Arizona Place Names

Is the word Arizona still a mystery? Not according to Donald Garate, chief interpreter at Tumacácori National Historic Park, who wrote two Journal of Arizona History articles about the name after exhaustive archival research. 

Garate says the word first appeared in a May 8, 1736, letter referring to a lush valley 18 miles southwest of Nogales, Mexico. Five varieties of oak thrive there, so the popular conjecture of “Arid Zone” does not fit this climate. Additionally, nouns and adjectives are reversed in Spanish, so the name would be Zona Arida.

Ali Shonac — a Tohono O’odham phrase scholars propose as an origin for Arizona, based on its sound — appeared on Father Kino’s detailed 1690s maps. But by 1735, dozens of Basque herders lived in the area, including Bernardo de Urrea, owner of a ranch named Arizona. In Basque, aritz means oak and ona means good; combined they become Arizona, “place of the good oak trees.”

The name became legendary in October 1736, when a Yaqui Indian named Antonio Siraumea stumbled on a one-ton chunk of almost pure silver in the mountains, 12 miles from Urrea’s ranch. Hundreds of prospectors rushed to mine the rich bolas y planchas de plata (balls and plates of silver).

In order to decide whether the silver was ancient treasure, an illegal smelter or a natural deposit, Manuel Sosa, Juan Bautista de Anza’s scribe, took depositions and mailed dispatches to Mexico City from the ranch, making Arizona world famous for its connection to the discovery.

After Garate wrote his article Who Named Arizona? The Basque Connection, he found a dozen places named Arizona in Central and South America. There were no Pima or Tohono O’odham Indians in other countries, but there were Basques there. So, is Arizona a Basque word meaning “place of the good oak trees?” Probably. At least that’s what Garate believes. — Jim Turner

Known to many students as “The Dean,” the late University of Arizona professor Byron Cummings played an integral role in unearthing the convoluted cultural past of the American Southwest. His specialties were archaeology and anthropology, so, naturally, he took part in many excavations during the early part of the 20th century. During one particular dig in Cottonwood Wash, he discovered the mummified corpses of two infants. Choosing to keep the name accurate and descriptive, as scientists often do, he named the cave for its tiny residents.

When John Lawler bought the mining claim here in 1883, he decided to name it after the setting of one of his favorite books. In the book The Thousand and One Nights, Baghdad was the majestic, magical capital of the Abbasid Empire in the Middle East. No one knows if Lawler intended to misspell the name to Westernize it or if it was a simple mistake, but it has remained — sans h — for more than 125 years.

Sheep and humans have little in common, except when traveling through this section of the Mogollon Rim. Both shepherds and their flocks stopped there for haircuts while trekking across the state. Dick Hart, who owned the land, had a crew that included shearers for the sheep and a barber for the men.

Initially staked out for a mining claim, all activity in Bisbee was centered on the prolific Copper Queen Mine. It was meant to rival the Silver King Mine east of Phoenix, and it did; 8 billion pounds of copper ore left the Copper Queen in its nearly 100-year existence. When Phelps Dodge & Co. sent Dr. James Douglas to buy up copper prospects in 1880, he purchased land next to the mine. The two ventures merged, resulting in the Copper Queen Consolidated Mining Co. A couple of brothers who served as promoters for the company decided to name the town after shareholder Judge DeWitt Bisbee, the father-in-law of one of the men.

It’s one of the most unusually named exits along Interstate 17 between Flagstaff and Phoenix. Adding to the area’s eeriness is the lack of an official explanation for its out-of-the-ordinary name. At least two gory theories exist, but no one knows for certain. Some people believe the name originates from a violent clash (or clashes) between settlers and Indians; others attribute it to a bridge collapse that killed an entire flock of sheep passing through the Verde Valley.

Most people know that where there are beehives, there is honey. And an abundance of stingers. The prospectors who came upon this area, however, either didn’t know or didn’t care. Accounts say that they found a hive full of honey near a creek and disturbed the bumblebees inside. Many were stung badly, and, in recognition of their experience, the prospectors named it Bumble Bee Creek. When a post office was established there about a decade later, the small town officially adopted the name.

This small unincorporated town near Sedona is not known for its corn. In fact, the only place you’re likely to find any would be at the local grocery store. Originally, the town was supposed to be called Cohnville, after a family named Cohn. The Cohns applied to have a post office at their store, but when the paperwork came back from Washington, D.C., it read “Cornville.” Some locals have disputed the family’s name, with variations of Cone and Coane also noted, but despite all the disagreements, no one has ever bothered to change the name.

No one is sure who was responsible for stripping the stately ponderosa pine tree near Old Town Spring in 1876. What most historians can agree on is that the bare tree was used as a flagpole, and that it stood, flagless, for passersby on their way to nearby Antelope Spring. The flagstaff stood for more than 10 years before being cut down and used as firewood at a local saloon. Shortly thereafter, the town was named in honor of the once-prominent landmark.