In search of Millers

One of the early Anglo families in central Arizona, three members of the Miller family arrived in the area with the 1863 pioneer party led by Joseph Reddeford Walker.  They were John Jacob Miller and his sons Jacob Leroy Miller and Samuel Carson Miller.  The senior of the men was acquainted with Walker from times they had prospected together throughout the West.

The trio hailed from Illinois.  Much has been written about them, so I will not go on and on about their background, as I am wont to do, except to say that they settled in what is now Prescott, remaining in the area to homestead, work & raise families.  

As productive members of the community, their name has been appended to various things, such as Miller Valley and Miller Creek.

Samuel built a large two-story house on Miller Valley Road.  He & his brother were freighters during the initial settling of Prescott.  All of this is leading up to a recent day trip the señor & I enjoyed with our friend Nancy, historian extraordinaire, who is doing research for her next book - this one about Skull Valley, where Jacob Leroy's son, Leroy Daniel (known as Roll) ended up.

Other than local history, which I am rabid about, and Nancy, who I am fond of, and a jaunt to explore the out-of-doors, an endeavor I always jump at, the Millers in particular are of great interest to me.  For one thing, I am related to them, and my cousin Johnny is a direct descendant of Roll.  My own more distant connection to the Prescott Millers is by way of my five greats grandfather's sister, and if that isn't tenuous, I don't know what is.

Leroy Daniel Miller settled in Skull Valley along with other descendants of Walker party members.  Below is a photo of his house there, where he lived with his wife, Rachel Wiebrecht.  We have located the site of this house . . .

  , , , and this is a subsequent dwelling of theirs that may or may not still exist on the other side of the creek.  

The Miller folks standing out front are Serilda (Lilly), Dora & Fred in the gate, Thomas Herbert beside grandfather Jacob Leroy Miller, Harley standing alone, Esta & Rachel on the porch and Charles holding the horse.  Because Roll is not in the photo, I'm guessing it was taken between 1893, when he died, and 1899, when his father, Jacob Leroy died.  Jacob went to live with the family to help out after his son died.

Interestingly, Nancy found a newspaper article detailing how 13-year-old Charles died after being thrown from a horse; however, my research clearly proves that Charley grew to manhood and sired a family, a perfect example of why genealogists must have multiple data sources.

At any rate, we three set off in anticipation of a day of delightful discovery, and that is exactly what we had.  The very first back road we tried brought us an enchanting sight of two youngsters tending to their sheep as they moved them from one pasture to another.  It was clearly not the first time for the children or for their herd.  They took their time, allowing the animals to graze along the roadside leisurely as they moved.  I loved seeing the kids out working with their animals.

Still in the animal category, Nancy had a meet-up with a neighbor's burro that ambled over in search of a treat no doubt . . .

. . . but turned away when it discovered Nancy's hands were busy with a camera instead of an apple.

Although we were easily distracted, we persisted in our quest to locate the site of the first Skull Valley railroad depot.  There was little left to mark the site, but we were confident in our find, based on landmarks and configurations on old maps.  That depot has been demolished, but a later one, 1914 to be precise, still exists as a private home. . .

. . . and with multiple additions.

Just across the narrow roadway, a train idled on the track awaiting a signal that never came while we were there.

I have no photos to illustrate how we spent a good bit of our afternoon, but suffice it to say we met a lot of good Skull Valley folks and passed a number of hours in their homes and in their presence shooting the breeze as we shared interest and information about all that has transpired in those parts during the past 160 or so years.

And how all three of us failed to notice those two rather large signs that marked a private road with "No trespassing" is beyond me, but there we were munching on our lunches when the rancher arrived to inform us that we were where we ought not to be.  In the end, she forgave us; indeed, we spent a long period of time in interesting conversation with her.

We managed not to trespass after that: as we wandered down various dirt roads, we were invited into homes and regaled with story after story that only long-time locals can relate.  What fun it was, and fascinating!  And hopefully, Nancy came home with additional material for her book.