Not A Shot Was Fired, Ep. 36

juliemorrisonwrite
6 days ago
2 min read

First Lisa takes us back in time in early Tucson to see if Civil War ever stages a chapter here; then Julie takes us— and a surprise musical guest—on one of the great walks in Arizona, through Buffalo Park in Flagstaff.

Mug: Courtyard Cafe

Tucson Civil War

From Tucson Civil War in "Arizona 100 Years Grand"

by Lisa Schnebly Heidinger

Confederate troops got their first taste of Arizona action in March of 1862, when 25 soldiers came to Tubac to rescue settlers from an Apache attack.

Since this was not against Union troops it was considered more a miltary action than a Civil War battle.

On March 30, 272 Union members of the California Column came east and clashed with a small Confederate detachment. Sounds like a battle but often isn’t counted because only one Union soldier was wounded, and no one killed.

The Battle of Picacho Pass is re-enacted every year on April 15, when 13 Union Cavalry came against ten Confederates. Three boys in blue were killed and three wounded; no Confederates were wounded or killed, but several captured.

Tucson’s capture was the next event: the Confederate flag few over the Presidio on Tucson from March of 1862 until May 20 when 2,300 Union troops descended, playing “Yankee Doodle” while they massed outside the Presidio walls.

Residents convinced the Confederate commanders resistance was futile. Lt. James Tevis reportedly said, “They got too close for my health, and I left.”

Not a shot was fired.

Jimmy Buffett Sings Buffalo Park

by Julie Morrison

If in my last breath, I meet only Death—

no saints or winged intercessors—

I’ll suggest we take a walk

somewhere we can talk, swap lines

from our favorite transgressors.

With life as a beach now out of reach,

this sailor will port in the park,

where song is the meadow

we’ll be the black sheep

crooning light lullabies to the dark.

If no heaven will have me,

I’ll hum myself a haven—

a place to stroll and strum

without a care,

for Hell’s racing and outpacing

by cutthroats and turncoats and those

who make pirates seem fair—

I’ll be the place I need—

like a green among the trees—

a clearing I’ll find when I play—

if salvation throws me back,

I’ll try another track:

a tune to keep judgement at bay.

I’ve lived island time,

written cheeseburger rhymes,

sailed seas too salty for verse,

sharked pretty girls, parroted words,

been every cocktail’s wet nurse,

and I want my sunset to be a duet

with the blues of the sky and the sea,

my song’s sweet sound

making such sacred ground,

I’ll have Heaven,

if it won’t have me.