Ink and Dust: Some History of Southern Arizona and Printing

The Ancient Foundation

The history of printing in the Southwest is more than a mechanical timeline; it is a story intimately connected to the rugged histories of Arizona and New Mexico. It’s interesting to look through the lens of what went before, back to a time when printing was the heartbeat of communication in the 19th century.

But the story begins long before the first press arrived. Tucson is one of the oldest continually inhabited areas in North America. For four thousand years, the Hohokam people farmed this arid land, followed by the O'Odham, whose ancestors walked these same deserts. The Spaniards arrived in the late 1600s, raising the adobe walls of the Presidio San Agustín del Tucson—"The Old Pueblo"—and the white towers of Mission San Xavier del Bac. Yet, the roots go deeper still, to a place called Čukşon, situated at the foot of Black Base Mountain, a site of trade and migration since pre-history.

The Neglected Outpost

By the mid-19th century, the relationship between Arizona and New Mexico was defined by strain and distance. Following the Mexican-American War and the Gadsden Purchase of 1854, Tucson found itself legally tethered to the Territory of New Mexico, governed from a capital in Santa Fe that felt a world away.

For the pioneers of Tucson, Santa Fe was not just distant; it was unresponsive. The journey between the two towns took weeks to traverse, across land controlled by the Apache (the Apache came in to the region around 1300 CE - 1400 CE). The citizens of Tucson complained bitterly that while the government was happy to collect their taxes, it offered no soldiers to protect them from raids. A distinct cultural identity began to form in the south, one that looked more toward Sonora, Mexico, than to the power centers of Albuquerque or Santa Fe. Tucson was defined by a struggle for independence.

The Confederate Interlude

In the heat of this dissatisfaction, the 1860s brought a desperate gamble. Frustrated by a federal government that refused to seat their delegates, the people of Southern Arizona looked for any pathway to recognition. When the Confederate States of America formed, the citizens of Tucson and Mesilla voted to secede.

For a brief, volatile moment, Tucson was, at least in name, part of the Confederacy. Lieutenant Colonel John Baylor declared himself governor, and the southern half of the territory stood against the Union government in Santa Fe. But the alliance was fragile. When the Union Army’s California Column marched into Tucson in 1862, the Confederates retreated from Tucson to Texas without firing a shot, vanishing as quickly as they had arrived.

The political landscape shifted forever in 1863. President Abraham Lincoln signed the Arizona Organic Act, splitting the territory down the north-south line that exists today. Ostensibly done to secure mineral wealth for the Union and break Confederate influence, the act finally gave Tucson what it had long desired: separation from Santa Fe.

The Merchant Princes

While politicians drew borders on maps, merchants erased them on the ground. The economic survival of the region depended on men like Estevan Ochoa and Pinckney R. Tully. They were the "territorial elite"—wealthy, bilingual, and interconnected. Their freight wagons hauled goods from Kansas railheads, down the Santa Fe Trail, and into the heart of Tucson, fulfilling massive government contracts that kept the frontier forts supplied. They laid the commercial foundation—the supply chains and credit systems—that would eventually allow the 20th-century economy to take root.

The Battle for Statehood

The final great clash with New Mexico came in 1906. The federal government proposed the Hamilton Bill, a plan to admit the two territories into the Union as a single state called "Arizona," with the capital likely remaining in Santa Fe.

Outrage swept through Tucson. The citizens feared they would be swallowed by the larger population of New Mexico and dominated by the "Santa Fe Ring," a corrupt cabal of lawyers and politicians. When the issue went to a vote, New Mexico said yes, desperate for statehood. But Arizona, led by voters in Tucson and Phoenix, voted overwhelmingly—16,265 to 3,141—to reject it. They chose independence over immediate statehood, delaying their entry into the Union until 1912 to preserve their identity.

The Evolution of the Craft

In the early days, before dedicated print shops existed, the history of the territory was pressed onto paper in the offices of local newspapers. If a mine manager needed stock certificates or a rancher needed legal notices, they went to the newspaper’s job shop.

By the 1880s, print shops had become vital infrastructure. They produced the mining reports that lured East Coast investors and the broadsides that announced the arrival of the opera. As the 20th century dawned, the demand outpaced the newspapers' capacity, and dedicated commercial printers began to emerge. Shops like Tucson Printing & Publishing and Old Pueblo Printers became community staples, printing everything from university catalogs to wedding invitations for the barrios.

The Legacy of Pappy Betts

Then came the 1940s. The war brought a population boom to Southern Arizona, and with it, a massive need for "job printing"—the invoices, forms, and menus that a growing city requires.

Into this era stepped Clarence A. "Pappy" Betts. Like so many pioneers before him, he came to the desert from Kansas City for his health. A printer since the age of nine, Pappy didn't just find a job; he built a legacy. By 1942, Betts Printing was established as a union shop and a true partner to the community.

Pappy Betts represented the bridge between the pioneer days and the modern era. In a town that was rapidly modernizing, he kept the ethos of the "job shop" alive, handling the specialized needs of a tight-knit business community during the strained supply chains of World War II.

A Living Link

Today, while many of the early commercial printers have faded into history or been absorbed by conglomerates, Betts Printing remains. Operating near downtown Tucson, it stands as a living link to the commercial boom of the 1940s.

Betts has kept the letterpress capabilities that others scrapped, maintaining the craft of the 19th century while embracing the future. In the history of the Southwest, the newspaper men often received the glory. But it was the commercial shops—like Betts—that printed the contracts and the invoices that allowed this rugged country to finally do business.