Memoir of the Proposed Territory of Arizona

In Short

Sylvester Mowry’s Memoir of the Proposed Territory of Arizona is a mid-nineteenth-century political tract and economic prospectus advocating for the formal creation of the Arizona Territory out of the Gadsden Purchase. Writing as an elected delegate without official congressional recognition, Mowry combines geographical surveys, historical notes on Spanish mining, economic data, and frantic letters from local settlers to argue that the region’s massive mineral wealth and agricultural potential are being paralyzed by Apache raids, Mexican cross-border skirmishes, and total lawlessness. The text survives as a vivid, unvarnished primary document of American territorial expansion and frontier desperation.

The Story

Mowry opens his argument with a rigorous geographical breakdown of the Gadsden Purchase, acquired from Mexico for ten million dollars. He details the region's current boundaries—stretching six hundred miles along the Gila River down to the thirty-first parallel—while lamenting the diplomatic concessions that deprived the United States of direct access to the mouth of the Colorado River and the Gulf of California. Expanding beyond these limits, Mowry proposes a grander border for the new Territory of Arizona along the 34th parallel, encompassing ninety thousand square miles and three major rivers: the Rio Grande, the Gila, and the Colorado.

To demonstrate the territory's intrinsic value, Mowry turns to history and natural resources. He catalogs more than forty historical Spanish towns and Jesuit missions, such as San Xavier del Bac, describing a once-thriving agricultural and mining civilization that extracted millions in gold and silver. Mowry insists this wealth remains largely untapped. Citing government explorers like Colonel A. B. Gray and Colonel William H. Emory, alongside Mexican mining statistics compiled by Alexander von Humboldt, he outlines rich veins of silver, copper, and lead, highlighting active enterprises like the Arizona Copper Mining Company at El-Ajo and the Sonora Exploring and Mining Company at Tubac. He further points to fertile river valleys along the Salinas and Rio Verde capable of supporting vast agricultural populations through irrigation.

The narrative then shifts from economic promise to immediate crisis. Mowry reveals a territory on the brink of collapse due to an absolute vacuum of government authority. Separated from the seat of government in Santa Fe by hundreds of miles of wilderness, the settlers of Arizona possess no courts of record, no military protection, and no civil magistrates. Apache Indians conduct bold raids in broad daylight, driving off livestock and slaughtering miners, while lawless American fillibusters and hostile Mexican forces carry out violent reprisals across the border.

Mowry concludes by presenting direct petitions and desperate correspondence from local citizens, urging Congress to grant Arizona immediate territorial status. He argues that establishing a firm government will secure the crucial Southern Pacific overland mail route, protect American citizens, unleash unparalleled mineral wealth, and transform a lawless desert into a thriving, self-sustaining state.

How It Unfolds

Mapping the borderland Mowry defines the physical parameters of the Gadsden Purchase and outlines his vision for the expanded Arizona Territory. He criticizes the final boundary treaty for cutting off valuable silver districts and strategic access to the Gulf of California.

Unearthing lost riches Tracing the region's history through Jesuit surveys and Spanish mission records, Mowry catalogs forgotten settlements and abundant mines. He presents official military and engineering reports confirming that vast deposits of silver and copper lie waiting throughout the mountain ranges.

Exposing the lawless frontier The focus moves to the desperate reality of daily life in settlements like Tubac and Tucson. Mowry details how persistent Apache attacks and unrestrained criminal activity cripple agricultural development and force miners to work under constant threat of death.

Presenting the people's plea Mowry incorporates direct letters and petitions from residents to show a unified population demanding self-government. The primary sources depict a territory plagued by arbitrary custom taxes, lack of legal recourse, and total isolation from federal authority.

Demanding congressional action In a final appeal to Congress, Mowry summarizes the strategic and national necessity of organizing Arizona. He asserts that territorial status will secure transcontinental trade routes, protect American lives, and repay the nation tenfold through its mineral output.

The People

• Sylvester Mowry

An ambitious U.S. Army lieutenant and elected territorial delegate who acts as Arizona's primary advocate in Washington. He seeks to persuade an indifferent Congress to grant Arizona territorial status, driven by his unshakable belief in the region's immense mineral and strategic value.

• Colonel A. B. Gray

A government surveyor and railroad engineer whose extensive field reports form the empirical backbone of Mowry’s argument. Gray envisions a transcontinental railway crossing Arizona, but his plans are hindered by the lack of military defense and infrastructure along the border.

• Charles D. Poston

A prominent mining entrepreneur managing the Sonora Exploring and Mining Company at Tubac. Poston desperately wants legal protection, courts, and functional supply lines, but finds his mining operations throttled by Apache raids, Mexican border feuds, and burdensome federal import duties.

• The Settlers and Miners

The scattered population of roughly eight thousand Americans and Mexicans living in towns like Tucson and the Santa Cruz Valley. They desire basic physical safety and civil governance, yet remain trapped in a chaotic environment where every man goes heavily armed and violent disputes are routine.

In Its Own Voice

"The yield of the silver mines of Mexico, as computed by Ward and Humboldt from the actual official returns to the Government, from the conquest to 1803, amounts to the enormous sum of $2,027,955,000, or more than two BILLIONS Of dollars."

Mowry uses historical mining yields to prove the region's vast economic potential to skeptical eastern readers.

"We are living without the protection of law or the ameliorations of society."

A Tucson resident describes the total absence of legal infrastructure in an October 1857 letter to Mowry.

"God send that we had been left alone with the Apaches. We should have been a thousand times better off in every respect."

Charles D. Poston vents his frustration over federal custom houses collecting tariffs on basic goods while providing no protection against raiders.

What It's Really About

At its core, Mowry’s memoir is a high-stakes treatise on nineteenth-century American expansion and the structural duties of the federal state. It argues that territorial conquest is meaningless without the immediate extension of civil law, military protection, and infrastructure. Beneath the lists of mineral yields and geographical coordinates lies a bitter critique of congressional neglect. Mowry contends that the United States government fails its citizens when it collects taxes and acquires land without providing basic security or a legal system to resolve grievances. The text exposes the friction between Manifest Destiny as a grand political ideal and the gritty, violent reality of governing an isolated borderland populated by competing cultural groups and hostile indigenous nations.

Why Read It Today

Memoir of the Proposed Territory of Arizona offers a raw, unvarnished window into the mechanics of American empire-building. Readers interested in Western history, territorial politics, or early mining operations will find it a fascinating primary document that captures the immediate aftermath of the Gadsden Purchase. Rather than presenting a stylized myth of the Wild West, Mowry gives us the unfiltered administrative, economic, and human anxiety of a frontier on the verge of anarchy.

The text does present notable reading challenges. Written as a political promotional tract, it alternates between technical geographic surveys, detailed mining statistics, and long block quotations from government documents. Its prose reflects the stark 19th-century expansionist mindset, treating indigenous populations strictly as military obstacles and viewing Mexican territories primarily through the lens of potential acquisition. Yet, what stays with the reader is the palpable sense of isolation and vulnerability expressed in the letters of the early settlers—a sobering reminder of how precarious daily life was on the edges of the expanding nation.