It really feels like something I read or saw on a screen somewhere. Was it a real experience, a hallucination, a nightmare or just a 'bad trip' for me, although I never tried recreational drugs until I was frankly old. Who knows?
Again from my post-event notes, about September 17, 1967
Did we really ‘camp’ there in the canyon for
two weeks or was there some interim place? I draw a blank. I have a few photos
but they give no time frame. I do recollect almost constant harassment. We were
“trespassing,” the health department was worried about sanitation; the boys
were required to start school, at least Alex, and Charlie Mike was not eager or
willing to quit yet. The horses were scrutinized daily for proper care and
signs of neglect or abuse. I dimly recall arguing fiercely they were indeed
cared for with feed, water and exercise daily and did not need to be impounded
for their welfare. There was a lot of harrassment and many official and private citizens came by with comments, threats and some demands. A few offered help, a very few. We could not stay there indefinitely!
Aunt Roxie came during the interim, loudly
and profanely furious. She negotiated for a house up in Mescal Canyon below
Jerome, but it had no place for the horses so Dad would not consider it.
Everything was still unsettled when she had to go back and start her school
term. Arguments raged. Finally on September 14 we began trooping down to
Bridgeport, first moving the animals, by my count seven equines and one small
burro. The family would then “move” into a barn at a place where Charley Bryant was or had stayed. I guess there was some space for the horses on the small farm. But
we had two studs and five mares, all bunched together. Luckily no mares were in season.
The next day Roxie drove me back to Flagstaff
since the final deadline for registration was getting very close. I was so
grateful for her help because I had begun to worry how I would get there. I did
not even have bus fare. If I did not register on time, my aid would disappear
and a year would be wasted. I was also very thankful most of my things were safely
stored in Flagstaff and took a few more personal items back with me. Later I
remembered a box in the shed Charlie Mike and I had used for private storage. It was left behind but was just old souvenirs, clothes and some old writing. I
missed a few things, but no great loss. Of course the drama was far from over
although I was removed from the center of it again and only had to put one foot
back down there two out of the seven days each week at the most.
On September 16 and 17 I ran around frantically to organize the second year of my higher education. I moved into Campbell Hall and had my stored things delivered; I got my next group of classes approved—thank you, Dr Downum—and registered, collecting my checks without any problem. I was amazed my stipend had been raised to $800 a semester.
Photo: Campbell Hall, the south side of North Quad, which became my new home starting on September 15 when Aunt Roxie delivered me there. Really the whole 67-68 school year it was the only home I had because the Morgan family--my immediate family--was soon scattered east and west. Only I was still in Arizona--I and the horses I was involved in finding homes for. That tale will emerge in the next few weeks.
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