“Flagstaff, Arizona; don’t forget Winona; Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino . . . .”
The trade route, of course — at least its modern incarnation — is the old Route 66.
I used to know the words by heart, from watching the old TV show as a kid. Early on, I thought George Maharis was the good-looking one (followed, of course, by Glenn Corbett), but he couldn’t act. Ultimately, it was the ordinary-looking but sensitive Martin Milner who wound up stealing my young heart, the deal sealed probably mostly by way of the mermaid episode.
At any rate, I grew up knowing the lyrics to the Nelson Riddle Orchestra’s popular tune, and used to fantasize about driving it myself in a ‘Vette. From Chicago, originally named by our people and so close but yet so far — it’s a city I wouldn’t see until well into my twenties — all the way to the Santa Monica Pier and an ocean that seemed so exciting, so novel, so unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Back then, I had no idea that the Arizona leg of the trip was an old trade route of gems and precious metals. [For that matter, there are small turquoise deposits toward the end of the route, in California’s San Bernadino region.]
We’ve covered a couple of the major Arizona turquoise mining operations already — Morenci and SleepingBeauty/Globe. Today, we’ll take a look at Kingman turquoise.
KINGMAN — THE TOWN AND THE TURQUOISE
Kingman is a town in the northwest quadrant of Arizona, between the Cerbat and Hualapai Mountain ranges, not far from the point at which the borders of Arizona, Nevada, and California meet. Today, it’s the Mohave County seat, with a 2010 population listed as a little more than 28,000 residents, although the population of the greater Kingman area (including two other towns in the region) is some 66,000. It sees significant tourist traffic and trade, partly due to its identity as a stop on the Old Route 66; partly because of its location smack in the middle of the Old West and Indian Country as brought to you by generations of spaghetti Westerns; and partly because it’s yet another stop on the tour of Arizona mining and minerals country.
The area, of course, was Indian Country long before the first European ever conceived of an “other side of the world.” And the local indigenous population knew well its natural gifts: they were the first turquoise and metal miners in the area, by a very long measure. Stone tools dated back at least to 600 C.E. have been found in the turquoise veins and pits in what is now the Kingman area, and it’s clear from the historic and archaeological record that the regional Native peoples used the area and its mineral resources long and well.
What would one day become “Kingman” did not land on settler radar in any significant way until 1857, when the U.S. War Department ordered Naval Lieutenant Edward Fitzgerald Beale, attached to the U.S. Army Corps of Topographical Engineers, to map and build a road “across the 35th Parallel.” The goals were no doubt the creation of an easy commercial line, ease of prosecution of the government’s Indian Policy, and facilitating the Manifest Destiny of white colonial settlement, probably in roughly equal proportions. Lt. Beale was also the officer charged with leading the experimental and famous (or perhaps infamous, since it didn’t take) “camel expedition,” leading a caravan of camels to test the hypothesis that they would serve as more efficient and effective pack animals in the desert Southwest than horses.
Lt. Beale mapped the route on his 1857 expedition, then returned in 1859 to oversee the building of the road. The road has long since been abandoned and replaced with modern highways, including Route 66 and the more modern Interstate 40, but the ghosts of its dusty track can be found in the area of White Cliffs Canyon. Initially, what would become Kingman was nothing more than a siding of the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad. That began to change in the 1870s, as white settlers seeking gold, silver, copper, and other precious metals began invading the area, traditionally inhabited by the Hualapai and other peoples, with the aim of extracting as many riches from the earth as possible. Mining camps soon dotted the desert landscape, and the area centered around Beale Springs (named for Lt. Beale, of course) was no exception. In 1880, railroad surveyor Lewis Kingman brought his operation through the area and established the railroad right of way on behalf of the Atlantic and Pacific. By 1882, the local newspaper was reporting the founding of a town called “Kingman” (named for, and probably by, Lewis himself) in October, with construction of essential businesses announced for November of that year.
THE TURQUOISE KING
As we’ve discussed before, in cultures around the world, turquoise was a stone of kings and leaders. It’s been found on old sarcophagi and adorning crypts in ancient Egypt. Various cultures have imputed spiritual powers to the stone, and it has a long and storied history as both adornment and protective talisman.
Sometimes, though, the kingly connection is a bit more mundane.
Kingman sprang up just southeast of the Mineral Park Mining District, another copper mining operation. In the 1880s, one of the white miners, James Haas, realized that turquoise was present in the copper deposits, and the mining of turquoise became a goal in itself, in addition to the copper and other metals in the area.
In 1949, a man named Lawrence W. (L.W.) Hardy moved to the Globe area of southern Arizona to work as a shovel operator for the Castle Dome Copper Mine. Attracted by the turquoise he found there, he began mining it himself and selling it to area Native artisans. Castle Dome turquoise is still on the market today; most of what I’ve seen is a clear sky blue with a slight translucent quality, much like Sleeping Beauty turquoise, but with more of a matrix, usually wide-set black webbing (probably pyrite). When the government put the turquoise veins in the Kingman area up for bid, L.W. Hardy submitted the winning bid on the lease (as well as for the turquoise deposits at the Castle Dome and Sleeping Beauty mines), and he and his wife moved northwest to Kingman.
Hardy was known for his marketing skill (and his ambition), and he is credited with turning the town of Kingman into the so-called “Turquoise Capital of the world.” His efforts earned him the label “The Turquoise King,” and so he was known until his death in 2003 at the age of 92. He had remained involved in the turquoise trade on a near-daily basis until some seven years prior, around 1996 or so.
CONTEMPORARY KINGMAN TURQUOISE
Kingman turquoise is not, generally speaking, especially valuable. Much of what is mined is low-grade stone, suitable for grinding into “chalk turquoise,” then treated and dyed and turned into cheap mass-produced beads or cabochons. Of the gem-quality stone the veins produce, much of it is inexpensive, running in the range of $2-$4 per carat.
The lower end gem-grade Kingman turquoise typically bears little in the way of obvious matrix, but also lacks the deep clarity of color found, for example, in Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Kingman colors range from deep sky blue to classic robin’s egg blue to a very pale icy blue, and from an aqua-tinted sea green to a much paler sea-foam color in a pastel shade. The matrices that do appear in Kingman turquoise are widely variable. In the photo at the top of the post, the matrix is visible merely as tiny flecks and seams: it’s pyrite, or fool’s gold, and depending on the size and shape of the matrix vein, it can appear slightly bronze, more often silvery, and frequently, as here, gray or black. Some contemporary Kingman also bears a golden-bronze or brick-red matrix.
Some pyrite flecks are visible in the stone in the photo immediately above, black inky spots on the surface of the stone. What’s more interesting to me, however, is something not uncommon to Kingman turquoise: not merely the bits of white matrix, which are probably bits of host rock, but the white swirls within the stone itself. It’s a phenomenon found occasionally in Sleeping Beauty turquoise, too, but I’ve seen it most often with Kingman; the color of the stone itself has a gradient-like effect, lightening to something virtually white in places. It’s not matrix, and it doesn’t mean that you’ve found less-valuable variscite instead of turquoise; it’s simply a difference in the coloration of the stone.
The lower cost of this type of Kingman turquoise makes it especially attractive for a lot of Native artisans; they can buy cabs, slabs, and beads in bulk for the price of a single high-end stone from a much more expensive source mine, and turn them into multiple pieces of jewelry that bear the distinctive colors that potential customers have come to expect in turquoise Indian jewelry. It’s also readily accessible; some of the veins are still being mined, and the stone is sold widely on the regional market.
But there are also more valuable types of Kingman turquoise available. At the lower end of this spectrum is the basic spiderweb Kingman turquoise, which makes terrific cabochons that run about $6-$8 a carat, still very affordable, but a finer stone overall. There are also higher-grade versions of Kingman spiderweb, including so-called “birds-eye” (because the matrix in the stone appears like a bird’s eye) and “water web” (for the type of matrix inclusions), that can average $16 a carat or so in cabochon form. And there are small runs of spiderweb Kingman that are of superior quality and appearance that can run in excess of $30 per carat, but those are relatively rare. They’re also very beautiful, and they’re another iconic form of “Indian turquoise.” [Note: Links do not imply endorsement, and we have no relationship with any site linked unless otherwise specified. They are for informational purposes only, and we try to link only to sources that we have reason to believe are both knowledgeable and reputable.]
At the top of this section, I mentioned chalk turquoise and dying and other treatments. We’ve covered this a bit already in the overview of this series, but since Kingman is perhaps the turquoise most commonly treated in this manner, it’s a good time to revisit it.
“Chalk turquoise” is low-end turquoise not suitable for cutting and cabbing. Why? Exactly what it’s name implies; it turns to dust. It’s often robin’s-egg blue to ice blue in color, but it’s not stable enough to use for gemwork. It doesn’t mean that, treated in certain ways, it can’t be used, but buyers need to know what they’re getting. The current operators of the Kingman deposits sell turquoise from across the quality spectrum: rough or cabs, the highest end and the lowest grade, including treated and dyed chalk turquoise. They’re also very clear about that; this is in no way a criticism of their practices, because they are up-front about which stone is treated and how. But as the wholesale product leaves their hands and makes its way through a widely variable chain of resellers, not everyone is so forthright — or even knowledgeable about what it is they’re actually selling. There are two forms that wind up being especially troubling: Mohave Green and Mohave Purple.
They’re named for the [misspelled] county where the mine is found. Each is ordinary Kingman turquoise — of sufficient quality to be cabbed nicely, but not the high-end product, because no one in the business would want to destroy the value of high-end stone by dyeing it. In this case, cabochons, usually with at least some spiderweb matrix, are dyed a brilliant lime green or a bright violet. It alters the underlying blue-green color, of course, but it also alters the color of the matrix, which often takes on a coppery deep red hue. Now, let’s be clear: These are colors not found in Nature.
There are, as it happens, certain turquoise deposits that actually are lime-green. Some are old veins that have been mined out; others are currently active. Most are in Nevada, and they tend to be quite valuable. Older examples include Stennich, Pixie, and especially the brilliantly-hued Orville Jack; those still currently in circulation include some Carico Lake and Damele turquoise. But in those cases, the color is the stone itself, not something added that changes the surface appearance.
The purple is dispensed with more easily. There is no actual “purple turquoise.” Sometimes the matrices will have a maroon or inky purple-black appearance, but the stones themselves are not purple. The color of Mohave purple turquoise most closely resembles that of sugilite, which is another stone entirely, but sugilite does not have the same type of matrix patterns found in the Mohave purple.
Both are novel-looking stones, and as long as people know that what they’re getting is dyed and treated turquoise, and are fine with that, there isn’t a problem. Just be sure that you do know what you’re getting.
Overall, Kingman turquoise is a good choice for Indian jewelry. The gem-grade version that makes it into cabochons tends to be solid and stable; the comparative dearth of matrix makes it suitable for big, bold pieces and steady wear. The history attached to the stone and its source alone is enough to make Kingman an iconic turquoise. Its popularity among Native artisans and smiths, and its relative affordability for customers, mean that you’ve likely seen it in Indian Jewelry, and perhaps even own a piece. And like the beautiful robin’s-egg blue Skystone in the piece above, great Kingman, with or without the spiderweb matrix, can show incredible complexity, translucence, and depth.
Note: All of the pieces shown in today’s post have long since sold in years past (with the exception of the unset cabochon). None of Wings’s current inventory contains Kingman, but he does have Kingman cabochons in stock, both standard and free-form. If you’re interested in something made with this gorgeous traditional turquoise, simply inquire using the Contact form.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
