I am very interested in the Malamute dogs which Paul Volker raised. My dogs are decedents of those dogs thru Silver Sled Kennel and North Wind Kennel. I would love to know where he got his foundation dogs. How many he had and for how long he bred them. Any information would be greatly appreciated. Nancy Russell, Storm Kloud Kennel

I have malamutes that came from your uncles malamutes. Would you know what year he started breeding these wonderful dogs. I am on Face Book to0.

Paul Voelker aka Don Pablo was my Great Uncle also. I live in the UP of Michigan and I frequent Marquette and Ishpeming. I remember my uncle Chum from Chicago bringing the newspaper, Chicago Tribune to the UP as Don Pablo was featured on the front page. I was too young to have even met this intriguing character! I have a question , who was your Voelker grandfather or grandmother? I have always had a keen interest in his history. I’m familiar with AZ and Scottsdale area. I know the general area where he roamed. I was just searching what an Italian Clavietta was, as I was reading last night in an magazine article that John Voelker played one! All of a sudden this magazine article “ popped” up on my tablet! I wasn’t even looking for this info! Ty for the interesting material…..

I took hundreds of slides, ran the trading post while he went on ‘trading expeditions’, made and sold hundreds of turquoise rings, and was an expert on antique rifles, of which he had plenty. When I was there, most of these were stored in crates at a bank. We bought many others from the ‘widows’ who retired in nearby Tempe…..

The pics you see are , for the most part , accurate . I counted at least 17 buildings full of ‘stuff’, and documented it all in slides. He kept an old 1949 Packard hearse parked in front. We did a lot of trading together with Indians and tourists, most was done in Abbott and Costello fashion, Don Pablo the straight man, and I was the ‘dupe’ to the ‘mark’ or tourist. Actually, the tourist was the ‘dupe’ , but they never were made aware.

An example? Indians would show up with a dozen old Winchester carbines gotten from the govt years ago….pretty useless….. My job was to trade with them, one Coors beer per carbine was the going rate. These were then dressed up by me with brass upholstery tacks, tossed in the dirt, beaten up with chains, and then wiped down and all but one put in a back room , with one placed above the trading post counter. A tourist couple, usually from the East coast, would come by and and see it.

“Look Martha, a real Indian Winchester Carbine…how much mister?”…… “Sir, that is indeed a rare piece of American Western history, used by the local tribes for decades, and yours for a mere $135 dollars.” At that point, on cue, Don Pablo would yell out from a back room…..”Trader Lee, we still have that Winchester carbine? Got an offer for $175…..”….. “Gosh, Don Pablo, I just offered it to this gent for $135!” “WHAT! ” Don Pablo would roar back….”It’s impossible to get good help these days” he would mutter…….”but a deal is a deal….way too low Son”…….

At that point, the gent could not get the $$ out of his wallet fast enough. After they left, we would look at each other, trade winks. and put up another Winchester carbine from the ‘back room”……The stories I could tell…..:}

Anyway, someday should relate some of these adventures , like meeting Paul Harvey, or the tale of the rare Hopi Indian tribal ceremonial rug , or the tale of the paring knife…..or tracking down gold Wells Fargo bars from a nearby garden, at a ranch where they held chicken pit fights…..

Most don’t realize Don Pablo had a photographic memory…..that really helps in remembering people and history.

Wonder whatever happened to his dozens of journals…..and picture albums….many of which I have slides of……
He was certainly unforgettable…….first impressions count…….like when I first arrived, late at night, and was looking through a window, and next to my ear I suddenly heard ‘click’ , click, click, click…spelling C O L T, of a hammer being drawn back….”who are you, and why are you here?.”….. I explained. He appreciated the help. Later, next morning, when I asked where the ‘facilities’ were, he handed me a post hole digger, waved his arm to the desert, and said….”Son, we don’t discriminate here….pick any place you want!”………:} A pile of boards was to be a ‘bed’. I cooked many meals for him on a wooden fired stove….mostly egg dishes as we had 12 ‘Polish’ hens, and one rooster…..:}
To this day, my wife thinks I can barely boil water……:}

More later…..

Great write up…he was a great and unique man…I wish I had a chance to know him and his nomadic mentality is a trait that has passed down…

Thanks, Travis Allen