased by
the appearance of a rare sight this time of day, and he, probably snickering at
another wanna-be Dutchman hunter. A bit later, he wandered off, but not two
minutes had passed before he returned and again stood in the same location
looking at me. I was beginning to think he was hungry, perhaps sizing me up
against his appetite, when again he turned and wandered into the brush. A
moment later he reappeared. At this point I was paying close attention. It was my
imagination, I’m sure, but I could almost swear that little fox was trying to tell me
something, like perhaps, to follow? With a reluctant sigh (and strains of ‘Lassie
Come Home’ echoing in the canyons of my imagination), I thought to myself,
‘What the hell’, and began to follow the fox. He didn’t seem afraid of me in the
least, but trotted in and out of the brush just a few yards ahead of me. He was
leading me (or rather I believed he was) back toward the large red outcrops
against Arizona Dam Butte (back to where the image of ‘Es Carbadia’ most
closely resembles the image on the map). I was just about one hundred fifty feet
from the outcrops when the fox disappeared. I stopped to watch for him, then,
figuring he must have found his den, I kept walking. I only took four steps when
suddenly my foot found nothing but air to stand on, and in a flash that seemed to
last an eternity, I realized I had just walked off into a deep, dark hole!
There are certain tricks the brain can play when you’re suddenly faced
with your demise. One of its more favored tricks, beside giving a quick summery
of your entire life—mostly the bad points—is to make everything go in slow
motion, as if savoring the last few moments of life for as long as possible (or
possibly to insure that I understood with no question what killed me in this life!). I
had crossed the point of no return and was going into the hole, but this
phenomenon of time-slowed-way-down gave me ample time, first to realize I was
going to die; second, to wonder how much it would hurt; and lastly, to mumble
Dr. Adolph Ruth’s immortal words from the Anza-Borrego experience: “I found it!”
A moment later my body impacted with solid ground.
All too often, hikers and treasure hunters die or are critically injured by just
such an accident. The land around old mining areas can be riddled with ancient
air vents and shafts. Usually they are hundreds of feet deep. On this day, I was
65
extremely fortunate. The angle in which I landed left me staring at three vertical
walls of rock in a space about four feet wide. The floor was smooth dirt and
seemed, even at that moment, unnatural, as if it had been purposely filled in.
Above me I could see the opening and judged it to be about twelve feet high. On
one wall was a vein of what appeared to be decomposed granite—obviously
what the miners had been interested in. It occurred to me while lying there in the
bottom of that hole that I had unwarily discovered the answer to why so many
Dutchman Hunters disappeared through the years—a silver-gray fox! No doubt,
that same fox (possibly the old Dutchman reincarnated) had led many a treasure
hunter into oblivion in much the same fashion, but I was determined not to let him
win this time! I mentally checked for broken bones and moved slowly while
awaiting an announcement through excruciating pain that I would not be getting
out any time soon. But, except for few bruises, I was fine. Fine, and damn lucky!
The next horror to invade in my consciousness was that I may have fallen into a
rattlesnake den. During my hikes, I had passed several of the creatures and
though I heard no familiar sounds in this hole, I was careful not to move too fast.
Rattlesnakes don’t always have rattles, nor use them. Stealthily I raised myself to
my knees, then my feet. There was uneasiness within me about this hole and for
more than just the obvious dangers at hand. Later that week, after I had taken
some Polaroid photos, I believed I knew why—strange spectral images appeared
on the Polaroid film!
Strange luminous glows appear on the film only at this location near the crevice.
Note the upright pipe against the back of the wall in the left photo (dark vertical line) and the buried pipe
in the right photo beneath the yellow streak and arrow.
66
Crevice of a prospect shaft that author fell into
from above while following a gray fox.
I was surprised to see that this mine was really a long, deep trench almost
perfectly cut on all sides and having an opening into the gully twenty feet away. It
was cut in an east-west direction and again, the dirt floor was smooth and level
as if it had been filled in at one time. Once outside this ‘mine,’ I saw that it was
located at the end of the gully, which snaked its way back to the Salt River. In
fact, this was the deepest part of the gully, which ended abruptly at a steep
‘staircase’ of conglomerate stone, and was also part of the same drainage in
which the placer works had been found earlier.
Looking to the southeast along the gully, I observed that the huge red
outcrops of stone at the base of Arizona Dam Butte were only about 100-200 feet
away. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a rather large ‘window’ in one of
theses outcrop, which I would later learn could only be seen clearly from this
mine location alone. Beyond the outcrop and the window, Four Peaks Mountain
rose in the distance. Looking to the north beyond the steep staircase of rock, the
only thing one can see is the odd-shape of ‘Es Carbadia’ high above on the near© 1997-2000 John Victor Ramses
67
vertical ridge. From the location of the mine, it was almost an exact match to the
drawing on the map. This landmark, along with the red outcrop with the ‘window,’
is the most significant objects seen from this boxed-in end of the gully. The only
way out was to hike the gully back to the flats where it passed by Six Poles.
Anxious to get away from the area and regroup my strength, I left further
exploration of the mine for another day. It was during the next several days
studying the map that I realized this long ‘mine’ extending westerly from the
gully’s end appeared to be drawn on the map, but only on the one which
appeared in Swanson’s book. Other facsimiles of the same map do not seem to
show as much attention to detail.
Photograph of ‘window’ through the outcrop at the base of Arizona Dam Butte. Photo was taken standing directly above
the mine that the author had fallen into. The hole can only be seen from the mine location. Four Peaks Mountain is the
background. Some versions of the legend claim the it was the morning sun, not afternoon sun that would shine through a
hole in a rock and into the mine. From the ‘Crevice’ mine one can clearly see the hole in this rock and the morning sun
rising over Four Peaks would shine into the ‘Crevice’ mine.
Standing in the wash bed next to the mine entrance, Es Carbadia looms indifferently above.
Trudy is standing beside the camera tripod in the lower portion of the photo.
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I experienced many strange events at Red Mountain during the course of
the research and discoveries, as well as, again in 1996 when I returned. Not
least of which are events surrounding the very real possibility that the mines are
indeed cursed. These experiences and many more will be recounted in a
following work, Return to Red Mountain: A Forgotten History of a Sacred Place,
which provides more depth into the history and lore of the mountain than can be
presented in this book.
The strange crevice shaped mine is marked on the map in conjunction
with its real location at Red Mountain: at the end of a wash bed beneath Es Carbadia.
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AGUA
Most Dutchman hunters have assumed the word ‘Agua’, meaning ‘water’
in Spanish, represents a well or spring. On the map ‘Agua’ is positioned above a
long, horizontal line that bisects the center of the map. This line is either the Salt
River, or more likely, because it was simply labeled ‘Agua,’it was once a ditch
that was dug parallel to the river to carry water for the milling and smelting
operations. Another of the three maps Ruth acquired, which is one called the
‘Peralta Locator Map’, shows both the Salado River as well as another line of
water above it labeled ‘Agua’. On the Peralta-Ruth map only the ‘Agua’ is shown.
The river had been omitted. It was not uncommon to dig a ditch to bring water in
for processing the ore. If this ditch did exist at Red Mountain, both it, and the
arrastras and smelters along the bank, have long since been washed away by
the annual flooding of the Salt River so close to its confluence with the Verde
River. The original ditch would likely have followed a course close to where the
dirt access road is presently located.
The dotted trail that bisects this line and appears to lead into the canyon
on the Peralta-Ruth map is only in part a trail. Once above the line labeled
‘Agua,’ this trail simply follows the natural course of the gully until it ends. It is at
the end of this trail on the map that there appears to be a dark, thick line
extending west (left) from the gully at its end. This thick line no doubt represents
the same mine I had fallen into, which is carved into the side of the gully. This
mine, while not appearing to have been worked at any great length, must have
been important enough to the map’s creator to note it on the map.
Peralta Locator Map. It was included with the documents given to Erwin Ruth by Gonzales. This map shows both the
‘river’ and another line above it simply labeled as ‘Agua’. The author believes that the line labeled ‘Agua’ on both the
Peralta-Ruth map and the above Locator map represents a ditch that was dug to bring water to the smelters which he
believes were erected near Six Poles outcrop along the Salt River. (Map: Superstition Mountain Historical Society)
70
HOYO
I spent the night after I fell into the mine in restless anticipation of locating
the ‘Big One.’ There was no doubt left in my mind that Red Mountain was indeed
the location the Peralta-Ruth map referred to after all these years. Before falling
asleep that night, I quietly thanked God that I had survived the fall. Although I as
convinced the little fox was out to get me, I reluctantly thanked him, too, for
showing me the location of that mine. It was a critical turning point in locating the
tunnel, as I was to learn. I drifted off that night counting my blessings, reviewing
the landmarks in my head. A few days later found me back at the mountain. I
brought with me a Polaroid camera instead of my SLR. I wanted to get some
photos that I could show Trudy without having to wait for development (I think I
was feeling the need to justify the maps and documents entombing our bedroom
wall). Naturally, the first place I went was to the mine. I had time to scout around
a bit this day and took advantage of it. The air in the gully at the mine location
was hot and stagnant and tainted with the scent of animal urine. I learned there
was a javalina den close-by, but not until I was literally chased out of a wash bed
by them a few weeks later.
On this day, I found an artifact jutting from the side of the gully a few feet
away from the mine. It appeared to be a pipe about two inches wide and flared
on the end as if it had been hammered. It seemed to be buried fairly deep by soil
and rock that had washed down the slope over the years. After taking a few
photos of the artifact and the mine, I hiked back down the gully to explore the red
outcrops. The ‘window’ in the rock intrigued me, and also, I hoped to find a name
or date chiseled into the stone somewhere, but there were none that I could see.
The stone itself is very soft. If there had been writing on it at one time, it has long
since eroded away. Before leaving, I photographed the ‘window’ looking toward
the mine. The opening was quite large and I began to think about the legends,
particularly concerning a ‘window’ in a rock formation in which the sun or moon
would shine through and into the mine. Of course, I knew well that this part of the
legend had been fabricated by romantic writers like Storm for motion pictures.
But still, I couldn’t help but ponder over the many uncanny coincidences between
these landmarks at Red Mountain and those of the legend and on the map.
Perhaps there was more truth in the old tales than was believed. It was
later that evening while I was showing Trudy the new pictures of the mine and
outcrops that she picked up the photo I had taken of the ‘window.’ She studied it
for a moment, then glanced at the map and back to the photo.
“There’s your Hoyo”, she said, referring to the window in the rock. I
chuckled at the joke. But she was not joking.
“Seriously,” she said, “I mean this whole rock with the window in it looks
just like the outline on the map. Don’t you think?”
I took the photo and placed it below the map. A tingle stirred my stomach
as I realized what she had discovered. From where I had taken the photo, the
outline of the entire rock outcrop was almost an exact duplicate of the outline of
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the supposed ‘ridge’ shown the map, on which Es Carbadia was positioned, and
also on which ‘Hoyo’ (the hole) had been drawn. It was, like everything else at
the mountain, too close a match for coincidence. I hurried through the stack of
photos I had until I came to one which showed that same outcrop with Es
Carbadia above it in the background. Here, at this position only, both Es
Carbadia and the outline of the red outcrop matched the map. The ‘Hoyo’ or
‘hole’ was not a pit mine high on the ridge above Es Carbadia after all. It was
simply what the map claimed it to be: a hole! It has always been curious to me
why this ‘hole,’ if representing a pit mine, was not labeled as ‘Mina’ (mine). Now I
understood why. It was never a mine at all, but rather a large ‘hole,’ as the map
said, cut through the outcrop by the elements of time. In fact, no mines are
mentioned on this map at all. But if this ‘hole’ was not the pit mine, then why was
it so important to include it on the map with such careful detail? Indeed, why was
the entire map so carefully planned and arranged if it was not to find the mines?
Why would the map’s creator so carefully draw the outline of the outcrop in
conjunction with Es Carbadia positioned on its crest? It was drawn as if to attract
someone directly to that outcrop for some purpose.
As I studied the map, I realized that there was only one answer: The entire
map was created to locate not mines, but instead, the Tunnel! The tunnel was
not located in the ravine beneath Es Carbadia as I had originally thought.
According to the new information Trudy had insightfully provided, the tunnel
shown on the map should be located directly west and below the person standing
in the spot where Es Carbadia appears to rest on the crest of the outcrop—in
other words, just west and below the point I stood when I photographed the hole
and outcrop.
I didn’t sleep that night. I hungered to find that tunnel and see what was in
it that had been so important as to create such a well-planned map. Could it be
the storehouse? Was it the ‘unfinished tunnel’ of Peralta lore? Is it where the
miners stored their supplies before returning to Mexico for the season? My mind
reeled with possibilities.
Looking north, the
large outcrop at the
base of Arizona Dam
Butte matches the
outline drawn on the
map. The author
believes that the ‘hoyo’
or ‘hole’ lebeled on the
Peralta-Ruth map
indicates the ‘window’
in this outcrop which
can be seen clearly
ONLY from the mine in
the wash bed.
72
Section of the Peralta-Ruth map hi-lighted to show the outline. What was believed to be a ridge was, in fact, a large
outcrop on the slope of a mountain. The ‘hole’ is the ‘window’ in this outcrop; simply a ‘hole’.
The outline of this outcrop matches the outline drawn on the Peralta- Ruth map
with uncanny accuracy. Contrary to popular belief, it is my opinion that ‘Hoyo’
was never designating a ‘pit mine’ above the ‘unfinished tunnel’ of lore. On this
map it was designating Hoyo for exactly what it was—a ‘Hole.’ Some legends
claim that the sun or moon would rise and shine into the mine through a ‘window’
or hole in a rock at a certain time. Still other versions claim the afternoon/setting
sun would shine into the mine. At Red Mountain both versions may be accurate!
Looking south from the mine. The hole in the rock is clearly visible from that location.
73
The Tunnel
The following morning, I was physically exhausted but mentally high.
Throughout the night I compared the outline of the red outcrop to the outline on
the map and occasionally woke Trudy to tell her of a new theory or share new
insights (with little regard of the fact that she had to work in the morning). I came
to realize another feature of the map which would aid in disguising the true
location of the tunnel: The massive outcrop of conglomerate stone to which Es
Carbadia was actually attached was also very similar in shape to the outline of
the red outcrop the hole, and to the outline drawn on the map. This was why I
had originally believed the tunnel to be up in the ravine beneath Es Carbadia,
with the pit mine (Hoyo) just above it higher on the ridge. I had wasted a lot of
time attempting to climb up into the ravine, and pulled a lot of cactus needles out
of my skin unnecessarily. But then, the majority of time spent hunting treasure is
usually spent on the wrong track until the process of elimination (or the treasure
hunter’s wife) eventually leads you to the correct location. As I continued my
research through the coming weeks, I would again begin to believe that there
was something of importance up in the ravine high on the ridge: the real Lost
Dutchman Mine.
****
At 6 a.m., I left for Red Mountain and Trudy left for work. After parking in
my usual spot beside Six Poles rock at Pole #7, I grabbed my camera and
wasted no time in getting to the red outcrops at the base of Arizona Dam Butte. I
was certain I would locate the tunnel within an hour and be able to pick up Trudy
at work for a celebration lunch at our favorite eatery, Tokyo Express. By 3 p.m.,
though, I was still searching. It was hot and I was tired, frustrated and hungry. I
decided to leave and get something to eat at a Seven-Eleven on Country Club
Drive, but when I returned to my car I found it had been broken into. The doors
and glove box were open, my documents and books strewn about the ground,
and the lock mechanism on the trunk was shattered. In those days I had a hot,
short temper, and at the sight of my vehicle, my temper exploded with all the
frustrations I had experienced throughout the day searching for the tunnel. If I
had caught the thieves in the act there is little doubt in my mind that I would have
killed them, or been killed trying. In anger I threw rocks into the air like a
disgruntled baboon and kicked the ground and the side of the car cursing god,
the thieves, the mountain and everything else that was within focus of my
spontaneous memory system. I’m certain that from an onlooker’s point of view,
the flying dust, yelling, obscene gestures and vulgarities made for quite a display,
worthy of immediate mental assistance. When I left, there was a lot of dust in the
air and I had a sore wrist from slugging the trunk of a nearby palo verde tree.
How the camera survived it all is a mystery, for I don’t recall taking it off my belt
until I got home (good ol’ Minolta).
74
Once home, I vented more frustration while Trudy wrapped my hand in a
wrist brace and notified the insurance company of the break-in. I ranted and
raved about the tunnel not being where it was supposed to be and about all the
things I would do to the thieves when I caught them. Later that night, I was still
fuming and still sore. I called into work sick, which added more stress to Trudy,
for we could barely afford our bills as it was. This resulted in an argument
between us that lasted into the wee hours of morning. I was mono-focused on
Red Mountain, to the point that it was no longer a leisurely treasure hunt, nor a
hobby, but instead, a severe obsession. As long as things were going my way
out there I was happy, but as soon as something went wrong, or if I was delayed
from finding this or that, I made everyone aware of it. Trudy recognized the signs
of obsession and had cautiously commented about it at times, but I could see no
problem, naturally.
Through all the stress of having to deal with a move, an adjustment to
Arizona, a new job and training, my obsession with the mountain and the
arguments that were now manifesting between us, and other non-related
circumstances, Trudy was growing too weak to fight. She often came home from
work with a painful headache and went to bed, and while lines around her eyes
formed and deepened, our relationship suffered. I rarely made dinner in those
months, as I was too preoccupied with my research to be bothered. It was the
beginning of the end of our short time in Arizona, and along with it, the hopes and
goals we had dreamed of while still in Utah. The events that would follow in the
coming months would bury for good any hope of ever regaining ground and
pursuing those dreams, and the scars would last through the decade of our
marriage.
During the next several days, and driven by an unrelenting obsession, I
criss-crossed the area beneath the outcrop, but to no avail. My home life and
duties as a husband and father became non-existent and I called into work ‘sick’
sometimes two or three days in a row, eventually at the cost of my job. I told
Trudy it was a standard ‘reduction in force’ but, of course, she knew better.
It was one Saturday afternoon in early May that I discovered what I believed to
be the tunnel for which I was searching. I had grown frustrated to the point of
being unbearable to live with for not having found the tunnel on the map, and
often cursed Peralta, the mountain and the very land. It should have been so
simple—just position myself at a point where Es Carbadia ‘sat’ on the crest of the
big red outcrop and voilà! But it wasn’t there. On this day, while Trudy was at
work, I decided to take a deep breath and start from the beginning. I positioned
myself again where Es Carbadia and the outcrop matched the map, and then
carefully studied the terrain around me. It was said in the legends that one could
almost stand on the mine or tunnel and not see it, for it was carefully concealed
or camouflaged. I stood there for nearly an hour looking carefully around me and
was just about to give up and go home when I saw a faint discoloration difference
in the soil several yards up the slope from me. At first it seemed nothing at all,
but as I approached a small opening began to appear over the ancient tailings,
which was difficult to discern from the natural land. My heart skipped a beat and
butterflies stormed my stomach. It was a tunnel! Immediately I ran up to it and
crouched in the opening looking back into the shadows. Tears of excitement and
release from so much frustration bottled in me involuntarily streamed down my
75
face. This tunnel, crudely cut, only went back about fifteen feet or so and was
filled with dead branches and dry cholla bulbs typical of a coyote or javalina den.
I didn’t enter it for fear of rattlesnakes but, although it was about fifty feet from
where the map said it should be, it was, nonetheless, a ‘tunnel’, and near enough
to the landmark to satisfy me that this was the same tunnel shown on the map.
I believed it to be the same tunnel Peralta was said to have started in
order to reach the vein of ore, but had left abandoned so long ago. If it was the
same tunnel then, indeed, there must still be a mine on the top of Arizona Dam
Butte, accessible only by hiking up the ravine, for into that ravine is where all the
dim trails I had discovered earlier seemed to lead. How much truth was buried in
the old tales told by Ely and Storm and others? How could all the same obscure
landmarks and evidence be at Red Mountain if it were all fiction? Did Storm
interview some unknown descendent? Did he perhaps track down Gonzales’ wife
and family in Texas after hearing of Ruth’s demise in the Superstitions and the
subsequent tales of the map from Ruth’s son, Erwin? The event of Ruth’s death
certainly made headline news across the country, and Storm was a treasure
hunter.
I was excited to have found this tunnel, but at the same time I was
disheartened by the fact that it was just an empty hole in the ground. I felt my ego
crashing in around me with crushing force. Because the tunnel had figured on the
map so prominently, I had believed for certain that Peralta had used the
‘unfinished tunnel’ to hide the gold and supplies he couldn’t carry during their
hasty exodus. I believed, too, that perhaps it was from that tunnel that Waltz had
acquired his rich gold, but here it was: just an empty hole and the tailings
suggested it did not go back any deeper than what I could see.
Yet in my mind, all was not lost. According to the legend the ‘pit mine’ was
located directly above the tunnel high on the ridge and well out of view. I sat
back, reclined on the tailings, and stared up the near-vertical rocky slope of
Arizona Dam Butte knowing that my quest was not yet over. I would have to
climb the rugged butte to find that mine, and that did not delight me in the least.
From a distance Arizona Dam Butte seems relatively easy to scale. But when
one stands at its foot, one soon realizes how dangerous and difficult it would
be—certainly not a hike in the park!
76
The ‘Unfinished Tunnel’ of Peralta legends?
This tunnel is located just several meters south of the large ‘window’ outcrop.
The ravine beneath Es Carbadia appeared to be the easiest and safest passage
still and was obviously why the dim trails seemed to lead into it. It had defeated
me on several occasions, though, almost as if it was guarded by something not
of this world. Reluctant, but no longer entirely discouraged, I drove back home.
****
Trudy possesses a gift of seeing with the mind’s eye. She is a humble and
lovely woman whose energy calms all those around her (except obsessed,
arrogant, naïve treasure hunters). I would learn in the years to come just how
insightful and gifted she truly was in both seeing and feeling a person’s emotions,
and also in envisioning with keen accuracy landscapes and items in distant
places she had never been. In the years following our Red Mountain experience,
she would utilize this gift in her to help locate many other caches and ruins of
antiquity. Rarely did she mis-describe the terrain or landmarks I was looking for,
nor the sequence of obstacles and events I would encounter.
While on our outings, both my father and I have been spooked more than
once at Trudy’s accuracy. On one particular outing in 1991, while searching for a
gold shield in the west desert of Utah (which was supposedly left as a marker by
the Spanish), we were humbled to reverence as every event and landmark she
foresaw manifested on cue, beginning with problems with our Land Cruiser. In
her mind’s eye, she saw a tree that was like no other, which had once been
planted by a pioneer settler who had built a small adobe house near it. At that
location, she explained, we should stop to view the hillside for reflections given
off by the shield (which, according to sheep ranchers and Paiute Indians of the
area, was only visible when the sun was shining from its position in the sky
during June and July). We had been driving for hours across the sagebrush
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desert when, coming around a bend against a hill, a tall, lush oak tree suddenly
appeared in a canyon not far away. It stood out like a sore thumb. When my
father and I arrived at its base, we could see the faint outline of an old foundation
in the dirt about 30 feet from the tree. Unfortunately, it was cloudy that day (Trudy
said it would be) and we saw no reflections, but we did have a wonderful time
with the metal detectors around the foundation of the old homestead.
The night after locating the empty tunnel near the red outcrops would be
the first of many experiences with this gift she possessed. Trudy had come home
from work that evening with a smile—something rare. Her green eyes sparkled
as they once had before I heard of Red Mountain, and before I could ask what
pleased her so she said, “You found it, didn’t you!” I told her I had, and we
hugged in congratulations. But I explained that it was just an empty hole and that
it must have been figured on the map as the final key to locating the actual mine
itself high above it on the ridge. She feigned a frown, but added that it didn’t
matter. I had cracked the Peralta Map and proved it was genuine, and thus, so
was the legend of Peralta and the Sombrero Mines. This may be true, but without
some artifact or concrete evidence it was circumstantial at best. One could
successfully argue that the uncanny conjunction of landmarks versus the map
was mere coincidence. I was feeling I had let so much go during those six
months for nothing. After dinner that evening, we relaxed on the sofa; Trudy was
engrossed in a movie and I in my thoughts of Red Mountain and the mine high
on the ridge. Suddenly she looked at me with a curious expression and said,
“You found the unfinished tunnel the miners started to dig. That’s not the same
tunnel shown on the map. You went too high up the mountain.” I didn’t
understand Trudy’s gift well at that time and, thinking she was only trying to
cheer me up, I grunted somewhat negatively in reply. It was the only tunnel on
that mountain. I had spent days crossing every square inch below and around
the outcrop. That was the tunnel, all right. But she was persistent. “The one
you’re looking for is buried over. You walked across it several times. It’s there.
It’s in a little, tiny gulch forking off the main wash bed. When you go up the wash,
just stay to the right. There’s lots of growth in there and a big (saguaro) cactus
beside it (the tunnel). Go back tomorrow and look for it!” I humored her. Over the
course of that last several months I had not only jeopardized my marriage and
lost my job, but I had sadly driven my wife insane. Our bedroom was nothing
short of a treasure-hunter supply shop with every available space occupied by a
map or photograph.
Somewhere beneath it all were pretty pictures, family portraits and decor
she had so carefully and artistically arranged the month we had moved there.
Trudy was becoming weaker also because of the stress, but I failed at the time to
see it —a mis-observation that nearly cost her life after a sudden collapse one
evening a month later. Still, something about her words then seemed true.
Something was eating at me, also. Was there another tunnel? Perhaps there
was, for why would the map show only the tunnel, and not mines, with such
importance? If the tunnel was simply another key to locating the mine, I
reasoned, the mine itself should be marked on the map above it. The tunnel
seemed still to be the focus of the map, but that didn’t mean a rich mine on the
summit didn’t exist. Rather, it indicated that the tunnel was of no interest to the
miners any more. If the concealed tunnel was, in fact, a storehouse, then getting
78
the ore out of the tunnel the following year—before the region fell into the control
of the United States—would have been Peralta’s only concern.
The next day early, I went back to the mountain. This day would not be an
average day in the least. Not only it would it confirm Trudy’s strange ability, which
would change my perspectives on ‘reality’ ever more, but I would also meet four
Pima men at yet another outcrop near Pole #7. The Pimas would share with me
some important history of the mountain and introduce me to a cave which is very
likely the real ‘Caverna Con Casa,’ and may at times have sheltered Jacob
Waltz!
Back out at Red Mountain, I parked my car in my usual place and began
hiking up into the canyon. This time I would follow the route of the wash bed
rather than hike overland to the big red outcrop and tunnel I had previously
discovered. Midway up the wash bed, just a short distance south of the red
outcrop, one encounters a wall of black basalt. It is easier to back-track the wash
bed, climb out and go around this obstacle from above than to scale the steep
slope from that point, which is usually what I do. But today I was listening to
Trudy—watching for a small, narrow spur to the right of the main wash bed. Just
before one reaches the basalt wall, such a spur exists. It was a gulch that I had
explored several times before, but where I had found nothing of interest. Up
ahead, I could see a saguaro cactus and headed straight for it, but once there I
could find no sign of a tunnel—just an abrupt dead-end. Directly above me was
the nose of the big red outcrop. If there was a tunnel, it would certainly be here,
for this location beneath the outcrop was exactly where the map claimed such a
tunnel should be found.
Frustrated, I hiked westerly up a slope to the top of a small knoll dividing
that gulch from main wash bed. The ground in this area (as well as in the ravine
beneath Es Carbadia) is littered with chunks of white and pinkish quartz. I had
examined some of this quartz in the previous months, but having not the slightest
knowledge then of mineralogy, I had no idea what I was looking at. In those days,
to be frank, unless the quartz had chunks yellow metal with 14k stamped on it, I
wouldn’t have known gold from my dirty shorts. But gold, I later learned, seldom
looks like ‘gold’ in its native form.
During all the hiking over the last six months, I had not been in this exact
spot before. The numerous chunks of quartz commanded my attention for a
moment, but finding no ‘gold’ I discarded them and began to scan the terrain at
the base of Arizona Dam Butte for the tunnel once more. Suddenly, from that
perspective only, I could see in the gulch below me the unmistakable outline of
what certainly appeared to be a concealed tunnel. Furthermore, it was precisely
where the map claimed the tunnel should be—directly below and just south of the
red outcrop and in a tiny gulch by itself. My god, I mused. It was here, after all. A
concealed tunnel, and, as Trudy had said, I had, indeed, walked over it several
times, both hiking up out of the gulch and ascending down into it. My tracks in the
broken dirt were plain. For a long while I stood on the little knoll looking down at
the sunken outline of the tunnel. Was it the storehouse of Peralta’s riches? Was it
an entrance to the vein deep inside the mountain?
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Concealed tunnel directly below ‘window’ outcrop as the map suggested it would be.
My heart pounded in my chest with excitement, but I was overcome with a
sense of both reverence and sadness that is still hard to explain today. I didn’t go
down into the gully again but instead stood on the knoll looking about the entire
broad canyon around me. Here is where it had all happened so long ago: The
discovery of a rich vein of ore by the miners and subsequent desecration of the
Indian’s sacred land; the battle which ensued between them as a result,
ultimately ending with the massacre of the remaining miners near the
northwestern end of Superstition Mountain after a desperate and futile attempt to
escape; and here, too, I believed, is where the gold of the rich Sombrero Mines
would be rediscovered by a quiet German prospector many years afterward, and
whose role in the legend would launch one of the greatest quests for wealth in
the history of treasure hunting, involving thousands of people across a century of
time. Everything I had discovered from January to the first week in June had led
to one conclusion: The legend was real. The mines were real, regardless of
where small portions had been scattered, both during and after the battle with the
Apache. At least as far as this map and the physical evidence were concerned,
Red Mountain was the home of the Sombrero Mines. There was no doubt in me
at all.
As I gazed around the land, my head was filled with mini flashbacks of my
six-month long quest for, apparently, this concealed tunnel. I felt a strange
emptiness inside, not for what may have occurred here to a group of Spanish
miners more than 150 years ago, but rather because I knew that with this last
discovery my quest had ended. I wanted to know what was concealed in the
tunnel, but not as badly as I wanted the challenge of finding it.
My quest for the legendary Sombrero Mines of Peralta had been the fuel
of my life force as each day I looked forward to what lain hidden around the next
80
rock or over the next hill. It had been the fuel of my life, but the heartache of
Trudy’s life. There was a heavy cost for all of this, but nothing to show for it but
self-gratification. Above me Es Carbadia loomed watchful over the mines and
events below as it had for millennia; indifferent to whether I had or hadn’t
discovered the mines, or whether my marriage and Trudy’s health were
dissolving because of it. There was nothing left to find and I knew that shortly I
would have to leave the little knoll I stood on, and Red Mountain, go home, find a
job and begin mending six months of damage to my marriage due to neglect. I
recall feeling reluctant to do so, because of all the money I had spent on fuel,
books, maps, cameras, film, food and snacks, and the break-in damage to the
car, I had nothing to show, nothing to offer Trudy that would make it better or
worthwhile. I now had to face her and explain that I had found the tunnel and that
it was over and that I was now ready to get on with being a husband and what we
had started to do in the first place a year before. She would smile, as she always
did, and say congratulations! But I felt somewhat embarrassed to face her.
Feeling the need to apologize and justify what I had just put her through for six
months was the closest I came then to realizing I had been lost in an obsession.
It wouldn’t be for another eight years when I returned to Red Mountain after our
divorce in 1995 that I would see the whole picture, and hurt deeply as a result. If
the truth be known, the writing of this book was, I suppose, as much to purge
those memories and the guilt, as it was to show the location of the Sombrero
mines and what I had discovered in that year of 1988.
Indeed, I believed that my quest was over and that life would ultimately
settle back into the mundane demands of daily married life that I had looked
forward to when marrying Trudy, but I couldn’t have been more mistaken. The
mountain, or something else there, wasn’t finished with me yet, and wouldn’t be
satisfied until I had been forced to leave Arizona. After taking a couple
photographs of the tunnel, I hiked slowly back to my car. I decided not to follow
the wash bed this time, which would have been easier hiking through fewer cacti,
but instead I took another route which led beside another outcrop hidden by the
trees not far from where I had parked my car. As I passed by it, I was startled by
the presence of four Pima men sitting about in the cooler shade of the trees
below the outcrop. The conversations we had, and what I was shown, only
seemed to solidify my claim that Red Mountain was the location of the Sombrero
Mines. They also offered new evidence supporting the possibility that Jacob
Waltz had come here, also, for his gold, and not to Superstition Mountain.
View as seen from Salt River
CHAPTER THREE
A Hidden History
of
Red Mountain
81
82
They Who Came Before
Here in this region, where two rivers come together, where many caves
provided shelter and where an abundance of fish and game provided
sustenance, it stands to reason that Red Mountain has seen many travelers and
inhabitants across the millenniums from ancient nomadic tribes and Hohokum
Indian to Spanish miners, prospectors and military men. Even today, with the
rivers now dammed and flowing at much less than their historical capacity it
remains a beautiful and inviting oasis in the desert. Thousands of people from
the surrounding communities visit the area each summer to escape the
oppressive heat of summer. Even so, Red Mountain itself has remained secluded
and has camouflaged its secret past from those who admire the land today. It
has been a sacred place since antiquity and has been kept protected against by
the Pima unto the present. While much of the ancient history and events has
been lost with those who have now passed on remnants of its past are still
remembered among some of their descendants; handed down to those who want
to listen. It is hoped by this author that many more stories of Red Mountain will
be remembered and written down and preserved for future generations who
come to gaze at the images of the ‘Indian’ and landmarks and rock writings left
by Native Americans, miners, explorers and travelers of long ago.
****
Near pole # 7 on the north side of the dirt road, which follows the course of
the Salt River, is another small butte or outcrop just visible above the tree line. I
had passed this outcrop several times and had once even explored around it. But
I had no idea what secrets this outcrop held until I met a Pima man named Tom
while hiking back from discovering what I believed to be the concealed the tunnel
shown on the map. There were four Pima men sitting in the shade of the trees
around this outcrop. At first I walked by, only nodding a ‘hello’ as I passed. As I
did one of the four men called out to me.
“Find anything interesting up there”, he asked. I replied something about
the beautiful scenery and kept walking. But he was not satisfied.
“What have you been looking for up there”, he asked.
His question caught me off guard. I felt as if they knew everything,
perhaps had even been watching my every move from early on in my research. I
was respectful as I remembered that I was on their land, and out of respect I
stopped to answer his questions. The tallest of the four men walked down to the
trail toward me. He was dressed in khaki shorts, a button-up blue flannel shirt
and sported a short hair cut, unlike his companions who wore their hair long. I
judged him to be between 30 and 35 years old.
“I’m interested in the history of this area”, I answered.
“There’s lots of history here”, said the tall Pima as he extended his hand.
“My name is Tom”.
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View looking south from Red Mountain.
The ‘X’ is where author always parked at Pole #7 during 1988.
I returned the greeting and introduced myself. “I saw some old timbers
against the base of the mountain up in there in that saddle,” I pointed. “Do you
know if there was a stone shelter built up there?”
Before he could answer another man in the group who sat against a palo
verde tree spoke up.
“You’re looking for gold, aren’t you?”
Before then I was only casually intimidated, now I was a bit frightened.
The frank, cool tone of his voice implied that perhaps I should not have found
what it was I found in the first place, and they were now going to see to my
silence. But as we continued to talk, I, nervously stammering, learned that Tom,
also, was interested in the history of the mountain and knew much. I came clean
and explained what I was searching for. Not gold, exactly, but rather for the
Sombrero Mines of Peralta, which I believed to be located here. I was eager to
solve the mystery. Tom nodded thoughtfully, but neither denied nor confirmed my
suggestion concerning the mines. Rather, he told me that his grandfather, who
had passed away sometime ago, had known many things about this land and
had often shared them with Tom. He invited me to sit with them and swap stories
and information, although his companions seemed less than enthused by my
presence, so while they conversed among themselves in their native language
Tom and I talked of history.
Tom was educated in the field of anthropology, possessing a degree from
the University of Arizona. His interest was in ancient native cultures that had
inhabited the southwest area of the United States and Mexico. He was also
learned in his own history and the lore and traditions of the Pima.
Tom’s knowledge of the Red Mountain area had come mostly from his
grandfather who had worked on the both the Roosevelt Dam project and the Salt
River Project as well as working as a road builder. Tom had known his
grandfather to visit Red Mountain on special occasions to offer prayers. On one
occasion Tom had accompanied him and watched quietly while he formed a
small circle of stones and lit a ceremonial fire before chanting his prayer. On a
low hill situated between Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte I have seen
several such ceremonial circles (no larger that 10 inches round) where someone
in more recent times has come to offer prayers.
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“Hidden in this rock behind us”, Tom continued, “is a cave with a stone
house where the Mexicans had lived and had also worshipped their god.
It likely it had served as both a shelter and religious alter of sorts. It was filled in
with all the rock and dirt you see now in order to conceal it, but a part of it is still
open at the top. Have you been in there yet?”
Cave? I did not know about that cave. Tom explained it was well hidden,
but no secret. Many kids had come there to party in recent years and there was
trash and broken glass all over the inside of the cave. In the past it had been
used as a shelter. Tom and his brothers had camped in it often when they were
in their teens. Tom offered to show me this cave, and I obliged without hesitation.
The entrance to this cave is located just near the top of the outcrop and is hidden
behind a mound of dirt and large rocks and trees. Truly, unless you knew it was
there you would walk right past it. Tom led the way up the steep slope stooping
down as he entered into a dark hole in the rock. I followed. Once inside there
was room enough to stand. The cave was about the size of a small room with a
narrow crawl space spurring off into the rock on the southern wall. As he had
said, the floor was littered with glass and garbage and a small fire pit in the
center was filled with charred branches and more refuge. Just outside the cave
was another fire pit which contained the same debris. Tom squatted down and
looked out the opening.
The cave shown to author in 1988 by a
Pima named Tom. The photo of the cave is
as it appeared in 1988. The front section
has since collapsed. The author believes
this cave may have been a shelter used by
Jacob Waltz. It is said that there is a stone
structure and alter buried inside the larger
section of the cave below this one, which is
still buried. Tom also claimed this cave was
once a passage that led from the
“Underworld”.
“See how the dirt goes out from here almost flat?” Tom said, pointing back
out side the entrance. “That was all pulled out from inside here. It was part of the
fill-dirt put here to hide the cave and the old stone shelter below us. Animals
likely dug it out first for shelter, then later, people. My grandfather told me there
85
was once a rock wall in here dividing this room, but it crumbled years ago. All the
stones of the wall were eventually tossed out. Maybe those are some of them
making up that other fire pit outside.”
It took no imagination to see that the dirt outside had been dug out from
the cave. It was flat and unnatural with a small fire pit in the center. I could not
believe my good fortune this day. First I had discovered what I believed to be the
tunnel entrance at the base of Arizona Dam Butte, and now I was being given a
tour of what may be as significant as the Peralta Mines: A concealed cave whose
stone structure was still buried beneath us! “You see these trees on the slope”,
he continued, pointing outside the cave. “These were planted once the cave was
filled in. The main cave had been intended to be hidden for good. In antiquity the
cave had an hour-glass shape to it that had been carved out by the river. When it
was filled in everything was buried inside. My grandfather told me that he knew
there was a gold and silver cross inside along with many other things including a
small gold or copper horse representing the one that carried Mary to Bethlehem
(donkey). Everything was left inside. It was simply filled up as is”.
Tom paused for some time and I took this to mean I could ask questions. I
had a million to ask and burned with excitement.
“What period in history did this event take place?” I asked.
“It was a long time ago. Probably a few hundred years I think, but I’m not
sure. All of this land is sacred to one people or another and there are many
legends if you know who to ask about them”.
“How long has this upper portion of the cave been open?”
“I think it has been used as shelter for many years, before the cities were
here”. I had come here to play when I was a kid. My father and grandfather took
us on hikes around the mountain. Grandfather stopped coming up here after a
while. He said the mountain was dying and it was angry, its power was leaving.
He was very old by then and I remember the difficulty he had walking. Once us
kids hiked to the top (of Red Mountain) and spent the night. We came home the
next day we got our butts chewed for it by grandfather. He said there are spirits
who come out at night in this canyon to steal the souls of unwary travelers. Have
you ever spent a night up in there?”
I told him I had not, but that I had seen and felt some very strange things. I
told him about the fox and the uneasy feeling I experienced after falling into the
mine. It had been a feeling as though someone were standing in the mine with
me. Tom offered no comment and I left it at that. We walked back out into the
light and made our way down the pile of rock and dirt to the flat where his
companions waited. The sun had gone behind the mountain casting the canyon
in shade. A breeze picked up. It was refreshing and peaceful. I stared up into the
canyon and at the landmarks and places where I knew the mines and tunnel to
be located. I asked Tom if he had ever seen the mines, or perhaps knew where
others might be. When questioned about them he said he had seen some on the
other side (north), but had not recalled seeing any on this side. I asked if he knew
the story of Jacob Waltz and the Sombrero Mines of Peralta and if he would like
to see the mines and the tunnel and see how the map had been created and
deciphered. He had heard the stories of Waltz and said he would enjoy seeing
the mines on some other day, but at the moment he was pressed for time and
86
had to leave soon. I felt the same way. I was eager to get home and tell Trudy
what I had discovered and of the new history I had learned.
Friends of author examine the cave entrance in 1996. The front of cave has collapsed and appears much different than it
did in 1988. Perhaps Tom’s grandfather was correct when he told Tom that the mountain was dying. The trees growing
from the steep slope are said to have been planted by Indians long ago in order to disguise the location of a Spanish or
Mexican rock shelter concealed within.
Tom told me several more stories while his companions talked among
themselves, seemingly uninterested in the subject. He asked me if I had been on
the west side and seen the writings in the stone. Some, he said, had always
been there and were old —travelers who had likely camped in a small over-hang
on that side. I hadn’t seen them, again I almost wet my pants for excitement. He
told me how to find these writings but he didn’t have time to show me personally
at that time. I could hardly wait to explore that area and see what was written. But
I, too, would have to wait for another day when more time permitted.
Before leaving Tom shared one more story with me. It was of a recurring
dream he had had since childhood. Each time, he said, it was the same.
“In the dream I am with my brother. We are hiking up the steep slope of
the mountain (Red Mountain). The going is difficult because the trail we are
following has long eroded away. We pass signs carved into the rock now and
then and at one point I get into an argument with my brother about the meaning
of the sign and which direction to travel. He finally follows me. Soon we are
almost at the top of the mountain and we find a cave with writing around it. I don’t
know what writing it is but there is also a circle with a bird in the center. I pay
attention to this symbol, but to this day I don’t know what it means.
“Both my brother and I enter the cave and as soon as we do it becomes
light as with the glow from a fire, except there is no fire visible. Against the back
of the cave we see piles of treasure...artifacts of gold and silver in the shapes of
many things, like candle holders and cups and chains. Suddenly four spirits
87
appear in between us and the treasure. They begin to speak together, but with
one voice, if you understand. They say, ‘Take what you wish from this place, but
take it only this once. Never return here again or death will be waiting’.
“The spirits vanish. My brother and I approach the treasure, which is piled
over our heads. I only take a small cup made of gold because I knew I would
need my hands free to climb back down the mountain. But my brother fills his
arms full. Outside the cave he sets his treasure down and looks through it. I sit
down beside him holding my small cup. Suddenly, he says he is not satisfied with
what he has taken and quickly runs back inside the cave before I can stop him.
Then I hear him scream. When he walks out into the sunlight he is only a
skeleton. His bones crumble and fall off the edge of the cliff and shatter on the
rocks far below. I begin to cry and throw my cup off the cliff too. This is where I
wake up every time. But I do believe that somewhere on the mountain near the
top is a cave filled with treasure. I know one day I will find it, too. That was the
reason we all hiked up to the top years ago when I was a teenager. I wanted to
find it.”
As Tom told me his dream I envisioned the cave filled with gold, the
strange writing and the signs they had followed. I, too, had always been intrigued
with the upper portion of that mountain, particularly because of the legend of
Geronimo’s secret cave of gold. As legend told, Geronimo had attempted to bribe
a soldier for his freedom by offering to show the soldier a cave filled with gold.
The cave was supposedly located beneath the chin of an ‘Indian’ whose image
had been forged into the mountain rock by the elements. According to the tale,
this cave, and image of an ‘Indian’, was located somewhere in the Verde River
country. The Verde River ran beside Red Mountain and I was certain I had found
that particular ‘Indian’.
I could hardly wait to get home to tell my wife of this day. Equally, I
hungered to see the writings on the west side of the mountain. There was a longhidden history at Red Mountain of travelers, events and times that few knew of,
and it was becoming clear that the story of the Peralta miners and their Sombrero
Mines was not the only story secreted there. There were stories and artifacts
going back for hundreds of years. Red Mountain had witnessed these events and
had known those who had come there seeking gold, or even, perhaps, a New
World. Now it was learning of me—just another story in a long string of countless
stories.
It was getting late, and as I bid goodbye to my new friend, Tom, I looked
up into the rugged reaches of Red Mountain shadowed in the dwindling light.
Anyone of the thousands of holes in the stone could be the cave of Tom’s dream,
or the cave hiding Geronimo’s gold. I noticed Tom looking up there too. As we
walked together back to the main dirt road Tom pointed toward the outcrop called
Six Poles where my car was parked. He told me that there were more piles of dirt
and rock against that outcrop, also, but he knew nothing more about it. We
parted way and as they wandered westward down the dirt road I hollered jokingly
to Tom. “Remember not to go into that cave twice if you find it!”
Tom hollered back, “It wasn’t me who died up there, white brother!”
I heard the group laugh and I chuckled as well, but driving back out to the main
highway it struck me what he had said: ‘white brother’. Was the ‘brother’ he
spoke of in his dream referring to an obsessed treasure hunter, e.g. me? Was he
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subtly trying to warn me off from looking to closely at the mountain? Or was he
attempting to save my life should I become obsessed with finding Geronimo’s
cave, too. Or was he just making a simple joke? I still don’t know to this day, but
his comment has remained with me and each time I look up into the upper
reaches of Red Mountain after that, I have done so with some reservation.
Somewhere beneath the ‘head’ of the image of the
‘Indian’ may be a cave filled with gold. In Arizona and
the Southwest, there are several tales of a cave filled
with gold, the cave is always said to be beneath the
‘head of an Indian’. Could this be the real ‘head’?
Through binoculars, the author noted a dark hole
beneath the head of this image in 1988.
It is easy to see the piled rock and dirt which contrasts against
the natural concave depression of this outcrop. Could miners
have concealed supplies and tools here? Or is the origin of this
odd pile more recent, say from the time when the SRP dam was
being constructed?
Once home I shared with Trudy the events of the day, leaving nothing out.
She was exited for me, but even so this quest of mine was beginning to take its
toll on her, and our marriage. Yet, I wouldn’t see this until years later. In
hindsight, which is always 20/20 of course, she was physically and emotionally
run down from working all day, coming home to cook meals and clean while I
rambled endlessly on about my latest discoveries or complications in the search.
I had asked my company to place me on part time status due to ‘personal
circumstances’ so I could spend more time out at the mountain. Our bills were
piling up and even the basic necessities for a home with a family were being
compromised as a result. Arguments between Trudy and I became more
frequent and she was becoming ill from stress. At one point Trudy was taken to
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the hospital after she collapsed at home. Yet, even while she was there I could
only think of that mountain and told doctors and interns, paramedics and patients
of my discoveries. I was oblivious to anything else in my life. A far, far cry from
the man I had been just a short year ago who loved this woman beyond
imagination and promised his life to her at a beautiful wedding ceremony on his
fathers little ranch in Hayden, Arizona. I couldn’t see the harm that was being
caused by my obsession. Rather, I kept searching for more and more, and
events of our personal life had not yet turned serious. My heart ached in later
years for realizing how much Trudy had suffered, and how much she had still
encouraged me in spite of it all.
In the days that followed my encounter with Tom I spent time looking for
old writings in the region Tom had directed me. Indeed, the area was covered in
writings and symbols, some new, but many were older, barely visible in the stone
from erosion of time. There was a shallow cave, also, situated right along the
main path—an overhang, really, which could have served as a good shelter for
travelers’ ages ago. Again, I thought of Jacob Waltz. As it stood now, the cave
that Tom had shown me in the top of the outcrop had become the most logical
choice of caves Waltz may have lived in while spending time at Red Mountain—
if, in fact, Waltz had been there at all. But this cave on the west side of the
mountain could have served a prospector as a shelter, also, and judging from the
numerous writing in the surrounding sandstone many people had passed by
there over the years. The color and texture of the stone in this area was, to me,
quite reminiscent of still another set of maps carved from pinkish-gray sandstone
the maps are known as the Stone Tablets, or Peralta Tablets. The authenticity of
these stone maps have been debated since they were first made public in the
early 1950’s a few years after their discovery near Superstition Mountain. As one
version of the story goes the first of these tablets was found in 1949 near
Superstition Mountain by a Travis Tumlinson, a (retired?) police officer and
resident of Hood River, Oregon. Tumlinson had been traveling through Arizona
after visiting relatives in Texas. At one point, while driving along State Road 60,
west of Superior, Tumlinson pulled to the side of the road to take a much needed
potty break. Hiking over a low rise he tripped over a stone jutting from the desert
dirt. The edges of the stone were square and it immediately picked his curiosity.
He returned to his vehicle for a shovel and began digging until he had uncovered
the old stone. Upon examination he saw that the stone had been engraved with
strange symbols and writings. Continuing to dig around in the vicinity he
eventually found four such stones. The full story is too complex to repeat here
but these tablets, as well as their authenticity, have been hotly debated since
they were first made public in an article published in Life Magazine in 1964.
I became casually interested in these tablets now as I studied the
sandstone and writings in this region of Red Mountain. The source of sandstone
from which the Peralta Tablets had been cut was, to my knowledge, never
identified. With all evidence pointing to Red Mountain as being the location of the
Sombrero Mines could it be here, too, that these stones were originally quarried?
Only analysis of the two composites would tell for sure. However, some of the
writing and symbols found here, as well as one very unique natural formation,
suggest, at first look, that the stones might have come from this location.
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But the more I studied the writings the more I questioned the intention for
which the tablets were created. What had caused me to question the tablets was
a name carved into the stone at Red Mountain which also showed a date of
‘1949’ beneath it. While the date fits in with the year the tablets were presumably
discovered it was the tooling that made me take notice. The year 1949 was a
time of Dutchman fever. Although it had been nearly two decades since Adolf
Ruth died in the Superstition Mountains the interest in the mine was still fresh on
the wind due in part to the books written since then by Barry Storm. Treasure
Hunters convinced of the mines’ existence came from across the nation to try
there luck. One of Storms books, Thunder God’s Gold (published in 1945), was
made into a Motion Picture and released that same year, 1949. It was titled ‘Lust
for Gold’ and starred a young Glen Ford an obsessive and murderous Jacob
Waltz.
Lust for Gold, 1949
(source: The Lost Dutchman Mine o f Jacob Waltz, T.E. Glover, 1999)
On the top portion the over-hang shelter at Red Mountain, where many
had chiseled their names and various symbols, there was a name with a date
and it was the date that struck a familiar note in my memory. The name was ‘H.
Spady’ and below was a date of ‘Oct. ‘49’. In association with the date, what
struck me most about this particular carving was the tooling. It was almost
identical to the tooling on the Stone Tablets, most notably the way the ‘dots’ had
been made—perfectly round and even in depth, almost as if a drill bit or like tool
had been used. I likely wouldn’t have given this another thought had it not been
dated the same year, 1949, that ‘Lust For Gold’ was released. That started me
thinking. What if those Tablets, whose origins and purpose is still questioned,
had been ‘created’ that year as a movie prop, or more likely, a hoax to generate
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tourism in the wake of the movie’s release? It seemed very coincidental that both
the tooling and the date matched the tooling on the map and the year the first
tablet was supposedly found, as well as the year the movie was released. The
name ‘H. Spady’ was also carved into stone reminiscent of the same stone that
the tablets were cut from.
I ruled out the possibility of the tablets being created as a movie prop. It
would have been easier for the studios to create a lighter, synthetic tablet if they
were to be used as a prop—one that Glen Ford could pick up and examine if
such was called for in the script. That left me leaning toward the hoax theory. If it
were created as a hoax, perhaps the party involved had become nervous and
backed off fearing punishment if caught in the act. The history of the Lost
Dutchman Mine since Waltz’ death is as much about a history of hoaxes as it is
about lost mines and embellishments. Hoaxes were certainly no stranger to the
Dutchman-Peralta saga. Perhaps after the tablet hoaxers had carved the tablets
they then took them out to Superstition Mountain to ‘hide’ them in preparation for
their timely ‘discovery’. By some coincidental means they were located by
Tumlinson.
Of course, this is speculation based entirely on circumstantial evidence,
but is intriguing, nonetheless. If Mr. ‘H. Spady of Oct. ‘49 is still alive and well I
Apologize for the insinuation. On the other hand, if he knows more concerning
this carving at Red Mountain I would like to know as well! It would be interesting
to know the names of those who were both involved production or promotion of
the movie and were also in Arizona at that time in order to see if any of the many
names carved at this site at Red Mountain match!
H. SPADY OCT. ’49
Around the name can be seen more writings, some much older and warn.
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Two sections of the ‘Stone Heart Map’ (left) and a section of ‘H. Spady’ (right) at Red Mountain. Notice the tooling of the
dots. They are almost identical. Could ‘H. Spady’ have taken part in creating the tablets for, perhaps, a hoax to gain
publicity for the 1949 movie, Lust For Gold?
Below: The Stone Tablets.
(Photos of Stone Tablets provided by Dan Wylde)
The Heart Tablet (without stone heart inserted). Note date of 1847.
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The Heart Tablet with stone heart inserted.
The Heart insert
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The Map Tablet. This section is believed part of the Heart Tablet as the trails (shown with dots) match when the two
stones are placed side by side.
Horse Tablet
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Priest Tablet (sometimes called the ‘Witch Tablet because of pointed hat).
However, there is evidence supporting the authenticity of these Tablets if
they did, in fact, originate here at Red Mountain. The first curiosity is a drawing
found on the tablet called the ‘Priest Tablet’, or ‘Witch Tablet’. It shows a figure
in a robe with a pointed hat standing on a stone pedestal with an outstretched
hand holding a cross. From the cross are seen symbols snaking downward. A
message written in Spanish is beside the image to the right and, spelling barred,
translates: ‘This trail is dangerous. I go 18 places. ‘Search (study) the Map.
Search (study) the Heart’. (Of note, I believe it was Barry storm who first
suggested that Peralta worked ‘18’ mines).
What I found interesting about this tablet is that located at Red Mountain,
only a hundred or so feet from this sandstone area, is found a tall, natural stone
formation resembling a ‘priest’ sitting or kneeling. The formation is positioned on
the top of a hill. He is dressed in a robe and holds a cross in his hand and is
facing east. This image stands out against the red backdrop of the mountain and
can be seen from the service road. Because the priest on the tablet appears to
be standing upon a terraced pedestal it suggests that he is standing on stone or
an elevated platform of some type (a hill?). Both the priest and the formation face
to the right, and some symbols seen on the tablet are also found in this
sandstone area as well.
Image of a kneeling or sitting ‘robed priest’ upon a rocky hill directly across the gully from the sandstone
region at Red Mountain. Note the cross he appears to be holding. Could this be the ‘priest’ referred to
on the stone tablet?
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Close-up of the drawing on the Priest Tablet. He is robed, holding a cross, facing to the right, and appears to be perched
upon stone mount (a hill?). Note the date at the base of the priest: 1847.
The next tablet is one showing a horse. On this tablet is written, ‘El
Cobollo de Santa Fe’, which can translate to ‘The Horse of the Holy Faith’ (or,
‘The Horse of Santa Fe’—as in Santa Fe, New Mexico, which some suggest). In
this case I opted for the former translation since Santa Fe is a long distance from
the Salt River Valley. Assuming the horse on the map is referring to an object,
rather than a place, I recalled what Tom had told me concerning the rock shelter
that was presumably concealed within the cave he had shown to me. He had
said that his grandfather had told him that, among other items, was buried a gold
‘horse’ (donkey) like the one Mary rode to Bethlehem. An artifact of this nature
would not be unheard of if the mines had been operated under the supervision of
a priest. Some priests of that era amassed a fortune in personal wealth from the
gold and silver ore they had extracted from their mines (mostly by way of Indian
slave labor).
Although it is extremely difficult to prove such church operations existed
this far north of Tucson, the small golden ‘horse’ supposedly concealed in Tom’s
cave could be what the tablet’s enigmatic message is referring to: ‘The Horse of
the Holy Faith’ and ‘I pasture to the north of the river’. Red Mountain is north of
the Salt River. The term ‘pasture’ could mean ‘resting’ or ‘hidden’. If the miners
had been driven out by Indians it is likely that they would have been forced to flee
as the Peraltas did, leaving everything behind. The tablets containing the maps
may have been lost near Superstition Mountain while fleeing, although it would
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be unlikely that, in the face of imminent threat, the priests would have bothered
taking the heavy tablets with them at all.
We now have a few coincidences between these stone tablets and the
formations, sandstone, symbols and lore of Red Mountain, which suggests that
the tablets were not faked as a hoax, but rather referred to a real location. On
one of the stone tablets known as the Heart Tablet there is a date of 1847 as well
as a name, Pedro. Some believe this date to coincide with the Peralta mining
expedition. The date would be the year they last mined in Arizona and may have
indeed been carved by someone in the Peralta Party (who was artistic and
creative enough to draw the Peralta-Ruth Map with such detail), and may have
been lost near Superstition Mountain while fleeing from Natives (although
carrying such weight while being forced to leave the precious gold behind in
order to flee faster hardly makes sense).
Moving on now, there is a deep gulch between the stone priest formation
and the cave with the writings. Coming up one side of the gulch toward the stone
priest can be seen a trail of sorts heading off toward the formation. When I was
photographing this scene I noticed more writing on the sandstone in the gulch
directly below this trail. A bent arrow points to more writing and then the trail, as if
this was a waybill showing directions. The eroded writing above the arrow is
difficult to make out but in, part, shows a heart, then what appears to be a ‘JW’
followed by more writing which cannot be made out. The arrow sits low in the
gulch and the ‘JW’ writing is written vertical above it—all leading to the trail and
the formation.
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Rock-writing in a gully below the natural formation of the ‘Priest’. The arrow (very bottom center) appears to be pointing
toward it. Could this be a trailhead leading to something of importance in the ‘heart’ of the mountain?
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Close-up of ‘JW’ writing with the ‘arrow’ below and ‘15’ to the left. Note the ancient appearance of this writing due to many
years of weathering. The Peralta-Ruth map also has an arrow and a ‘15’ (15’000) written on it.
Naturally, this ‘JW’ brought my attention back to Jacob Waltz. If it was
created by Waltz the ‘heart’ above his signature may suggest that he knew of
some ’heart’ as referred to on the tablets. The Landmark, Es Carbadia, does,
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from the saddle, resemble a broken ‘heart’ because of the split in the rock that
can only be seen from that location. It is that same split that I believe may allow
the afternoon sunlight to fall on the entrance of his mine at a certain time of year.
Could any of this be associated with the same ‘trick in the trail’ Waltz is said to
have alluded to in order to find the source of his gold? Both this rock-writing and
the stone maps show a ‘heart’ and again, the Es Carbadia looks similar to a
‘broken heart’ when viewed from the saddle.
Beside the ‘JW’ writing on the left can be seen the faded remains of more
writing and symbols. The number ‘15’ is plain. This ‘15’ is reminiscent of the
writing found on the Peralta-Ruth Map above the arrow: ‘15,000’. Could there be
a connection? There is also what appears to be two identical three-prong
‘crowns’ carved side-by-side beneath the ‘15’. The ‘crown’ on the left appears to
be incorporated into the number 15.
Cave on west side of Red Mountain. Sadly, I drew all over this photo with a marker in 1988, attempting to demonstrate
something I’ve since forgotten. But the cave can still be seen. All around this area are carvings in stone both old and
recent.
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Above: Some of the many names and symbols found carved into the stone at Red Mountain. Note older, warn carvings
around them.
CHAPTER FOUR
Back-Engineering History
The Legends Revisited
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What Really Happened
Long, Long Ago?
If the Peralta-Ruth Map does show the location of a real place, Red
Mountain, which has been demonstrated in the previous chapter, then these
same Peraltas of legend, and the same basic events, must have also been real.
Until now, there has been no physical evidence supporting the tale of Peralta and
the Sombrero Mines as being anything more than romantic stories conjured from
the minds of writers and desperate treasure seekers of the last 110 years since
Jacob’s death. So what is this evidence?
The evidence comes in the form of a map which was said to have once
belonged to Peralta and which has now been shown to match outlines and
formations on a mountain very near to where the legend claimed the mines to be.
In this region, also, is found evidence of mining activity and names and symbols
cut into stone dating back for at least 100 years or more. We can be certain that
these mines were called the ‘Sombrero Mines,’ for the legend names them as
such. This conclusion is corroborated by a drawing of a peak on this map that is
labeled as “El Sombrero,” the same map whose landmarks correspond with all
landmarks found at Red Mountain. Simply put, the Peralta-Ruth map was
describing Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte. This much having been
established, where, then, did the Peralta-Ruth Map come from, and how does it
give testimony to the authenticity of the Peralta legend?
This map was one of three documents bequeathed to a man named Erwin
Ruth who served tenure in Mexico for the U.S. government during 1913–14. The
maps were acquired from a doomed insurrectionist named Juan Gonzales,
whose wife was a descendent of a ‘Peralta’ on her mother’s side of the family.
This Peralta, according to the conversation Erwin had with Gonzales, had once
mined in Arizona until both he and his mining party were killed by Apaches. The
basic elements of Gonzales’ story match the elements told in other accounts of
the legend handed down from separate sources. Through Erwin Ruth, we now
have a completely independent and unbiased connection supporting the basic
story of the ‘Sombrero Mines’ and ‘Peralta’ legend in Arizona. Also through Erwin
Ruth, we have a map that points to a real location. This map’s authenticity, and
its connection with Peralta, can be argued through the circumstances
surrounding its appearance on the scene, and through the integrity of Erwin
Ruth, who had no interest in mining or lost treasure, nor anything to gain by
promoting the legend (unlike Julia Thomas). In fact, from the onset of Ruth’s
association with the map, it had brought nothing but trouble and heartbreak for
him and his family. He was simply a man who acquired the maps innocently from
an insurrectionist as a gesture of gratitude for helping Jaun’s wife and children to
the safety of Texas. Moreover, this map was not known to exist until Adolph
Ruth came to Arizona to find the Lost Dutchman Mine. The map demonstrates
that the Sombrero Mines and the Peraltas of Arizona lore were very real.
The earliest known written account of the Sombrero Mines, the
Superstitions and Peralta appeared in a series of articles in 1894—95, just a few
years after the death of Jacob Waltz. The articles were written by a treasure
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hunter/journalist named Piermont C. Bicknell. It is believed that Bicknell may
have interviewed either Julia Thomas or Herman Petrasch about the ‘Ol’ Jake
Mine,’ as it was called then, and even attempted to locate the mine himself. It is
also believed that Bicknell’s articles may have influenced later writers who
incorporated his general landmarks and place names into their own versions of
the legend. Even so, he had to have acquired the basic elements of the story
from someone who knew them back in 1894. The only likely source for his story
was Julia Thomas, who was still selling ‘maps’ to the mine.
The basic and repetitive elements of the legend are:
• The name ‘Peralta’
• Superstition Mountains
• Sombrero Mines (or Sombrero Peak/Butte)
• A tall peak, and
• Jacob Waltz.
But that’s where the common factors between all of the versions end. I
believe that all other versions of the legend can be traced back to Julia Thomas.
Julia’s version of the events surrounding Jacob Waltz and the discovery of his
‘Peralta’ mine becomes twisted with impossibilities, however—suggesting that
she, too, was only in possession of the same basic elements before Waltz died,
and nothing more. The rest she made up, or ‘seen’ in her ‘visions’. Even so, Julia
must have known enough about the mine to believe she could find it, for after
Waltz’ death she gambled her ice cream parlor to outfit an expedition into the
Superstition Mountains to locate the mine. We know this much is true because
the Phoenix Herald newspaper interviewed Julia and reported on her extravagant
purchases of supplies and equipment. From a distance, Superstition Mountain
doesn’t appear that difficult to navigate (much like the ravine at Arizona Dam
Butte). This deceptive accessibility may be why she believed she could easily
locate the mine with what little information Waltz had given. The facts and fiction
about Jacob Waltz and how he discovered his mine, as well as where the mine
was supposed to be located, begins with Julia Thomas, and not Bicknell or Ely.
In Julia’s version of the story (as recounted by Sims Ely many years later), Jacob
Waltz and Jacob Wieser are two confederate soldiers during the Civil War who
become disgruntled with army pay and decide to travel to San Francisco for
better wages. They left New Orleans by ship and sailed through Panama to
California. Not finding much work, they drifted south to Los Angeles. From there,
they eventually wandered into Mexico where they spent time prospecting for
gold.
While in Mexico, Waltz and Wieser are accredited with saving the life of a
Mexican man named Miguel Peralta, whose grandfather (also Miguel Peralta)
had once worked rich gold mines in Arizona. The Mexican struck a deal with
Waltz and Wieser in which he would give the two prospectors complete rights to
work ‘his’ mine in exchange for accompanying him and a small party into
Arizona to work the mine one last time. Miguel explained that since the land of
the mines was now in U.S. territory, Mexicans could not legally transport gold
from there into Mexico. Using Waltz and Wieser as a cover, they could claim to
be Americans, should anyone question them en route.
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According to the tale, Waltz and Wieser first had to wait around some time
while Miguel gathered supplies and a crew before the trip to the mines could
begin. Once at the mines, they worked feverishly until they had acquired as much
gold as they could carry. Then, instead of handing over the mining operation to
the two prospectors Miguel insisted they accompany him back to Mexico. Once
again in Mexico, Miguel then demanded that both Waltz and Wieser surrender
the gold they had mined for themselves before being allowed to leave. Miguel
explained that they would have the mine to themselves but he would never be
returning. Reluctantly, and with little choice, the prospectors gave their lot of gold
to Miguel and left for the mine once again. Back at the mine (which was likely
several weeks journey), Waltz and Wieser found two Mexicans working the mine.
Mistaking them for Indians, Waltz and Wieser promptly killed them.
I have briefly outlined the above version for one purpose: to argue that
there was never enough time for Jacob Waltz (with or without Wieser) to have
participated in these adventures. I doubt Waltz ever went to New Orleans after
leaving Natchez, Mississippi (his last documented location prior to arriving in
California following the 1849–50 gold rush), and there is no known documented
record of Waltz having ever served as an enlisted man during the Civil War.
Waltz is documented as being in California during the 1850’s working as a miner.
The Civil War began in 1860, at which time Waltz is known to have been in
California. Shortly after being granted naturalization in Los Angeles in 1861,
Waltz is known to have traveled to the Bradshaw Mountains of Arizona where his
whereabouts are reasonably documented from then until his death in 1891. The
earliest date Waltz would have been able to encounter the Peralta gold would be
in the early 1870’s, after he migrated to the Salt River Valley in 1868, and not
during the time of the Civil War, nor prior to the war.
It can also be safely assumed that Waltz’s partner and friend, Jacob
Wieser, did not exist. Wieser appears nowhere in conjunction with Waltz at any
time in history, and the name ‘Jacob Wisner’ only appeared once in the deadletter sectio n of the Phoenix newspaper in 1896—five years after Waltz’s death.
Tossing all other stories of Waltz-with-Wieser aside, we are left with only Jacob
Waltz as the discoverer of the Peralta Mine. That conclusion also invalidates the
claim that Waltz had murdered for the mine. Why did Julia lie about the details
surrounding Waltz’s discovery of the mine? The most obvious answer to me is
that she needed to create a fantastic story about the mine’s riches in order to
justify her actions of selling her parlor to find the mine. To save face after her
failed attempt to find the mine, she divulged ‘information’ about the mine that
would excite anyone to have gambled the way she did, even at a high cost. As
the years went by she began selling fake maps to the mine. Julia’s story grew out
of proportion, since she needed to convince the prospective buyers that the mine
was real and would make the finder the richest person in the world. At that time,
no one cared what Waltz personal history Waltz had. Anything was possible and
believable. In fact, it has only been in recent years that serious researchers and
historians have tracked down documents showing where Waltz was during that
period of his life.
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As Julia’s tale grew more complex through the years, it is possible that
she, and perhaps even Rhiney and Herman, began to believe the tale she
concocted. And, by that point, even if she had been in possession of facts about
the mine, she could never tell anyone the truth, for she had lied to many a
prospector and cowboy who would have gladly killed her for cheating them. In
reality, it is unlikely that Julia Thomas ever had any more fact about the mine
than the general area in which it was located, to whom it once belonged, and the
knowledge of a few landmarks given up during conversations with Waltz over the
years she knew him. Bicknell, Ely, and others through the century all became
prey to Julia’s version of the story. From there, the details became more clouded
as each reporter on the mines arranged the ‘facts’ to fit their personal agenda.
It is Julia Thomas who must have been the first to claim that the mines once
belonged to the Peraltas, and that information could only have come from Waltz.
But how did Waltz learn the history of the mines to pass onto Julia if the WaltzWieser events in Mexico never occurred? There are two possibilities. Waltz was
known to have Mexican friends at his adobe at times, for he was accused of
murdering one of them, and then later absolved of the crime. Any one of these
Mexicans could have disclosed some of the local history to Waltz, which included
the tale of Peralta and the mining party that was wiped out by Indians. One of the
Mexicans who frequented Waltz’s home, I have recently learned, was a Peralta.
Waltz may have quietly concluded that the mine he found was one of the Peralta
mines. The other possibility seems more likely.
During the time of Jacob Waltz there were other tales of lost mines
circulating Arizona. One was the Lost German Mine. This tale was known at the
time and it possessed many of the elements in the story told by Julia. The Lost
German Mine did involve two German prospectors who became aquatinted with
a Peralta while in Mexico during the Civil War. This Peralta struck a deal with the
two prospectors which involved escorting a Mexican mining party into Arizona to
work mines that once belonged to his family. After mining all they wanted they
returned to Mexico and the two prospectors continued to work the mine until one
of them was attacked by Apaches and believed killed while the other had gone
for supplies. This event happened 20 years before the Waltz legend began. It is
likely that Julia, not having all the pieces to Waltz’s story, added fragments of the
known Lost German Mine story to her own, thus blending the two together.
Waltz’s connection to Peralta may have come about in this fashion, as well as
clues and details surrounding the mines.
Julia and Rhiney were the only sources from which all other versions of
the tale would be created, for Waltz had not so befriended any one else enough
to divulge the details about his mine (at least no one has yet announced such a
friendship), and he was apparently reluctant to give even Julia too many details. I
don’t personally believe that Waltz disclosed the long, windy tale of the mine to
Holmes and Roberts while he lay dying of pneumonia, nor that he gave his gold
away to them as the only ones who deserved it. So after shedding off the
exaggerations created by Julia and others over time, the only fact that is left in
the end is that an old prospector named Jacob Waltz had discovered a source of
rich gold somewhere near a tall peak in the Superstition Mountains. The source
of that gold came from the Sombrero Mines, which were once worked by the
Peraltas. With that in mind, and having established that the Sombrero Mines
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were real and are located at Red Mountain, the only conclusion is that Red
Mountain was where Waltz had found his Peralta gold sometime during the
1870’s. I, like others, find it difficult to believe that Jacob Waltz spent any time
alone in rugged Superstition Mountains we know today, much less weeks at a
time during the winter months. During the 1870’s, it was still very dangerous for
anyone other than Apaches to travel through the Superstitions, much less work a
mine all alone. It is doubtful that any man alone with a burro, firearms, and
supplies would have been ignored by the Apache. If Jacob Waltz ever claimed
his mine to be in the ‘Superstitions,’ I believe he was only referring to a general
region, as opposed to a specific location. As I stated earlier in the book
Superstition Mountain and the Salt River Mountains were the only ranges in that
area that had been given proper names at that time. Viewed from Phoenix, those
mountain ranges, including Red Mountain on the Salt River, would appear to be
a part of the same Superstition Mountain range. If we continue searching for the
real Lost Dutchman Mine of Jacob Waltz, it should begin at Red Mountain, the
location of the real Sombrero Mines. My bet is that this mine is still sitting where
Waltz left it on his last trip for gold, high on the western ridge of Arizona Dam
Butte, above the unfinished tunnel started by Peralta. I will also bet that when the
sun shines just right between the split in the rock of Es Carbadia, its afternoon
rays shine into the entrance of the mine, just as the legend claims.
Mistaken Identity?
Many of the old legends include a tall peak as one of the landmarks to locating the mines. Could Red Mountain (left) have
been the peak referred to instead of Weaver’s Needle (right)?
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1997:
Reflecting in a Sacred Land
Returning to Red Mountain alone in 1997 to do research for this book was
one of the most difficult events of my life, emotionally. I was assaulted with a
kaleidoscope of memories, both pleasant and not so pleasant, but all of them
committed to history and unchangeable. I was assaulted most by an awakening
of just how much my quest for the mines of Peralta had contributed to the
damage of my young marriage and the hopes we had of beginning our new life in
Arizona. Those emotions and memories made it difficult to focus on the book
project, as every segment of it was associated with some personal experience
from 1988.
I spent most of my time at the mountain sitting in my car by Pole #7, at the
same place I had parked almost daily a decade earlier during the fever of my
quest. Often I found myself crying. I missed Trudy. I missed the way we were
before I knew of Red Mountain, I ached from the mistakes that were made, and I
missed the passion that the quest had given me in those days. I have searched
for and found other mines and caches since the Red Mountain days, but I never
again knew the same inner fire that my search for the Sombrero Mines had given
me. Perhaps that’s a good thing. It was, after all, an obsession that took me ten
years to understand, and it may take longer for me to come to terms with the
consequences of my obsession. Indeed, the Peralta-Lost Dutchman Mine legend
has, historically, fueled more hopes and dreams through its mysteriously
addictive influence than any other tale of lost treasure and it has killed as many
hopes and dreams through those same forces. The story of the Lost Dutchman
Mine and the Sombrero Mines is not so much a story of gold found and lost;
rather, it has become the tale of all those who came searching for it afterwards.
Some, like Trudy, like Ruth’s family and many others, became casualties of the
quest before they knew they had even been involved.
In August of 1988, Trudy finally collapsed from stress and spent several
days in the hospital, then several weeks off work recovering. From then on, her
health was never fully stable. Even during that period, I spent more time at Red
Mountain than at home. Each new discovery seemed to lead me to another, as if
pulling me deeper and deeper into a dark maze of a dangerous and crumbling
mine shaft. It was early in August when a casual friend of mine, who had also
made some fascinating mine discoveries near Cave Creek, introduced me to an
author (whose name will go unmentioned) who was preparing a manuscript for
publication. His book focused primarily on the Peralta Tablets and the landmarks
carved into them. Naturally, he was interested in what I had discovered at the
sandstone region. At that time, I wasn’t protectively interested in it other than a
curiosity in the old writings, although I believed the Peralta Tablets to have come
from stone in that area.
On one hot Saturday afternoon, I agreed to take him out for a look, but
made it clear to him, and to my friend, that I would only disclose the sandstone
region and the writings there for his research. I would show him nothing more,
certainly nothing concerning the Sombrero Mines or the discoveries I had made
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over that last several months. I was learning to keep a tight-lip about the whole
affair, but at the same time I was still hungering to share my discoveries with
anyone who would listen. When we arrived at the location, we hiked the short
distance to where the writings were. I was a bit disappointed in his reaction; cool
and seemingly disenchanted. I thought he would see the same things I saw:
writings carved in the stone going back for at least a century or more, but after a
half hour of browsing around, he admitted it was interesting, but not likely
anything significant. Because of his attitude, I decided not to show him the arrow
and ‘JW’ in the gully, nor enlighten him to the image of the ‘priest.’
After a short goodbye, we parted ways. He left an impressive cloud of dust
down the rough dirt road toward the one that led back to Beeline Highway. After
the dust had settled, I left the sandstone area for a quick glance around the
mines, hoping to make more discoveries. While there, I saw two men hiking
down from the saddle toward me. They were still a good distance away, but I felt
uneasy and decided to get back to the car and go home. Once at my car, I
watched them for a while. They were taking turns scanning the cliffs and ridges
with binoculars. Occasionally, they would pause and stare in my direction. I felt
that it was more than curiosity on their part. In fact, something didn’t feel right
about them at all. By this time, the sun had settled behind Red Mountain, laying
down shadows of various hues across the canyon floor. I was drawn to look up at
the Es Carbadia glowing boldly in the last rays of waning light, watching from its
eternal perch the end of yet another day. Coyotes began to bark from their dens
in the arroyos and when I looked back to where I last saw the two men standing,
they were gone. I felt a chill run down my back followed by a flood of anxiety. I
don’t know why I felt the way I did, but I felt they were coming toward me. I
started the car and drove back out the narrow, shadowy road to the highway,
glancing in my mirror as if expecting to see someone racing up behind me. I
rarely passed by Red Mountain on the north, where it appears as the sitting
Indian, without pulling off the road to admire it, but this time I only wanted to get
home. My hands were visibly shaking. I hadn’t felt that way in all my memory and
yet I had no reason to, either. I had encountered many hikers at the mountain
over the months who were there to take in the peace and beauty, but I couldn’t
shake the feeling that those two men were not there for the scenery.
That night, I recounted the day’s events for Trudy while lying in bed. I told
her of the visit to the sandstone region with the writer and of the two men I saw
near the saddle before sunset, as well as the uneasy feelings I had afterward.
The temperature still hovered around the ‘century mark,’ making sleep difficult at
best—especially while floating in a heated waterbed (which I had grown fond of
during the icy cold winter nights in Utah). During a pause in my rambling, Trudy
added that our daughters had complained to her of being followed to school by
two men a few days before. In Mesa, there were always people walking the
streets to catch the bus or walk the dog or just to amble. Trudy had thought little
of it at the time. To elaborate, she said our daughters claimed to have seen one
of the same two men standing near the fence that divided our condo from the
grassy walkway a week earlier. For another two hours, we talked of what other
unusual events had occurred recently and attempted to make a connection
somewhere. There were phone calls during the day and sometimes at night,
during which where the caller would just sit and listen until we hung up the
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receiver. There was the car burglary in June, and one morning Trudy was leaving
for work she noticed that the screen to our bedroom window had been pried off.
On at least three occasions our youngest daughter had come down to our
room during the night claiming that someone was climbing around near her
window, which was on the second floor. After checking and finding nothing, we
had chalked it up to her imagination, or perhaps a cat or owl. Now it was
beginning to seem possible that something more real and, perhaps, dangerous
was invading our lives, and that it was directly related to my research at the
mountain.
Two days after I had shown that writer the sandstone area, I was again at
Red Mountain. I parked the car in my usual parking spot by the outcrop called Six
Poles and sat there feeling both the reward and the emptiness. The events of the
past months were catching up to me, and depression was setting in. Our bills
were cascading beyond our control, and filing bankruptcy seemed to be an only
choice. (We still had our home in Utah, on which we were paying a monthly
mortgage because renters were to difficult find.) My depression would soon meld
with another bitter emotion: jealousy. As I sat in my car, I saw another vehicle
coming down the dirt road. In his red truck was the writer who had snuffed at my
discoveries two days prior.
He drove past without noticing me, or if he had noticed, he didn’t care.
Two hundred feet or so later, he brought his machine to a dusty stop, got out and
began walking with purpose up the little canyon. I watched as he headed toward
the red outcrops and mines at the base of Arizona Dam Butte. I felt the rage of
betrayal boiling up within me and fought an urge to chase him down. My chest
went tight from anxieties, and all I could think of was that this writer was going to
steal my discoveries for his book. I didn’t wait around to see how far into the
canyon he actually hiked, but instead panicked, and drove immediately home to
tell Trudy. I later learned after reading his book (which I had autographed by him,
also) that he had not mentioned Red Mountain once.
I had become paranoid, which is a characteristic associated with gold
fever or obsession. My paranoia would become the proverbial straw that broke
the camel’s back. That night, in a desperate attempt to copyright myself as the
true discoverer of the Sombrero Mines at Red Mountain, I hastily penned out an
article showing some of my discoveries and sent it to Treasure Magazine, which
was, at that time, based in Twenty-Nine Palms, California. The writer’s guidelines
near the front of the magazine asked that writers allow up to six months for an
article to find an appropriate place in their publication. Having the manuscript at
least pending publication with them I believed would be adequate foundation
should I need to vouch for my claims as the discoverer of the mines. Jess
Publications, who published Treasure Magazine, must have stopped the press
after reading my manuscript, for in September I received a manila envelope
containing a copy of October’s edition and a check for $200.00. On the cover of
the magazine was a quote, “I Found the Fabulous Peraltas.” My article had been
published, and I celebrated with a huge sigh of relief and dinner with Trudy at
Tokyo Express. Now I could relax, I thought. But I could not have been more
mistaken.
The October 1988 edition of Treasure Magazine hit the general
newsstands in the last week of September. From that moment, our lives were
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turned upside down as the ringing of the telephone pounded our ears with
curious treasure hunters from as far away as England and Canada. Most wanted
more information, or inquired whether I would like to partner with them. Some
offered their equipment and expert advice on locating gold, while one individual
wanted me to front him $5000.00 to do a documentary on my discoveries. By this
time, I had landed a job working for an electrical company in Tempe. Both Trudy
and I were approached by strangers at our respective workplaces who hoped to
learn more about the mines and what I intended to do with the discovery. Even
then, I had no intentions of exploiting the mines or Red Mountain. It has been my
personal quest alone and I had not thought much beyond that. Both Trudy and I
loved Red Mountain, and if anything, we wanted the entire area protected as it
was.
Besides, any of my personal goals for the mines and mountain the entire
region still belonged to the Native American people. In the second week of
October, I had decided to hike into the desert on the north side of the mountain to
photograph the small mine I had seen through my binoculars earlier that year. I
always found peace of mind while hiking around Red Mountain and I desperately
needed the meditative medicine as my world crashed around me. I parked on
Beeline Highway where I had first stopped the day I discovered the curious
outlines and the bold image of the Indian back in January. I had hiked south for
about a half mile in, taking my time, as always, when I saw two men approaching
me from the west, appearing and disappearing as they hiked through the gullies
and over the short hills. One of them, a thick man of medium height, carried what
appeared to be a short-barreled shotgun. The other man dressed in a grayish
shirt and sporting a light colored cowboy hat, appeared to have a holster
strapped around his waist. They were both a good two hundred yards away when
I first noticed them, but I was suddenly overwhelmed with the same
uncomfortable feelings I had experienced when I had first seen then up near the
saddle a few weeks earlier. My gut impression at that time was that these men,
whoever they were, were hoping to follow me to the mines and tunnel. Believing
this, I began hiking north, back towards Beeline Highway where my car was
parked. As I hiked to the top of a small knoll, I heard a sharp crack in the air that
came from the west. A moment later the dirt on my right exploded. I didn’t need
to think about what had just occurred, I knew immediately: the bastards were
shooting at me!
Time and space became blurred as I ran terrified down the slope into a
gully. I never stopped running until I had reached Beeline Highway and my car.
Parked along side of my car was a faded green early-seventies Chevrolet truck,
which I assumed to belong to the same men. I unlocked my car, tossed my
camera on the seat, and after quickly looking out in the desert to see if the men
were still following me, I took an ice pick from under my seat, popped both tires
on the rear of their truck, and fled for home. I recall running through two red lights
on Country Club Drive, nearly being hit once. I turned off Country Club and
darted in and out of subdivisions hoping to elude the two men in case they were
still somehow following me. As my nerves and anxieties began to settle, I
became aware of something cold against the skin of my right leg. When I looked
down, I began to cry hysterically as I realized my jeans were soaked in blood.
The bullet had hit me and I believed I was going to die. I screamed vulgarities at
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the two unknown men swearing to kill them if I saw them again. (I was seldom
unarmed after that, neither in nor out of my home, and I continued to carry a
firearm for almost a year afterward.) Panicked, I pulled into a Smitty’s grocery
parking lot where I intended to call for an ambulance, rather than drive myself
any further. After I parked in a stall, I held my hand tight against my abdomen
hoping to keep from losing any more blood.
Several minutes had passed before I finally found enough courage to look
at the damage. My jeans near my lower right abdomen were frayed in a long,
horizontal line. I carefully fingered the rip and learned that it had not torn
completely through. Fragments of material still bound the rip together. I took a
deep breath and undid my button and zipper, then pulled wet jeans from skin.
Gently touching my flesh with my fingers, I discovered there was no gaping hole,
no hole at all, but the flesh was raw and sensitive to the touch.
Dabbing the blood away, I could see through teary eyes a distinct red
mark about three inches long. I realized that the bullet had only grazed me; the
damage to my jeans and flesh was caused by concussion of the passing bullet.
I sat in the parking lot trembling, cursing and rechecking the wound for some time
before having the strength to leave and continue home. When I arrived home, I
told Trudy what had happened. The tone of her voice was cool and collected
when she replied: “Go put an ice pack on it, then come sit down. I have to talk to
you about something.” I was taken aback by her disenchantment over the event,
but she herself was completely burned out by all that had happened over that
past several months. I took a shower and applied an ice pack as she suggested,
then returned to the kitchen where she sat quietly at the table.
After I sat down, she asked if I was all right, which I seemed to be, other
than visibly trembling. She took my hands in her own and gathered a deep
breath, then calmly made her announcement. “I put in a request to be transferred
back to Utah. Due to the circumstances and my health issues, they have agreed
to release me from duties in one week, at which time I am loading a U-Haul and
moving out of Arizona. John, I’ve had enough. I’m going home, and if you want to
be with me you can come with us, or stay here. It’s up to you, but it’s all
arranged.”
My world, our world, had collapsed and was imploding in on itself. I was
numb for the remainder of that week as we packed up our belongings in boxes.
Trudy had the phone disconnected to prevent any further calls from disrupting
her life, and conversation between us was null. I removed and packed my maps
and photos of Red Mountain and the Sombrero Mines from our bedroom wall,
then removed the décor which had been buried beneath it all for more than eight
months. We were both experiencing a death for which there was no resurrection,
no reconciliation. Our life and time in Arizona had come to a heartbreaking end
and my quest for the Sombrero Mines was primarily responsible for it. I don’t
recall the 16-hour drive from Mesa to Salt Lake City, but I do recall waking up on
the cold floor of our new, empty apartment the morning after we had arrived. It
was snowing that morning and, being exhausted from the trip, we had not
unpacked a thing after getting in at 3 a.m. except for a few blankets in which to
sleep. Trudy had already made coffee and had brought me a cup to help wake
my senses before beginning the arduous task of unloading the U-Haul. As I
sipped on the hot coffee and watched the silent, wet flakes of snow blanketing
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the ground beyond the living room window, I suddenly choked up on a lump that
was forming in my throat.
How did I get back here, I wondered. Where were the warm desert air,
fruit and palm trees, saguaro cacti and reddish-gray buttes? Where was Red
Mountain that had always been so clearly visible from my window before?
What had gone so terribly wrong? In that moment, it seemed it was only
yesterday that we had left Utah to begin our new life in Arizona, and yet this day I
was still here. Arizona, my quest for the Sombrero Mines, our wedding on my
dad’s small ranch in Hayden, and the events of the last year seemed only as a
dream that had never really occurred. I cried softly while staring through the
frosted window into the falling snow that was covering a vaguely familiar
landscape. I felt Trudy come up behind me and put her arms around my waist.
“I’m glad you came home with me, John”, she said.
We’ll go back one day, after things settle down and we’re more
organized”.
Trudy never did return to Arizona and Red Mountain and 8 years would
pass before I would stand again beneath the outcrops and rugged, vertical cliffs
of Red Mountain at the insistence of a friend. We were only there for one day in
December 1996, but it was enough to convince me that I wanted to share the
story and the discoveries I had made in 1988. After leaving that day, I returned to
Arizona by myself in February of 1997 to do research for the book, and left that
following April.
That was the last time I saw Red Mountain. I now live in Perth, Western
Australia with my present wife, Lia, our children and newborn baby. One day I’ll
take her to the United States, to Arizona and Red Mountain, and show her that
beautiful desert land and the outcrops she’s heard so much about during the
writing of this book. Perhaps she will feel the ghosts of the mountain the way
Trudy did and the ghosts of my past, as well, and understand why it was
important to me to purge the emotions and times of 1988 that still haunt me
before getting on with life. I’m sure she will understand, for even from 8000 miles
away in another land and time, the addictive, beckoning forces that surround the
legend of Sombrero Mines and Lost Dutchman Mines has begun to circulate in
her blood as she yearns to see that land where so many have lived and died for
its secrets. On second thought, maybe we’ll just stay right where we are!
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AFTERWORD
“When the Legend Becomes Fact….
….Print the Legend”
(From the motion picture ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’)
This book has presented a previously unknown history of a mountain and
its secret past—hopefully in an understandable and comprehensive manner. Are
the Sombrero Mines of the Peralta legend real? It appears they are, and thus, so
is the gold mine worked by Jacob Waltz still hidden, as I believe, somewhere
high on the ridge of Arizona Dam Butte above the steep, rocky ravine and
ominous glare of Es Carbadia, receiving the fleeting rays of sunset through a split
between two rocks. To date, no one to my knowledge has hiked the rugged
reaches of Arizona Dam Butte in search of that mine above the ‘unfinished
tunnel’, and due to hiking restrictions enforced in the area few will ever be given
that privilege; I wasn’t—neither by Reservation authorities nor the ‘spirits’ which
seem to haunt that region and who are content in keeping this secret of that mine
among their own kind.
The old digs found at Red Mountain, however, do not support the glamour
of the legendary Minas de las Sombreras, of Allen’s work. In fact, they’re barely
visible and were worked on a less-than-grand scale. It’s likely, also, that the
number of miners who worked the region were fewer than a hundred at any given
time, as opposed the ‘several hundred’ told of in many versions of the legend.
Though the evidence seems concrete that both the Peraltas and Sombrero
Mines were a real and legitimate part of Arizona’s history and that Red Mountain
is the location where the mining and events took place, there will still be some
who would rather believe the ‘legend’ more than the fact—for fiction is more
desirable than truth, even when proof is indisputable. These ones will continue to
dream of a fantastic mine hidden somewhere deep in Superstition Mountain
while the ghost of an old German prospector and his tired mule haunt the
forbidden canyons. When the legend becomes fact, indeed, print the legend. It’s
more colorful and romantic, surreal and larger than life—as easy to swallow as it
is to discard or embellish when convenient. I imagine also that some will detest
the notion that the mines were anywhere other than Superstition Mountain, much
less on a tiny Indian Reservation just an easy, short drive from the city of Mesa.
Nonetheless, the compelling evidence remains and is, even today—more than a
decade after their discovery—visible for all to see and judge for themselves.
It has been many long years now since I made those discoveries in 1988
and still more years since I began this book in 1997. It is now the year 2000.
Trudy and I have long since gone our separate ways; she involved with her
newest life and I in my own. This book is dedicated to her for the hardships she
endured in those days when our lives together were new and hopeful; hardships
brought on, perhaps, by a curse on an old mine, but more likely by the naïve
obsession of a young man desperate to find it. Even so, I imagine that there are
still times when the air blows just right and the scents of a beautiful and hostile
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desert drift to her senses from another time, invading her routine that she stops
and remembers Red Mountain—its majesty, quiet power and history discreetly
camouflaged from the busy world around it. I’m sure, too, in those times of
remembrance that she smiles, also, the way she smiled back then while sitting
upon a red boulder beneath El Sombrero and Es Carbadia taking in the land and
its strength, protected in the embrace of a stone ‘Indian’, while watching her
husband hike to and fro across the broad canyon floor.
I know I do—still remember, that is. I won’t ever forget those days: the
days when I, a simple boy from Utah, searched for the legendary Sombrero
Mines of Peralta at the expense of everything dear to me and nearly including my
life. I live in Australia now. Both fate and love has taken me far from my familiar
surroundings in the States, and farther still from Red Mountain and 1988. Though
many circumstances, including a recent heart attack, have stood in the way of
completing this work earlier, I have still been compelled to write it, to tell the story
of this mountain and what I found that year. Compelled, perhaps, by a silent
voice from the dusty past beckoning, if not yearning to be known and recognized
as fact instead of myth. In this busy life, with a new family and priorities, I
sometimes wonder if I’ll ever see Red Mountain again and walk among the
greasewoods and cacti of that sacred place where spirits still live. If not, it is the
hope of this author—who has experienced that land intimately—that Red
Mountain be protected from the ever-encroaching development eating away its
beauty and grace and history. May it be available for generations to see and
enjoy—not just for Sombrero Mines, but more for the sheer grandeur of this
mountain: for wildlife and flora, the images carved by nature into rock, and
especially for the magnificent image of the ‘Indian’, ‘Communing With Great
Spirit’, which IS Red Mountain itself, and who seems to sit in eternal prayer for
the protection and prosperity of the peoples who live with him upon the land
below.
For those of you who are curious about this land and its scenery, images
and history presented in this book, visit Red Mountain, but don’t disturb it.
Rather, look and see what it has to offer, listen to the tales on the wind, and feel
its antiquity. Please respect that you are on private property belonging to both the
Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Tribes and the Fort McDowell-Yavapai Tribes.
Obey all rules concerning trespass into the recreation area. Hiking, digging,
metal detecting, firearms and removal of anything from the Reservation are all
prohibited. There is an eagle nest on Arizona Dam Butte, which prohibits hiking
on or around that mountain, as well. Respect the land and those who own it or
stay away! If you do go, take the time to take it in. I’m betting you won’t be
disappointed. You, too, may come away knowing that Red Mountain is the home
of the real Sombrero Mines of Peralta, after all.
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Epilogue
Legends and Dreamers
Inspired by Arizona Highways®
Arizona…It’s a state of imagination,
built by myths, legends, and windy tall tales.
Someone once called it “the geography of hope.”
A magnet for people on the run from the law, family,
a failure of one kind or another, or in search of a dream.
Arizona has a history of desperate dream chasers with dreams and
schemes of gold, silver, land, cattle and salvation.
No doubt about it . . . Arizona always has been, and may always be, the
destination of legends and dreamers.
From ‘Legends and Dreamers’
© KAET TV CHANNEL 8
Tempe, Arizona
(reprinted with permission)
Visit KAET Online @ http://www.kaet.asu.edu/
Arizona Highways Magazine
http://www.arizonahighways.com/
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APPENDIX
Reference maps and notes
General area of Red mountain -Arizona Dam butte showing hypothetical mining trails
119
A possible Waltz map showing Red Mountain/Arizona Dam Butte.
Some of the symbols on the map are also found at Red Mountain.
This map is generally believed to show a location in the Cherry Creek region. Could it be
showing Red Mountain instead? The general layout of the Red Mountain region is similar.
There is also a mesa on the east side of Arizona Dam Butte called locally, Black Mesa
(Mesa Negro). Where this map shows the arrastras to be located along the river would be
approximately where Six Poles outcrop is located. Could the remains of smelters be
buried against Six Poles outcrop? (Map: Superstition Mountain Historical Society)
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The Heart Tablet and the Map Tablet placed together appear to create on map. Could the
Peralta-Ruth Map and the tablet map be showing the same Red Mountain area? (Left:
Photo by Dan Wylde; Right: Map-Superstition Mountain Historical Society)
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Deciphering the Peralta-Ruth Map
A: Miners would follow the main trail around the north side of Red Mountain until
they came to a spot where the shape of the mountain matched the shape on the
map. This would be the image marked as S. Cima on the map. S. Cima means
Septentrional Cima, or ‘Summit from/in the north’. This would be the point in
which the miners would turn from the main trail and head south, riding over the
narrow saddle between Red Mountain and Arizona Dam Butte, which would then
put them in view of the remaining landmarks.
B: Once the miners were in the canyon on the southern side of the mountain,
they would next look northward to see the back side of El Sombrero. Once El
Sombrero is found and matched according to the map, they would be in position
to travel due east across the canyon until they found Es Carbadia high on the
ridge.
C: With Es Carbadia found and appearing correctly, the miners would walk
northward until Es Carbadia was positioned atop the crest of the large red
outcrop with the hole or window (The slope upon which Es Carbadia appears to
sit on the map was never the side of a steep slope, but rather the outline of the
rock outcrop with a window or hole through it.)
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D: With Es Carbadia positioned upon the crest of the correct outcrop the tunnel
can be easily located directly beneath the outcrop.
The significance of the map was not to find the mines but, instead, to locate the
tunnel.
This map would not have necessarily been created for filing proper mining
claims, for even though the map is an outline of the region it did not mention any
of the mines, only the tunnel. A perfil mapa, or profile map, did not need to show
the location of the mines for filing, so why would the miners show the tunnel?
Further, this tunnel was not actually a mine or it would have been marked as
such. Yet something important must have been concealed in this tunnel for it to
have been marked on the map at all. In fact, the entire map was likely created in
order to find this tunnel again!
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“I Found The Fabulous Peraltas”
October 1988 Article
Written by author under his birth name: John Michael Plattner
Published in Treasure Magazine / Jess Publications / 10-1988
Legends of lost mines and hidden caches heavily taint the arid hot winds
of Arizona’s deserts. From legends of the Indians come the tales of Montezuma’s
great wealth of gold sealed in a cave by an earthquake ages ago. In more recent
times are found the lore of buried Jesuit treasures such as Doc Thorne’s “gift of
gold” by grateful Apaches, Geronimo’s magnificent hoard, and the good old tales
of Jacob Waltz and his famous Lost Dutchman Mine.
Among the many other tales that stir the dusty memories of lost canyons
and ageless saguaro cacti is that of Don Miguel Peralta. Legends tell of his
fabulously rich Sombrero Mines and his untimely death at what is known as
Massacre Grounds, toward the western end of the Superstition Mountains. Some
of the old yarns tell how he buried a vast amount of gold somewhere when he
knew an Apache attack was inevitable. No tale of the Dutchman is complete
without the mention of Peralta as being the possible original source of Waltz’s
gold - or Doc Thorne’s or Geronimo’s gold, for that matter!
Yet, anyone who knows these legends knows too of the ominous clouds of
speculation and doubt looming over their authenticity. Little, if any supporting,
evidence has ever been found, although some very convincing theories certainly
whet one’s adventuresome appetite. Did this Don Miguel Peralta really exist? A
recent discovery may prove he did - and his gold!
One of my favorite tales is that of Dr. Adolf Ruth, a man who searched for
two of Peralta’s legendary mines: one in the Anza -Borrego desert of California,
and one in the Superstition Mountain region of Arizona.
Dr. Ruth was following the clues of some old maps that were allegedly
given to his son, Erwin Ruth as a gift of gratitude by a descendant of Peralta-one
Juan Gonzales while Erwin was in Mexico sometime around 1913-14. Dr Ruth
was murdered in the Superstitions during the summer of 1931 while following
one of the maps he believed would lead him to the Lost Dutchman Mine.
The map, known today as the Peralta-Ruth Map, and the legitimacy of its
origins have been openly disputed for over fifty years. Personally, I have always
leaned in favor of its authenticity. Peralta is a common name in Mexico, and
there certainly could have been a miner in Arizona by that name at the time of
the legend. Also, Gonzales explained to this younger Ruth that the Peralta of his
family had been killed in an Indian attack while fleeing from their mines in
Arizona. The chances of this Gonzales stating these claims as a hoax with
nothing in it for him to gain are slim.
I have always enjoyed history and legends and often ponder about the
strange mysteries of the world. Since moving to Mesa, Arizona, I have had the
convenient opportunity to learn of and explore some of the legends, which
supposedly happened right near here-in the famous Superstition Mountains.
124
After spending a considerable amount of time reading all that I could find
on the old yarns, my common sense told me that they probably didn’t happen in
the Superstitions at all. (The Superstition region has been declared completely
devoid of any mine- able gold. After all, in all the years of vainly searching,
nobody had found a source yet.)
Simply as a weekend hobby, I began a search for the location referred to
on the Peralta-Ruth map. I concentrated my explorations around the areas that
were known to have produced rich gold mines. I figured, since the Superstitions
were the focal point of the legends, I would start in the nearby surrounding
mountains.
The goldfield, just west of the Superstition Mountains, have produced a lot
of gold in their time. Some of their mines are simply rediscoveries of old Spanish
workings.
There are also remains of Spanish structures at Government wells about 5
miles northward of Goldfield. The Goldfield Mountains have some unique rock
and land formations, and although some landmarks match the Ruth map
somewhat, those landmarks were never grouped together, and were often miles
apart. I believed that, if the map were real, the landmarks would be very close to
what the map suggested- given that artistic talents of the map’s creator (probably
Don Miguel Peralta himself).
It was in January of 1988 that my searching took a turn for the better and
graduated me from a weekender to an almost round- the- clock searcher. I was
driving along the Beeline highway when I glanced off at a beautiful captivating
mountain known locally as Red Mountain. From a given vantage point off the
highway, and from between two small hills, I saw something that sparked a fire in
my memory. There was something about the shape of Red Mountain.
Red Mountain, officially known as Mt McDowell on Geological survey
maps, can be seen for many miles away. About ten or so miles northwest of the
Superstition Mountains, it rises thousands of feet from the valley floor in a huge
threatening mass of flaming red rock and leans somewhat to the north as if it
once began to collapse under its own weight eons ago.
From the north its appearance changes drastically, becoming a tall
brooding pillar of frozen embers complemented by the stark ray of the Usery
Mountains behind it. There are Indian legends about the mountain that to me are
hauntingly believable in their own way.
By the time I had found a safe pull-over where I could see the mountain, I
found it no longer had the shape I had seen just a short half mile back. I turned
around and went back to the place I had just passed. I took the Peralta- Ruth
map from the notes in my briefcase and compared to the peak of Red Mountain
to the peak on the right of the map.
It was a very close match. Although Red Mountain was a bit broader than
the drawing, I believed it was only because of the size of paper that Peralta had
to work with and still get in all the details.
Off the upper left of Peralta’s peak is an extended line somewhat the
shape of an umbrella, or a hat. This fits nicely to the outline of the hat shaped
peak on the left of Red Mountain. The left slope of Red Mountain matches the
outline of the slope on the left side of the map- below “El Sombrero”. I then
remembered that the map was drawn from a south view looking north. The tall
125
peak was placed at the right of the map to represent a view from the north side
and to further disguise the map. However, it also matches the outline of another
peak on the south side of Arizona Dam Butte, and is in conjunction with the map!
The south side of Red Mountain can be reached by entering off the
Beeline Highway and into the Salt River Recreation Area (for a permit of three
dollars). The land is on the Salt River Indian Reservation. I had come here often
to escape the heat of the valley and enjoy this green, peaceful region where the
Verde and the Salt Rivers come together, but I never dreamed of looking for any
mining activity at Red Mountain.
As soon as I had pulled in view of the small alley, I could see the
similarities in the Map. Red Mountain matched the outline of the left side of the
map and the peak labeled “El Sombrero” was actually the south side of the hat
shaped peak from the other side. (I believe the “S” in “S Cima” to stand for
Septentrional, which means “northern” in Spanish. Cima means “summit”. It is my
theory that, when Peralta drew the peak on the map, he meant just that: Northern
Summit) Also, the smaller butte was before it just as the map had shown, and the
head shaped rock was high above looming over the valley as if guarding
Peralta’s forgotten treasure.
Within six months, and countless hours of research alone at Red
Mountain, I had discovered everything the map called for in the way of
landmarks: El Sombrero, the head-shaped rock (“ESCARBADIA”), the Peak, the
mines (indicated by circles along the trail), the cave, the hole (“HOYO”) and the
tunnel, which was well concealed but still where the map claimed it would be. I
had also discovered other mine workings and prospect shafts and the short deep
gulch that appeared on the map.
The cave was situated at the base of Red Mountain with a large opening
to the north. The cave is large enough to have accommodated a small stone
house at one time.
Two long, weathered and rotted wood beams were found just outside the mouth
of the cave and may have once belonged to the stone structure.
Although the cave can’t be seen until one is virtually upon it, there is a
large, round rock with the shape of a face looking east just above and north of
the cave. Most of the mines cannot be seen until you are directly upon them,
either.
There are many saguaros whose limbs were cut off pointing the way along
dimly visible trails to the mines and the cave. Old half-buried fire pits can be seen
now and then beneath the desert foliage. I have been into the recreation area
where I believed the arrastras to be located many times with a metal detector of
various types and depth ranges, yet still have not found any Spanish artifacts.
However, it was very common for the Indians to gather up any signs of miners
and bury them in the mines. Then they would eliminate any evidence anyone had
been there. The Indians, justly, did not care for anyone invading their land and
desecrating sacred ground.
I am currently trying to obtain permission to excavate the tunnel and cave
floor.
The earthquake of 1887 that ripped through the region could have
destroyed the remains of the stone house and possible buried historically
126
valuable artifacts in the falling debris. I believe that only through excavation can
the artifacts be found to support my claim.
Curiously, if Peralta had noted the mine locations with circles, why didn’t
he do the same with the tunnel and the hole, if they were mines, as many people
believe? And why had he so creatively disguised that side of the map unless the
tunnel contained something of great value to him? Could this tunnel be where
Peralta stashed the excess gold he couldn’t carry back to Sonora when fleeing
his aggressors?
The legend of Don Miguel Peralta is an interesting and colorful one
indeed- and now may prove to be more than just a legend. He had called his
mines “Las Minas Sombreras” but to the reverent God-fearing peons who worked
the mines, the Peak resembled more the Finger of God than a Sombrero. Could
it be that, when Miguel Peralta pointed out the smaller hat- shaped peak, the
peons thought he referred to the towering figure beside it and draw their own
conclusions? Very possible.
While there are many similarities between this find and the Dutchman
Legend, I have my own reasons for believing it is not the Dutchman’s cave or
mines. But my strong suspicions are that is it definitely the location referred to on
the Peralta- Ruth map.
Coincidentally, there is a region of pinkish-gray sandstone at Red
Mountain, which may be the origin of the “Peralta Tablets” now owned by the
Flagg Foundation (as of this writing) and on display at the Mesa museum. For
myself, the discovery and privilege to write about such a find is more than reward
enough for me as a writer and lover of history.
As for Peralta’s gold if there is any, it belongs to Red Mountain and the
Indian people, and it is my hope that the profits benefit both. Red Mountain is
beautiful and has an abundance of wildlife around it. In the many hours I have
spent alone up there I’ve learned to appreciate its many moods and changes and
have gained a new respect for the Arizona desert. It has become sacred to me in
its own special way, and I would hope to see it protected from the modern world
of progress closing in on it.
There are many legends of buried treasures and hidden wonders to be
explored. So, for us treasure hunters out there who search for these mysteries,
whether serious professionals or weekend hobbyists, keep a sharp eye, an open
mind; use common sense and, and above all, have fun doing it.
(Note: The article was written in haste, if not desperation, because, as you may recall, I was
solely attempting to copyright myself as the discoverer of the mines in the event my discoveries
were claim-jumped by someone. The majority of facts and information I was in possession of
were omitted from the article and while I believed Jacob Waltz did come to Red Mountain for his
gold I denied it in the article in an attempt to keep hoards of Dutchman Hunters from storming the
mountain, which was in vain. – John Ramses).
127
Suggested bibliography
• The Lost Dutchman Mine of Jacob Waltz, Part 1- The Golden Dream, T.E. Glover, Cowboy
Miner Publishing, 1999
• The Story of Superstition Mountain and the Lost Dutchman Mine Allen, Robert J. Pocket
Books
• Tales of the Superstition Mountains Blair, Robert L. Arizona Historical Society,
Tempe, Arizona, 1975.
• The Sterling Legend Canaster, Estee. Ram Publishers, Dallas, Texas, 1972.
• Echoes of a Legend Colten, James. Apache Printing, Apache Junction, 1977.
• The Curse of the Dutchman's Gold Corbin, Helen. Foxwest Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona
1990.
• History of the Lost Dutchman Monument Davis, Gregory and Kollenborn, Thomas J. Salt
River Project, Phoenix, Arizona 1988.
• The Lost Dutchman Mine Ely, Sims. McGraw-Hill Publishers, New York, New York, 1953.
• The Motif Index Granger, Byrd. University of Arizona Press, Tucson, Arizona, 1977.
• The Apache Trail Kollenborn, Thomas J. Orion Publishing Company, Fountain Hills, Arizona,
1982, 1984, 1986.
• Legends of Superstition Mountain Kollenborn, Thomas J. World Printing, Apache Junction,
Arizona 1995.
• The Peralta Cache Larson, Ernest. Mavern Company, Stockton, California, 1975.
• Famous Lost Gold Mines of Arizona's Superstition Mountains Morrow, Albert Erland. N.P.,
Kansas City, Kansas, 1957.
• Doctor on Horseback Palmer, Ralph Fleetwood. Mesa Historical Society, Mesa, Arizona,
1979.
• Quest For The Dutchman's Gold the 100th year Mystery Sikorsky, Robert. Golden West
Publishers, Phoenix, Arizona, 1983, 1991 (Fools Gold revised)
• On the Trail of the Lost Dutchman Storm, Barry. Goldwaters, Phoenix, Arizona, 1939.
• Gold of the Superstitions Storm, Barry. The Southwestern Press. Phoenix, Arizona, 1940.
• Arizona's Lost Gold Storm, Barry. Mollet- Storm Publishers, Quincy, Ill., 1953.
• Thunder God's Gold Storm, Barry. Southwest Publishing Company, Tortilla Flat, Arizona,
1945.
• Superstition Mountain: A Ride Through Time Swanson, James and Kollenborn,
Thomas J. Arrowhead Press, Phoenix, Arizona, 1981, 1982, 1984, 1988.
• The History of Apache Junction Swanson, James and Kollenborn, Thomas J. Goldfield
Press, Apache Junction, Arizona, 1990.
128
_____________________________________________________________
Suggested Web Sites on the Internet
Note: This list has been updated here as some links provided in the book are no longer active.
With the ever-changing nature of the Internet even these links will eventually become obsolete
over time. All links below are current and active as of the release date of this edition (February
15, 2005).
John Victor Ramses’ Web Sites
• Quest for Peralta Gold:A Hidden History of Red Mountain
Updates to this eBook, photos, more.
http://www.sombreromines.com Or http://www.jacobwaltz.com
• Arizona Legend – True Legend
History, folklore and legends of Arizona including people and places.
http://www.azlegend.com Or http://www.arizonalegend.com Or http://www.truelegnd.com
Additional Web Sites
• Dan's Personal Home Page for enthusiasts of The Lost Dutchman Gold Mine
Mystery http://home1.gte.net/ltdan
• Tale of the Lost Dutchman: bibliography with comments and chronology --Doug
Stewart http://www.lost-dutchman.com/dutchman/dutch.shtml
• Superstition Mountain Museum http://www.superstitionmountainmuseum.org/
• DEATH BED GOLD by Tom Kollenborn
http://www.ajpl.org/aj/superstition/1eath.htm
• IS THERE A LOST DUTCHMAN MINE? by Tom Kollenborn
http://www.ajpl.org/aj/superstition/1dm.htm
• MOUNTAIN GOLD by Tom Kollenborn
http://www.ajpl.org/aj/superstition/1gold.htm
• THE DUTCHMAN'S MINE FOUND by Tom Kollenborn
http://www.ajpl.org/superstition/1ulldog.htm
• East-Central Arizona History
http://www.geocities.com/~zybt/arizona.htm
• Desert USA http://www.desertusa.com
• Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community
http://www.saltriver.pima-maricopa.nsn.us
• Arizona Historical Foundation http://www.ahfweb.org/
• Scottsdale Historical Museum http://www.scottsdalemuseum.com
• Library of Congress http://www.loc.gov/
Note: To locate more information on the Lost Dutchman Mine, Jacob Waltz, or
any other subject from this book simple type your query into your favorite search
engine such as Google (www.google.com) or Yahoo (www.yahoo.com)
129
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Victor Ramses is a treasure hunter, historian, musician, writer, programmer
and artist who is now moving into the field of filmmaking and video creation. John
has traveled liberally in search of the answers to the mysteries of his world. He
has discovered buried Spanish gold, lost mines and ancient enigmatic ruins and
petroglyphs that tell the stories of travelers, like himself who shared the same
trails centuries before. He has also experienced first hand many paranormal
events and is actively interested in the pursuit of knowledge pertaining to mystery
and phenomena.
American born, John Victor Ramses makes his home in Western Australia with
his wife, Australian born Lia Patricia Ramses, their three children and an
assortment of pets. Together they own and operate Onetavera Enterprises which
consists of I-prodigy Advanced Communications, Symmetry Media, BadBone
Products, Haunted Australia, Anomalous Reality web site and Anomalous Films.
They also continue to write for various publications on subjects of history,
philosophy, mystery and phenomena and are preparing to release a DVD series
on the Ghosts of Western Australia – Volume 1.
Author in Manti, Utah, 1999.
Author on phone with Jeff Rense – Radio Interview
_____________________________________________________________
Author’s Web Site:
Jacob Waltz research, Updates, Information, Reader’s Comment, Color photos, more.
Web Site: http://www.sombreromines.com/
Contact John Ramses
Email: [email protected]
To locate other works or projects of John Ramses Search ‘John Victor Ramses’ in Google !
HTU
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Copyright Goetz K Oertel December 29, 2004
Origin of Legendary “Dutchman” Gold Miner Jakob WALTZ Discovered 1
By
Burkhart OERTEL 2 and Goetz K. OERTEL 34
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We submit that Jakob WAL(T)Z 5 , arguably the most famous gold miner in the old West
and also known as the dutchman 6 , hailed from Wuerttemberg, Germany. 7 Innumerable
legends surround this colorful character and his lost gold mine. Thousands of
adventurers searched for it in vain. Many lost their lives, some reportedly in mysterious
ways. It is said to be located in the Superstition Mountains just east of Phoenix, Arizona.
For some time gold was actually mined around Goldfield, Arizona but thought not to
have included the dutchman’s mine. 8 When Jakob WAL(T)Z died on 25 October 1891
at the age of 81, he had not divulged the location of his mine. Diverse clues and maps
that do exist are of questionable origin and authenticity. The origin of 48 pounds of gold
that were reportedly found at his deathbed is a mystery and helped spawn the legend of
the dutchman’s lost gold mine. The area in question has since been incorporated in “Lost
Dutchman State Park” – reputedly to discourage dangerous and illegal search activities.
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Extensive literature of books, articles, and essays about the legendary Dutchman and his
mine has appeared in the USA. The Superstition Mountains Historical Society 9 of 1979
is dedicated to the discovery and preservation of facts and legends of the region including
especially Jakob WAL(T)Z. That includes the most complete collection of literature
about him and his mine.
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Why has the origin of this notorious character remained in the dark until now? His life
history from immigration in 1839 until 1891 is reasonably well known and documented
but his origin is usually referred to only as from Germany, without date or location of
birth. 10 Various mentions of age allow his year of birth to be reliably determined as 1810.
His name does not appear in the German registry of emigrants. 11 Where, then, should a
search for his origins begin? The area near Nagold was always a good guess because the
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1
For a German language summary see Burkhart OERTEL, Suedwestdeutsche Blaetter fuer Familien- und
Wappenkunde, Stuttgart, in press (2004 or 2005). Under consideration for publication in
“Wuerttembergische Biographien”, a compilation of biographies of famous Wuerttembergers, to be
published 2006
2
Prof. Dr., Neubiberg, Germany
3
Ph. D., Potomac, Maryland
4
The authors are sons of the late Egon OERTEL, genealogist, Oehringen, Germany
5
Spellings WALZ and WALTZ were common and frequently interchangeable in 19 th century Germany.
In the US, the Dutchman’s name is usually spelled WALTZ. Note that the English pronunciation of
“WALTZ” is closer to the German sound than the English pronunciation of WALZ. US officials would
therefore have tended to spell the name with the letter “t” when they heard it announced
6
Germans were often called “Dutchmen” because they referred to themselves as “deutsch” – the German
word for “german”
7
Formerly a kingdom within Germany. Today part of the State of Baden-Wuerttemberg in the Federal
Republic of Germany
8
Goldfield is now a ghost town
9
headquartered in Apache Junction, Arizona 85217
10
Not even from his grave stone
11
This is presumably because, as we will show below, he did not formally emigrate from Germany
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surname is common there. Indeed, some authors 12 gave nearby Oberschwandorf as
origin. One of us (BO) refuted that attribution by examining the Ortssippenbuch 1314 for
Oberschwandorf.
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Might the passenger list for an Atlantic crossing provide the answer? The literature
regarding WALTZ’s passage is contradictory. One of us (GKO) found Jakob WAL(T)Z
in the passenger list submitted for the “Ville de Lyon” from Le Havre, France when it
arrived in New York on 13 July 1839 15 after a journey of about six weeks. The partly
illegible list contains several hundred names, grouped by nationality or origin. The last
group of 23 persons from Wuerttemberg shows this last entry: “Jacob WALTZ, 28 years,
farmer, from Wuerttemberg”. Others in this group of Wuerttembergers are surnamed
DOLDE, EITH, and STEHLE. They have no known connection to WAL(T)Z. The list
gives no clue to origin within Wuerttemberg.
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Since the surname WAL(T)Z occurs in most of Wuerttemberg – not only Nagold – a
comprehensive search would be prohibitively time-consuming. Wouldn’t it be nice to
have a general index of all persons in Wuerttemberg? Fortunately, a sizable though not
complete index of this kind exists. 16 It contains 5,000 entries WAL(T)Z that include one
Jakob WAL(T)Z who went to America; born 2 November 1810 in Vohenloher Hof 17 ,
parish Unterheinriet in the district of Abstatt. His full name is Jakob Friedrich. The
church’s family register shows Jakob underscored, as his calling name. It also notes that
he went to America in 1839.
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Name and years of birth and emigration check, but is he the same Jakob WAL(T)Z, the
legendary Dutchman? To answer this question, one of us (BO) reviewed estate records
that were prepared after Jakob WAL(T)Z’s parents passed away. These records are
preserved in the well ordered archive of the community of Abstatt. 18 His father, Andreas
WAL(T)Z, lessor of the Vohenlohe Hof , died 30 December 1843 19 . The authorities
considered his estate on 27 February 1844. 20 The proceedings list among the heirs
“Jakob WALZ, born November 1810, single, “Oeconom” 21 , traveled to America in
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12
For example, the informative and well written German translation by Tom KOLLENBORN “Legenden
der Superstition Mountain (sic!)” (“legends of superstition mountain”), Superstition Mountain Museum &
Historical Society, Apache Junction, Arizona 2001, copyright 1982, is based on an article by Ralf
GROSSMANN and Jennifer L. STARK. It identifies Jakob Waltz as born near Oberschwandorf,
Wuttenburg (sic! Wuerttemberg) in 1810 (p. 3)
13
The complete compendium of all families in that town as compiled from parish records and other
sources
14
B. OERTEL, “Ortssippenbuch fuer Oberschwandorf 1690-1935”, “selbstverlag” 1992
15
US National Archives, Washington, DC, microfilm roll M237, #39
16
Compiled by Egon OERTEL, Burkhart OERTEL, and others since the 1950s and maintained by the
privately owned and operated “Historisch-demographische Dokumentationsstelle fuer
Suedwestdeutschland” (archive for historical demographic documentation for southwestern Germany),
Brunhildenstr. 4B, D-85579 Neubiberg, Germany
17
A sizable farm
18
Gemeindearchiv beim Buergermeisteramt, Rathausstr. 30, D-74232 Abstatt, Germany, www.abstatt.de
19
Document #A910
20
Erbverhandlung, literally estate proceedings, usually included a detailed inventory of the estate and its
distribution among heirs
21
German language term of the 19 th century, person educated in business administration (businessman)
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1838 22 without formally emigrating, now living in New Orleans” 23 . That is consistent
with US sources about the Dutchman. Various notes state that Jakob left Vohenlohe on 2
May 1839, that his father gave him 250 24 Gulden 25 for the voyage, and that on 3 May
1839 he bought supplies in Heilbronn, including a double barrel shot gun 26 , a fur cap, 55
lb of meat products 27 , a money belt, etc. On the previous day, on 1 May 1839 28 , he had
picked up a wooden travel chest 29 that had been made for him by master carpenter
Friedrich LUST in Flein near Heilbronn. Jakob WALTZ bought and signed for these
supplies but did not pay for them. Instead, father WALTZ appears to have paid for them
and for at least 141 Gulden and 33 Kreuzer in additional charges 30 Jakob had run up on 3
May 1830 before he left Heilbronn. These became a lien on the dutchman’s share of his
father’s inheritance and are therefore included in these proceedings. In all, his father
provided a grub stake totaling 645 Gulden 31 , 125 in paying his education at Hohenheim,
250 in cash at the time of departure, and the remainder in paying for charges from his
shopping spree in Heilbronn.
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The estate proceedings after his mother’s passing took place on 19 October 1852. 32
Again, eight years later, Jakob is mentioned among the heirs, this time as living in
California. 33 That, too, is consistent with US sources about the Dutchman that indicate
that he went to California in 1849 – a Forty-Niner!
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22
sic! should be 1839
loc. cit, II, 2; 2 nd page. “Jacob WALZ, born 1810, November, single, Oeconom, 1838 left for North
America, without formally emigrating, and located in New Orleans”. The document identifies Wilhelm
MO(T)ZER, citizen and businessman in Abstatt, as Jakob WALTZ’s “curator” (agent, authorized
representative)
24
loc. cit, #5, p. 33 rd page
25
a common form of currency, usually in form of gold coins. 250 Gulden were then a considerable sum
26
loc. cit, #11, 39 th page, paid for on 16 July 1839 by father WALTZ. The gun was bought from Heinrich
HELLMANN, master armsmith in Heilbronn
27
loc. cit, #8, 36 th page
28
loc. cit, #9, 37 th page
29
the travel chest, newly made by carpenter master Friedrich LUST in Flein near Heilbronn, measured 4
Schuh (shoe, approximately 1 ft) long, 2 Schuh 1 inch wide, 2 ½ Schuh “deep” (high). ¼ nails (uncertain
measure, probably lb) and ¼ half-nails had been used to make it. Cost 4 Gulden and 24 Kreuzer for labor
and materials. Further, master tailor NESPER charged 36 Kreuzer for two new carrying straps for` the
chest
30
loc. cit, #7, 34 th page, states: “received from Mr. Andreas Walz on the Fohenloher (sic!) Hof as
payment in full of our reminder bill, 144.33Gulden (hundred and forty-one Gulden .33) in cash, confirmed
in Heilbronn, 3 July 1830, signed Brothers Vict(?)”
31
loc. cit, #5, 33 rd page. For comparison, his father’s total estate was 9,092 plus credits due from heirs.
The five brothers each received 2,713 Gulden minus amounts previously credited to them. For Jakob, the
net was 2,713 minus 654 Gulden for a net of 2,058.58 Gulden. This share was left for him with his mother
as trustee. When she died, this amount was still outstanding as a credit to the Dutchman. An incremental
paternal inheritance of 63.6 Gulden was added for a total of 2,122.05. In addition, he was credited 2,185.46
Gulden from his mother’s estate, for a total credit of 4,337.51 Gulden. In addition, he was part owner of
real estate including 1/5 of 4 Morgen. A later entry suggests that the credit expired (?) and, if so, would
presumably not have been claimed nor received by the Dutchman (loc. cit, 15 th page, left leaf, bottom, left
margin. There is a reference here to Aktei Theilungen 3 (?), 191; Inventurband 60, fasz. 67. We have not
yet located that document)
32
Document #A508 (sic! – apparently the numbering system had changed since February 1844)
33
loc. cit, II children as heirs, 2 nd page of this long document. “Jacob WAL(T)Z, Oeconom, whose town
of residence is not known, born 15 November 1810 (sic! – according to baptism records 2 November
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To our knowledge the dutchman’s exploits in America and Jakob Waltz’ roots and
references to him in Germany are fully consistent. We therefore propose that Jakob
WAL(T)Z of Vohenlohe in Wuerttemberg and the legendary dutchman are one and the
same person.
What may have caused him to leave Germany for America? Certainly not poverty, and
perhaps not a falling out with his family whom he apparently kept informed about his
whereabouts at a time when communications across the Atlantic were few and difficult.
His parents’ family was well to do and of good social standing. An older brother died in
Amsterdam in 1835 at age 28. Another brother Fritz, only 17 months Jakob’s senior, was
Sekretaer 34 to the Countess von LANGENSTEIN in Karlsruhe and later advanced to
Director of a Domaene 35 . One younger brother Christian became innkeeper at the
Waldhorn in Abstatt and another younger brother Johann 36 owned a farm in
Unterheinriet. His only sister Christiane married Johann Nicolas PREISS at Wildeck, a
high ranking official for a prince. 37 Jakob’s uncle, Johann Stephan WAL(T)Z, got
married in Paris in 1805. That may explain why Jakob sailed from Le Havre, not a
common port of departure for German emigrants to America.
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The estate documents show, that Jakob and his brother Fritz completed educations as
Oekonom at the Schlossgut Hohenheim near Stuttgart. Why did Jakob apparently not
make use of this education, surely a highly valuable and unusual asset at the time? He
may have been a loner to travel to America, to crisscross the USA from New York to
New Orleans, California, and back to Arizona, and to have remained single and childless
as far as is known. He chose adventure over the orderly and presumably prosperous path
that had been preordained for him. He ventured alone, ultimately struck gold, and
became a towering figure even within the legendary worlds of gold and the American
west. There was nothing usual or ordinary about this character. He possessed unusual
strengths and, surely, unusual weaknesses as well. Is his life an inspiration? Was he a
gold miner or also a gold digger in the eyes of his parents and siblings? Either way, he
was an individualist who dared to seek success outside normal bounds, “outside the box!”
In his own way, he was a winner!
For additional genealogical information about Jakob WALTZ see the appendix.
1810), because he emigrated to America many years ago and is said to be in California, who had been
represented by Wilhelm MOZER at the proceedings for his father’s inheritance (as well)”
34
Literally secretary, used here in the sense of Secretary of a corporation, cabinet, or other significant
entity
35
A sizable state-owned farm or estate
36
this brother’s full name is “Johann Jacob”. There is no confusion with the emigrant because the
document underscores “Johann” as the brother’s calling name whereas the emigrant’s name shows “Jacob”
underscored
37
Fuerstlicher Revierfoerster. “Fuerst” is a prince; “Revier” a sizable forest area, and “Foerster” is
forester. A Revierfoerster for a prince was a position of considerable responsibility, trust, and importance
as it included management of wildlife and organization and conduct of hunts for the prince
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