Memoir of the Proposed Territory of Arizona — Reading Notes

Boundaries as Political Argument

Mowry devotes considerable space to the precise limits of the proposed territory, but his descriptions are never neutral. When he notes that the Gadsden Purchase "is attached by act of Congress to the Territory of New Mexico," he implies administrative neglect. The memoir's opening paragraph itemizes what was lost by the Senate's revision: the Santa Cruz valley, the Sonoita valley, the San Bernardino valley, and "the rich and extensive valley of Lake Guzman." Each loss is tied to a concrete resource—silver regions, river access, potential ports. Mowry does not simply state boundaries; he argues that the current line is "irregular in its course" and detrimental to American expansion. The catalog subject "Arizona—Politics and government" is thus enacted through geographic description: every river and valley becomes evidence for why Arizona must be governed separately from New Mexico.

Infrastructure as Proof of Viability

Rather than rely on abstract arguments for statehood, Mowry catalogs existing and planned infrastructure to demonstrate Arizona's economic promise. He notes that "two steamers find active employment in transporting government stores" on the Colorado River, and that San Francisco newspapers regularly advertise vessels "for the mouth of the Colorado." The memoir cites specific dollar amounts: $200,000 appropriated for a wagon road from El Paso to Fort Yuma, and mail contracts totaling $900,000 per annum. Mowry even calculates that the Arizona Copper Mining Company's freight costs—"$100 per ton"—could fund railroad construction. These details ground the territorial proposal in observable commerce, not mere aspiration. The catalog subject "Arizona—History—To 1912" is here filled not with narrative events but with ledger-like evidence of growth: property values rising, new settlements forming, and a "thriving commerce" already linking Arizona to San Francisco.

The Unspoken Presence of Conflict

Although the catalog subjects list no military or diplomatic themes, the excerpts reveal an undercurrent of violence and coercion. Mowry mentions "the massacre of Henry A. Crabbe and his party by the Mexicans at Cavorca" as a catalyst for emigration from California, noting that companies formed with "the ulterior object of overrunning Sonora." He also observes that the Apache have "little inclination to submit to the American." These references are brief and not elaborated, but they suggest that the territorial project was inseparable from armed expansion. The memoir's promotional tone is undercut by these acknowledgments of resistance. Readers should note that Mowry presents conflict as an obstacle to be overcome by military posts and settlement, not as a moral or political problem. The excerpts do not reveal whether he addresses the ethics of conquest, leaving that dimension implicit.

Mowry's memoir is best read as a period artifact of territorial lobbying, where geographic description doubles as political argument. Readers interested in the Gadsden Purchase or antebellum expansion will find a firsthand account of how boosters translated mineral wealth and transportation routes into claims for self-government. The text's silences—on Native sovereignty, on the Mexican perspective, on the environmental cost of mining—are as instructive as its confident predictions. Approach it as a primary source that reveals the assumptions behind a failed territorial bid, not as an objective history.

Years ago, I shelved Mowry’s Arizona memoir beside Perley's reminiscences of sixty years in the national metropolis, v. 1-2 — Text and Context, and they seemed to nod at one another across the stacks—one dreaming of new territory, the other watching Washington’s old parlors fill with dust. Both whisper of ambition’s quiet arithmetic, and I’ve never forgotten their kinship.