9/22/08 Javelina Tales & Jerome Impromptu Ghost Walk Part II

“If you have any questions,” I told the gentleman, “just ask.”

He looked up from the bin of matted landscape photos. “Have you ever seen a javelina?” (He pronounced “javelina,” with a hard “J” like “Java,” but without the caffeine. That’s a common mistake. “Javelina” is actually pronounced with a soft, roof-of-your-mouth, Spanish “J,” like “Hamburger,” without the beef, or like “Jose.” But I experienced a momentary self-debate on whether or not to correct the speaker. On one hand, I’m not one to correct people; it’s difficult to do without implying criticism; on the other hand, I did want to help him out so that, if he were to have need to use the word later on, perhaps in front of someone less tourist-friendly than myself, he wouldn't have his mispronunciation pointed out. So I tried to do it discreetly. I conjured up an enthusiastic voice, and said, “Yes, sir, I’ve seen quite a few. “Javelina --” and I said this with the Hamburger “J” -- “are cute from a distance, but up close they can be nasty, even intimidating.” See how I cleverly corrected the gentleman without seeming to even notice his error? I don't know. Seemed to work. Anyway, the gentleman’s question reminded me of some of my favorite Javelina stories, and since this is blog day, I'll pass a few your way:

1. Let’s Get Soaking Wet: A local friend had just bought a house located on a large, private lot south of town. His first evening in his new home, he decided to take an inaugural dip in the pool. Weary from unpacking boxes, he dove in and swam to the shallow end where he reclined against the lip of the pool, closed his eyes and allowed the warm, chlorinated water to lap at his chin. Time passes quickly when you’re this relaxed. The sun began to set. Rousing from a half-sleep, my friend heard something move in the bushes at the perimeter of his yard. He crooked his neck to get a look, but it was dark now, and he hadn‘t turned on the pool lights. All he could make out were the shadows of peach trees and scrub brush. Wait. Something moved. Several somethings. Suddenly, a pack of thirty javelina pour out from the bushes -- grunting, oiking, slobbering --, cactus thorns in their snouts, beady eyes, sharp tusks catching the moonlight. Pretty dramatic, huh? Needless to day, my friend practically walked on water: bolted out of the pool, ran into the house and locked the door.

2. This Little Piggy Went Wee! Wee! Wee!: Just heard this one a couple nights ago: A different friend mentioned that, several years ago, he and a date were “making out” in the back yard after dark. Hummmm. Quickly as the Saudi Morality Police, a team of javelinas stormed out of the bushes. Luckily, the javelina were more interested in escaping something that had spooked them than in enforcing purity codes. The young couple froze in their embrace and allowed the javelinas to gallop past. (OK, javelinas don’t gallop, but I like the image.)

3. Mob Scene: Yet another friend likes to walk his dog along Sedona's hiking trails each morning as the sun is coming up. One morning, the dog caught the scent of a javelina and took off independent of his master. Concerned, my friend ran after his dog. When my friend finally caught up, he found his pet surrounded by angry javelina. The pig-like rats rushed forward -- like the scene in The Color Purple where the mob attacks Oprah -- tusks lowered, and gored the medium-sized dog over and over. The owner kicked, yelled and flailed his arms, finally chasing away the attackers. The dog survived, but had to have over a hundred stitches.


Jerome Ghost Walk Part II. (For Part I, see this blog entry from May 19th of this year.)

Went out to Jerome this past weekend. Jerome is northern Arizona’s most eccentric ghost town. By the book, it’s not really a ghost town -- population today is somewhere between 300 and 600; however, at one time, Jerome was a boom town, the second largest city in Arizona, with a population of over 35K. In 1894, The New York Times dubbed Jerome the “wildest, wickedest town in the West.” Today, Jerome is literally a shell. Most of the buildings are roofless and falling off Cleopatra Hill. The ground, itself, is a shell. Just under the surface, hundreds of miles of tunnels riddle the mountain where, by the turn of the century, a billion dollars worth of copper was taken from the ground. Equally infamous for it’s western brothels and gambling establishments, the streets of Jerome are maze-like with hidden stairways and alleys. Saturday night, after karaoke at Mile High restaurant, my friend, Dennis, who grew up in Jerome, led a group of us on a moonlight walking tour. A chilly, ghostlike breeze moved with us. Moonlight illuminated the uneven sidewalks. The scent of wild herbs and grasses filled the steep alleyways. Occasionally, a shooting star lit a dark corner of the sky. This was my second moonlight tour of Jerome, and I discovered plenty of new and creepy corners this time around. I don't recommend exploring Jerome at night without a guide, as you're likely to end up tresspassing through someone's yard, but I highly recommend a daylight walkabout, or Jerome's October ghost tour, sponsored by the City. If you are visiting Sedona this month, don’t forget to take a side trip, just west of Cottonwood, to Jerome. It’s one of my favorite spots in the world.

Note1: All Jerome photos featured in this week’s blog are courtesy of Dennis Mead. (He's the dude hula hooping.) Thanks Dennis. Snoopy Rock photo courtesy of Tom Kelly. Thanks Tom.

Note #2: My friend, Greg Lilly, recently published a novel about a mail-order bride who journeys to Jerome during it's wild west days. For into about the novel Under A Copper Moon, by Greg Lilly, check out my Ghost Tour #1 Blog (5-19), or see http://www.greglilly.com/.