Some of you may know of the High School located in Tempe named Marcos de Niza but I’m sure only a few know anything about the school’s namesake. Born in Nice, France (’de Niza’ means ‘of Nice’ in Spanish), Fray Marcos de Niza (c. 1495 - March 25, 1558) lived his life as a Franciscan friar. He went to America in 1531, and after serving his order in Peru, Guatemala and Mexico, was chosen to explore the country north of Sonora (Arizona and New Mexico), whose wealth was often spoken about by a man named Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca. Fray Marcos left Culiacán in March 1539, crossed south-eastern Arizona, penetrated to Zuni Pueblo, and in September returned to Culiacán. He saw Cibola only from a distance, and his description of it as equal in size to Mexico City was probably exact; but de Niza whether from too much Peyote or simply from a desire to look like a badass explorer embellished a bit in his report back to Cabeza de Vaca saying the city was made entirely of gold and turquoise. This report of great riches led Francisco Vásquez de Coronado to make his famous expedition next year to Zuni Pueblo, in present-day New Mexico, of which Fray Marcos was the guide; and the realities proved a great disappointment. They reached the Pueblo on July 7 and captured it. But the soldiers were enraged on finding nothing but a poor Indian village. They cursed the friar so vehemently that Coronado, not wishing to have the blood of a churchman on his hands, sent him back to Mexico City. The accompanying message stated, “Friar Marcos has not told the truth in a single thing that he said.”

The rest of the friar’s career proved uneventful. He apparently became stricken with paralysis and lived first at Jalapa and then in a monastery at Xochimilco. Bishop Juan de Zumárraga gave him aid until his own death in 1548. Nothing more is known other than that the friar died on March 25, 1558.

Now, this story does, indeed, involve the area of present-day Phoenix. Apparently, at some point during his journey, Marco de Niza and his clan set up camp for a while in the rocky hills of the easternmost part of South Mountain. Like anyone with too much time on their hands while baking on the rocks of a hellish summer day in Phoenix without A/C, de Niza decided to scrawl his name on a rock.

 For nearly 450 years, this man’s signature sat scrawled into the side of this rock — undisturbed by the elements and undisturbed by man. Then, ’round about 1985, some jock (I presume) from Tempe High School who quite evidently ditched his AZ History class one too many times did something so stupid that, to this day, it causes me to cradle my head in my hands from disbelief. You see, back in those days, South Mountain was a pretty easy place to go after sneaking out of the house to meet up with some friends to knock back a few Keystones. So it was….one dark night this guy and his friends hiked to a place on the mountain with a good view of the city — the very place, unbeknown to any of them where Fray Marcos de Niza camped a mere 450-odd years before — and after a few cheap beers pulled out a can of spray paint in a moment of unbridled pride for his high school and spray painted over the signature of Marcos de Niza. The next day, a park ranger found the words TEMPE HIGH! sprayed over the rock above a pile of empty beer cans. In time, the rock was restored and a cage was permanently installed around the site.

And, once again, Fray Marcos de Niza was totally dissed.

There are a number of versions of the tale which finds bassist and singer Arlester ‘Dyke’ Christian,  guitarist Alvester ‘Pig’ Jacobs and saxophonist J.V. Hunt arriving in Phoenix in 1965: that the band they were backing (The O’Jays) bailed on them at the end of a tour, stranding them without return air fare to the East Coast; or that they followed an entrepreneurial DJ out to the the valley and stuck around town when he left for L.A. Either way, they soon recruited organist Rich Cason, bassist Alvin Battle (Dyke switching exclusively to vocals), drummer Rodney Brown and tenor saxophonist Bernard Williams, and Dyke & the Blazers was born.

The following year they released the Dyke composition Funky Broadway Pts 1 & 2 on the Phoenix Artco label. Cut at the legendary Audio Recorders studio on N. Seventh St. (Duane Eddy, Lee Hazelwood, 3000 gallon water tank), it was edited down to 45-length from a 25 minute workout. Representing their gritty, sweaty form of early funk, the song was written by Dyke while he lived near 24th St. and Broadway Rd. It became a huge local hit before being picked up for distribution by L.A.’s Original Sounds and going national, hitting both the R&B and Top 100 charts. It was also the song which popularized the term ‘funk’ - radio had stayed away from titles containing the word because of its sexual connotations, but the time must have been right - Funky Broadway was the first.

The group toured to support the hit, playing the Apollo in Harlem and Dick Clark’s American Bandstand in 1967. Funky Broadway was soon covered by Wilson Pickett, Atlantic Records’ muscle pushing it to even greater heights (it has also been covered by the Supremes, Jackie Wilson, Sam & Dave, Terence Trent Darby and even the Godfather, J.B.). With that came the fat royalty checks and the Cadillacs - for Dyke, the song’s writer; the rest of the band had to settle for $100 for a gruelling five shows a day, five days a week. Before long the original Blazers had all thrown in the towel…

But the story doesn’t end there. Dyke, now working with a group of West Coast musicians, continued to cut raw, vibrant material, such as the stomping We Got More Soul. These guys formed the nucleus of what became the Watts 103rd St Rhythm Band, reaching new levels of funkdom when they joined forces with Charles Wright (Express Yourself, etc.).

By this time, however, Dyke Christian unfortunately was no longer around to spread his gospel. In an apparent argument/tussle with a dealer, he was shot dead on March 13, 1971 in the vicinity of 12th Ave. and W. Buckeye. He died just a few blocks away from the street he immortalized. The name of the street: funky funky Broadway.

While the American Bandstand performance of Funky Broadway has proved impossible to find, here is a storming version by the Wicked Pickett, from 1968’s Dance Crazy. TURN IT UP!!

Buffalo’s Soul Men from The Buffalo News / Sunday, August 11, 1991

Interview with Dyke’s drummer, the legendary James Gadson