THE NADABURG SAGA
Dreams, Glittering & Green
A mighty dam & promises of riches, lure Joe Wittmann to the west

  It was the quest for gold and green that opened up the southwest to settlement. The gold "in them thar hills" brought the fortune seekers, and the endless meadows of green brought the cattlemen. Other entrepreneurs saw riches in the "blue" - water. Both miners and ranchers needed water.
  In 1863, two groups of prospectors led by Joseph Walker and Pauline Weaver, discovered placer gold along the upper Hassayampa River, northeast of Wickenburg, Arizona. Not too far north of Wickenburg, was a place called Box Canyon, where a fantastic find of surface nuggets covered what came to be called Rich Hill. Gold fever raged.
  Rick Hill did not give up its riches easily. Large boulders resisted picks and shovels and the scarcity of water needed to wash the gold, brought frustration and disappointment. The Hassayampa's seasonal cycle of rampaging floods and scorching droughts was described as "times where an ocean steamer could be floated, and where at other seasons even the fish must carry canteens."
  In the 1850's, California miners had discovered a solution to the fickle wet/dry climate - hydraulics. Mine operators built large masonry dams and storage reservoirs. Ditches and flumes, many over 50 miles long, carried the water from reservoirs to the mining operations sites. The water was shot through high-pressure nozzles - "hydraulicing" to wash the gold-bearing earth out of the stream banks and down into sluice boxes.
  In 1881, a New York  miner, Wells H. Bates and his brother, DeWitt, purchased the small Marcus gold mine nearly two miles west of Rich Hill. Two years later, Bates' interests included the nearby Weaver placer mines and he developed plans to use the California-style hydraulic mining. On February 17, 1883, Bates recorded a claim, for mining purposes, for all the water in the Hassayampa. He staked out a site in the Walnut Grove Valley on land owned by rancher Abner Wade. Here, he proposed to build a dam and storage reservoir.
  Around 1885, New Yorker, Henry Spingler VanBeuren rose to prominence in the recently formed Walnut Grove Water Storage Company. The Van Beurens were immensely wealthy, deriving an annual income of nearly one million dollars just from rentals on their properties on West Fourteenth Street in New York City. The plan was to construct a dam on the Hassayampa just below the Wagoner store and post office, 20 miles downstream from Prescott.
  The Walnut Grove Dam was to serve two purposes. Not only would it provide the needed water for placer mining, but could be used to irrigate nearly 500 acres of farmland below the dam. The company hired a well known mining expert, Professor William P. Blake.
  Blake's design called for a dam 80 feet high, with a storage capacity of 1,306,800,000 cubic feet of water. The water company, however, decided to raise the dam's height to 110 feet. Construction began in 1886 and was completed in October 1887.
  Henry VanBeuren and his daughter, Eleanor, arrived in Arizona in December of 1889, intending to spend a pleasant winter along the Hassayampa. They didn't count on the weather. A then unknown phenomena, El Nino, was brewing.

  Joseph Wittmann was born in Germany sometime around 1847. As a young man, he migrated to the east coast of the U.S. He fathered twin sons, Frank and Joseph (II), in 1877. The younger Joseph soon met Eleanor VanBeuren. Presumably, it was his interest in the young woman that led to his involvement with the projects along the Hassayampa.
  In the late 1880's, young Joseph bought a 23 mile stretch of the river that was part of the Walnut Grove group. His romance with Eleanor soon led to marriage. Their land holdings spread east to include the area around present day Morristown.

THE WALNUT GROVE  DAM DISASTER

  The winter of 1889/90 was unusually wet and the reservoir behind Walnut Dam soon filled. Storms and snow melt pushed the reservoir to its limit in February 1890. Trees and brush choked the spillways. The dam superintendent, Thomas H. Brown, grew concerned that the pressure may cause the dam to break. Swollen flood gates could not be opened, not even with dynamite. By the afternoon of  February 21, a torrent of water 3 feet high had crested the dam. Only then did Brown order an employee to race down the 22 mile stretch, to warn the more than 50 people at Gulch Camp that the dam may break.
  Dan Burke, employee and prospector, was chosen to deliver the message because of his supposed familiarity with the territory. But Burke, obviously more thirsty than concerned, stopped in at Goodwin's Station said to have been somewhere along Oak or Cherry Creek, to have a drink. Late that evening, a second messenger, William Akard, caught up with a drunken Burke at James Cameron's ranch, not far from Goodwins. Still within sight of the lower diversion dam, the unleashed river would claim Akard's life. The message of warning was never delivered.
  It was around midnight of that fateful day, a deafening blast and a blinding flash marked the snapping of an immense steel cable that connected the water tower of Walnut Dam to its east bank. Witnesses would later claim they thought a giant box of gunpowder had exploded. They watched in horror as the tower teetered and fell. In the next instant, the entire dam, including 90,000 tons of rock, seemed to move bodily downstream in slow motion, sweeping clean everything in its path.
  A roaring maelstrom of water, its crest a florescent glow in the darkness, towered 100 feet high and was said to "sound like Niagara Falls, only tenfold greater", was moving at over 60 miles per hour. It took the mass of rubble and water less than a half hour to sweep away the lower dam and main camp, fifteen miles downstream. Between the lower dam and Wickenburg, approximately 150 people were living. One of the few survivors, fittingly named Mr. Hardee, claimed that the flood filled the 200 yard wide valley, 60 foot deep.
  Two hours after the dam broke, a wall of water forty feet high, crashed through Wickenburg. Twelve miles downstream, the waters erased the little town of Seymour. Not far past Seymour, the flood lost its great height, but none of its force. By the time it reached the area of Buckeye and the Gila River, it was said to be over two miles wide. Complete surprise was matched by complete destruction. The final death tally would never be known.
  Burke was arrested the next day, as much to protect him from being lynched, as to hold him on charges of manslaughter. He would later claim that he'd gotten lost after leaving Goodwin's Station, even though he was able to find his way back long enough to buy another bottle of whiskey. Not long after his arrest, Burke was released to disappear. He was never seen again.
  Following the dam break, VanBeuren was sued by 14 Maricopa County residents for damages in the amount of $93,000. An $8000 claim was filed by Henry Wickenburg. The lawsuit, however, was dismissed on grounds it should have been filed in Yavapai County. For unknown reasons, the lawsuit was never refiled.
  In October, 1891, Farmers Loan and Trust Company of  New York, the major creditor to the Walnut Grove Project, foreclosed on the $100,000 mortgage.

NADABURG IS RENAMED WITTMANN
TO HONOR A MAN WITH PROMISES


  Joseph and Eleanor Wittmann were spared from the flood of 1889 and soon returned to New York. In 1907, Eleanor gave birth to their only child, Joseph VanBeuren Wittmann.
  The senior Joseph traveled to Arizona once a year to look over the family's holdings.The youngest Joseph grew up in the east. Not until the early 1920's did he take on the dream of his father. 
  There was little talk of rebuilding the Walnut Grove Dam and the project was abandoned until 1925, when Wittmann inherited the property following VanBeuren's death. He hired William A. Farish to re-survey the area. After five years of study, Farish concluded that rebuilding the two dams was not practical. Once again the project was abandoned.

  While the senior Wittmann was working on plans to build another dam on the Hassayampa at Box Canyon, young Joe taught singing as the choirmaster at Morristown while also serving as an attorney. During this time, he met William Hovey Griffin, the first homesteader of the area known as Nadaburg. Griffin's lifelong dream of brining water to the area helped fire Wittmann's own dream of irrigating the desert.
  In November, 1929, Wittmann filed the Wittmann Irrigation Project using the survey done by W.A. Farish. The plan also referred to as the Box Reservoir, called for bringing water from the Hassayampa down through Morristown and on to Nadaburg.  The finances needed for the project were enormous. The few families in the Nadaburg area were all poor, but had fairly large tracts of land. An agreement was reached wherein many of  Nadaburg's land owners gave three-quarters of their land to Wittmann to help finance the project.
  Belief in Wittmann and his dreams was still running high in the mid 1930's. By mutual agreement, the town's name was officially changed  to Wittmann, to honor him. But by 1946, there was still no dam and no irrigation water. A group of residents filed suit for the return of their properties. Eventually, they would recover approximately one-half. Though there was talk of changing the town's name back to Nadaburg, it was never done. Wittmann returned to the east coast and was apparently not seen in Wittmann again.

Special thanks to the Joseph Wittmann family for supplying much of this information.