Payson, July 10-11, 2024
Drove up to Payson yesterday morning to meet the mayor and drop off books to the Rim Country Museum. Gave a talk in the Sawdust Theater at 4:30 on How to Fail More. Made my point, sold 13 books, had dinner at the casino with the Chamber folks and Elizabeth Fowler's crew, had the ribeye and two glasses of a fine High Country Cabernet. Solved some life, got to bed at nine. Off to Star Valley this morning to get a haircut, then on to Pie Town and Datil, landing at the Ellis Store in Lincoln, New Mexico around sunset.
Meanwhile, our route today will take us across the path (east of Springerville) of one handsome dude in history who I have always admired. Apparently he was too good looking for his own good.
(aka, Esteban, Estevánico, Estebánico, Mustafa Zemmouri, Esteban de Dorantes, Stephan Durantes, and Black Stephen)
Anyway, that is the Kingman version. Here is the eastcoast, historical record version: In 1539 the viceroy of Mexico ordered the handsome slave and pathfinder, Estevan, to lead the Catholic friar Fray Marcos de Niza on a mission to investigate the rumors of cities of gold. Setting out on March 7, the two men and a party of "retainers" headed north into what became the modern-day states of Arizona and New Mexico. On March 21, Marcos sent Estevan ahead and, depending on who you believe, Estevan seemed to enchant the ladies of all the pueblos he visited and had remarkable success with them. On May 21, 1539, a messenger came riding in to tell Marcos that Estevan had been killed near the Zuni pueblo for one of two reasons: he spooked the Zunis with his death rattle, or, he seduced the wrong native woman and paid for it with his life.
Four centuries later, Chuck Berry said he could relate.
"Hey Satan, look at me, I'm on my way to the Promised Land."
—AC/DC, Highway to Hell
Kokopelli to Estevan, ‘Hold my beer.’
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