With the summer looming long and fiery, five young Yuma women formed the Desert Rovers All-Girl Orchestra and headed to the cooler climates of Northern Arizona, earning their way by playing wherever they could land a gig.
Four of the women were Yuma schoolteachers, and while Ardis Larsen was not the leader of the group, she recorded their adventures.
Twenty-four-year-old Ardis Enith Larsen had been teaching elementary school in Yuma for two years when the idea of forming an all-girl orchestra became the topic of discussion among her friends. Along with the three Haugen sisters — Ida, Letty and Alice — Hazel Olson was also game for a trek around the territory in the summer of 1930.
All had musical talent of one type or another.
Ida played a mean saxophone, Letty rendered sweet vibes from a violin, Alice plucked the banjo, and Hazel tickled the ivories of the piano. Ardis also played the piano, but since there was no need for two piano players, she took a few lessons from a professional drummer, bought a used set of drums and founded the percussion section. She was also the singer of the group.
They purchased pastel chiffon dresses in different colors and necklaces from Woolworths. They also packed palazzo pants and sequined vests to dazzle their audiences.
The women elected Ida as their leader and Hazel as treasurer. They pooled their money to pay for gas, food, lodging, dance hall charges and car repairs.
Photograph of a train passing The Spires in the valley of Granite Dells near Prescott, circa 1900. Granite Dells was the first stop for the Desert Rovers All-Girl Orchestra, where they contracted to play a Saturday night dance in the summer of 1930.
To advertise the orchestra, they enticed a Yuma pecan farmer to pay for publicity pictures in exchange for advertising at the bottom of the posters. But when they were soon referred to as the “Desert Rover Nuts” and the “All-Girl Pecans,” the troupe cut off the pecan advertisement from the bottom of the placards.
Two cars held the passengers and instruments. Ardis had a Ford roadster with a rumble seat, and the Haugen sisters contributed the family’s four-door sedan.
Their first stop was at Granite Dells just north of Prescott, where they contracted to play a Saturday night dance.
“We envisioned an open air dance floor full of couples,” Ardis wrote, “clapping and chatting, and the Desert Rovers becoming the darlings of Prescott. And on the first Saturday night we appeared wearing snowy whites and scarlet jackets and smiling faces.”
Unfortunately, there was competition in the neighborhood. “We succumbed to a better orchestra in a rival Tivoli up the road,” moaned Ardis. “Our hearts fell to our heels.”
However, one of the few dancers that night was a veteran living at Prescott’s Fort Whipple. He enticed the women to play an afternoon concert for the soldiers, although they would not be paid.
Thinking their musical talents might cheer up the veterans, the orchestra agreed. They donned wide black pants with sequined orange vests and played their hearts out.
The men loved them and invited them to a Sunday dinner at the fort. This time, the women dressed in their frilly chiffon outfits and dime-store necklaces for the afternoon. They were duly impressed when, as they entered the dining room, every soldier stood up until the women were seated.
“It was more food than I had ever seen in all my life,” said Ardis. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, bread with real butter, ice cream and cake. “Fort Whipple fed its men well,” she noted.
The group set off for Springerville with a couple of veterans tagging along for the ride.
About 60 miles outside of Flagstaff, the Haugen car broke down. Ardis and one of the men headed into town in her roadster for a replacement part. Returning with the much-needed part and food for everyone, the entourage spent the night at the side of the road but were on their way the next day.
Ardis described their next stop as a “wide place in the road where there was reputedly a hall.” But when they finally arrived in the pouring rain, a sign on the padlocked door of the building announced that the owners had been served with a lien for nonpayment.
Finally arriving in Springerville and the White Mountain Resort, the women stayed in rustic cabins with no electricity and only a wood stove and fireplace for heat. But they loved it, particularly after experiencing decrepit auto camps that were sparsely scattered along the byways.
Agreeing to play for Saturday night dances, they were a hit. “Everyone danced with total disregard for the quality of music,” said Ardis.
The company had a repertoire of 20 numbers that they played over and over, with Ardis providing the vocal accompaniment. No one complained. Cowboys danced alongside sheepherders, although the music sometimes had to wait for the audience to return if a fight broke out among the rivaling ranchers. Even today, the two factions do not always get along.
The women spent their weeknights playing at a nearby small Mormon settlement.
Next stop was Snowflake, where they set up their instruments in a church for an evening of entertainment.
By now, the entire orchestra had adapted the western garb of cowboys they met along the way. And Ardis admitted that even their language had strayed far “from the purity of the schoolroom and, hell-yes, cowboy talk was picturesque and it made us feel deliciously wicked.”
They played an engagement in McNary and one in Alpine before starting the long trek back to Yuma.
On the return trip, the women stopped in Winslow, where they met a vaudeville company that invited them to share the stage. The program was so successful that there was talk of joining the vaudevillians and heading for Idaho. Ardis was the dissenting vote as she wanted to return to her students in Yuma.
The Desert Rovers played one last performance at Alice Haugen’s wedding when she became the first of the orchestra to marry. According to Ardis, “We had improved some with the practice all summer, but we were still not very good.”
