Tuesday, March 19, 2024

Viva Guadalupe!

 

We apparently have become members of a cult.  But don’t worry.  It’s not a real "culty" cult.  And we didn’t get lured into it but rather let ourselves get enfolded by it.  As do most Santa Feans.  
We learned of this not-so-secret sect in the “19th Century New Mexico History” Continuing Education Class given by Santa Fe Community College.  Although the school itself is less than one mile up the road from us, this lecture (lunch included) was held on the opposite side of town at Four Seasons Resort Rancho Encantado.  An even better location than those rare moments at UConn back in the ‘60s when on a warm spring day class was held outdoors under the flowering crab trees on the banks of Mirror Lake.
Our lecturer was enthusiastic, knowledgable and lucid.  But time limitations prevented more than a surface look at some of the topics – most notably for us, the “cult of Guadalupe.”  Now we’ve considered ourselves fans of the Virgin of Guadalupe since we first saw her story back in CT in the “Viva” episode of the 1990s PBS television program “Wishbone.”   And sure, we do have more than a few of her likenesses in our home.  But “cult”?  WTH!   So we did a little research.  
First, it turns out the word “cult” is used differently in Catholic theology versus everyday language.    In common parlance cult “refers to a person or group that uses psychological and emotional manipulation to control others.  But in Catholic theology  … any liturgical or prayer devotion centered around a particular saint is referred to as a cult.” (cathlic.com)  
So how did the Virgin of Guadalupe attract such a following?  
For starters she was a “Marian apparition” – one of the “appearances of the Blessed Virgin Mary, coming down from heaven to earth.”  (ascensionpress.com)  Sixteen such materializations have been recognized as “authentic” by the Vatican.  Nine more are “yet to be recognized” but likely to be certified.  

Guadalupe and Tonantzin (mexicolore)

The “Virgin Mary with an Indian face” (as she is sometimes known) appeared to Nahua Native Juan Diego four times in 1531 on the hill of Tepeyac in today’s Mexico City.  Speaking in the Aztec language, she instructed him to tell the Bishop of Mexico to build a church in her honor on that spot, also the site where Natives worshipped Aztec goddess of earth and fertility, Tonantzin.    The Bishop disregarded Juan Diego’s first three petitions.  At her fourth appearance the Virgin instructed her messenger to to pick flowers from the hill, wrap them in his cape (“tilma”), and bring them to the Bishop.  When Juan Diego unfurled his cloak the blossoms poured onto the floor revealing an imprint of the Virgin's image on the cloth. The visual worked and a small chapel was quickly built to house the tilma.  Today the image is preserved behind an impenetrable glass screen in the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Mexico City.   
 
 

The original tilma of Juan Diego (wikipedia)

The origin of the “Guadalupe” name is unresolved.   Some believe it is a mispronunciation of a name given by Indigenous Mexicans.  Most historians however say it was cribbed straight from  “Our Lady of Guadalupe, Extremadura,” a 14th century Marian apparition in Guadalupe Spain.  Spanish settlers brought or re-created things from their homeland that they were familiar with (food, religious objects, etc.)  Extremadura would have been well known to them.  Some may have even been members of her cult – perhaps latching on to the new world apparition as their local equivalent.  
The Bishop created no written accounts of the event.  Nor did he promote the caped image in any way. “The Catholic clergy in 16th century Mexico were deeply divided as to the orthodoxy of the native beliefs springing up around the image of Guadalupe, with the Franciscan order [custodians of the chapel at Tepeyac] being strongly opposed … while the Dominicans supported it.” (wikipedia.com)  The subsequent Bishop, a Dominican, recommended popular devotion to “Our Lady of Guadalupe” and visitations to the chapel where he said miracles had occurred.  Franciscans countered that the Bishop was promoting “a superstitious regard for an indigenous image,” which they said was not in fact a self-portrait by the Virgin but rather created by “the Indian painter Marcos.”   
Meanwhile at the grass roots level “devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe among the Nahuas slowly but steadily spread, gaining in popularity so that by the middle of the seventeenth century it had firm support even among the clerical elite of Mexico” (nd.edu)  Interestingly the Natives seemed to only make pilgrimages to Tepeyac chapel and not the other churches built in her honor.  It likewise took hold among Spaniards in Mexico.  In 1666 the Catholic Church began investigating the apparitions and in 1754 approved Guadalupe as the patron saint of New Spain.  (248 years later Juan Diego was canonized a saint by Pope John Paul II.)
Before its colonization by Spain Mexico did not exist as a named geographic entity.   And “Mexican” was not yet a nationality.  The land instead was the domain of several major civilizations (Olmec, Maya, Teotihuacan, Toltec, and Aztec) resulting in a population of about 60 indigenous groups when it was conquered in 1521 and dubbed New Spain.   Spain filled its new colony with mostly male settlers from the mother country and other European nations, plus Moors from Africa.  Intermarriage created an ever-increasing mestizo population of mixed European, Amerindian and African heritage – plus “pure” Spanish.  This new demographic began to see itself as deserving of its own country.  
By the 19th century Guadalupe had become a symbol of that national pride and desire for independence.   In 1810 “father of Mexican independence” Padre Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, marching under the banner of Our Lady of Guadalupe captured several major cities west of Mexico City.  “Soon Hidalgo was at the gates of the capital, but he hesitated, and the opportunity was lost.  His followers melted away [and]  Hidalgo fled north, hoping to escape into the United States. He was caught, expelled from the priesthood, and executed by firing squad as a rebel.” (brittanica.com)  
In 1821 Mexico won its war of independence and also with it control of New Mexico.  As Mexicans migrated to the northern part of their new country they of course brought Guadalupe.  But New Mexico had been part of New Spain for 223 years and already had its own Marian cults – notably one devoted to a 30-inch-tall wooden statue of the Virgin know as “La Conquistadora” (Our Lady of Conquering Love.) 

La Conquistadora, ca. 2007 (wikipedia)

Hand-carved from the wood of willow and European olive trees, and ring-dated to between the mid 15th and 17th centuries she was brought to Santa Fe by Fray Alonso de Benavides in 1626 and placed in the adobe church that was then on the site of the current basilica.   During the 1680 Pueblo Revolt the sculpture was rescued from the burning church and brought by the expelled Spanish settlers to El Paso, TX where they sheltered until their 1692 “Reconquest” of New Mexico.   Don Diego de Vargas, leader of re-takeover, believed that she had answered his prayers to regain Santa Fe without too much bloodshed.  (Native Americans and most historians disagree.)   He rebuilt the church that had been destroyed during the revolt in honor of the figure he dubbed Nuestra SeƱora de la Conquista.   The statue is now housed in Santa Fe’s Cathedral Basilica of Saint Francis Assisi.  Since 1650 she has been cared for by the Confraternity of Our Lady of the Rosary who are responsible for her safety as well as maintaining her extensive collection of gowns, robes, veils, wigs, and jewelry.   (Over 300 outfits.)  The annual Fiesta de Santa Fe was created to give thanks for her role in the reconquest. 
Spain never had enough priests in New Mexico.  Mexico even less.  This dearth of clergy prompted many unauthorized religious practices among Catholic New Mexicans desperate to practice their faith – local creation of and personal devotion to painted and sculpted religious images, formation of the lay brotherhood of the Penitentes and (not surprisingly) increased allegiance to cults, especially those of the Virgin Mary in her various manifestations.  

Fast forward to 1992 and our first visit to Santa Fe.  There was art everywhere – museums, gift shops, pricey galleries, public spaces, clothing, jewelry, low-rider cars and more.  Much, maybe most, Catholic themed – especially the Virgin of Guadalupe.  (We now know that such “folk art” is a continuation of the above mentioned 18th century painted and sculpted religious images.)


An ex-voto painting thanks a divine “helper”  who saved someone from a dangerous situation.
Historically they were painted on tin salvaged from packaging. 
 
Delia Cosentino who teaches a course on Guadalupe at DePaul University believes her to be the most widely circulated image in the Western Hemisphere.
“She is a Catholic symbol in association with a new tradition … At a certain level, she has become her own religion. Her Catholic origins are just a one part of her. They're significant, and I don't mean to underplay that. But I'm most comfortable suggesting she is her own religion ... the idea that you could embrace her and she could serve whatever needs you have, regardless of your ethnic or religious identity, is an important part of her as well.”
Or phrased less academically “The Guadalupe is just a cool image, more so than the rest. It's just pretty to look at. The light radiating, the bright blue cloak, the little angel – it's an appealing image.  While the image exhibits tenderness and accessibility it's also visually attractive, packing symbolism to a degree most icons of Western civilization don't … It's an experience in and of itself.”  (Seattle Times)
 
To which we say, “Viva Guadalupe!” – cult or no cult.
 

 

Friday, December 22, 2023

Something is Mssing

 

Shortly before we relocated to Santa Fe, New Mexico Jim was discussing our impending move with one of the members of our Newington, CT health club. “Do they have supermarkets out there?” he asked in all seriousness. Jim assured him that they did – with paved parking lots even.

Although at the time we were quite surprised by the question we’ve since come to realize that New Mexico is, to put it mildly, not a “known quantity” to a good portion of those who live outside of our country’s 47th state.

Something residents of the “Land of Enchantment” have become used to – and bemused by.  New Mexico Magazine – the nation’s first state magazine (1923) and published monthly in print, online and via an iOS app (yeah we have that out here also) – has a regular column called “One of Our 50 is Missing” wherein readers submit their own “missing moments.”

Some are probably because people just don’t listen carefully or mis-hear what is being said, e.g. – a resident of Rio Rancho, NM tried to refill a prescription while vacationing on Cape Cod, MA to be told by the pharmacist that they had no idea how to process an order from a foreign country.

Others are clearly a lack of knowledge – an article in a London England newspaper showing a map of a new luxury railroad in Utah placed New Mexico east of Colorado.

A few simply defy explanation – at Texas Christian University, in Fort Worth one Santa Fean was asked if we have different stars in New Mexico. “Probably because they only have one in Texas,” the magazine opined.

And our own personal “missing moment,” which was more disconcerting than humorous. We were on the computer updating one of our financial accounts to our new New Mexico home address. The change was processed without a hitch. But we were re-classified us a “foreign investors.” We turned the problem over to our investment advisor.

And then there’s New Mexico’s imaginary cactus. Residents of Arizona are rightfully proud of their Saguaros, tree-like cacti that can grow to be between 40-60 feet tall – but only in their part of the Sonoran Desert plus the Mexican state of Sonora and California’s Whipple Mountains and Imperial County. NOT New Mexico!

That doesn’t prevent it from being used as NM imagery. Grammy-winning country musician Kacey Musgraves’ song “Dime Store Cowgirl,” includes the line “I’ve driven through New Mexico, where the saguaro cactus grow.”



Even Progressive Insurance’s ever-cheerful spokesperson Flo is featured on a mail-offer envelope amid images of a saguaro cacti and the invitation to “Enjoy Big Savings in the Land of Enchantment.”

Or maybe New Mexico actually is “missing.” Jim was explaining to guests at El Rancho de las Golondrinas that its big grist mill (Molino Grande) was once a commercial business from the 1880s through the 1920s. (It was moved from Las Vegas, NM to the museum in the 1970s.) It was unusual he said that the machinery remained intact through 50 years of non-use, especially during WWII when the U.S. was looking for scrap metal for the war effort. One visitor, clearly a local, commented, “nobody knew where we were then either.”


And truth be told we did not know much at all about New Mexico before we landed here in September 1992 looking to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary in an exotic but stateside locale. Our interest was piqued by a retrospective of the New Mexican artist Georgia O’Keeffe’s works at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City – super-arid deserts, psychedelic colored mountains, floating desiccated cow skulls, stark wooden crosses in the middle of nowhere – those sorts of things. We immediately knew we wanted to see the surreal environment inspired these crazily abstract paintings.







Other than that, our knowledge of the Land of Enchantment was pretty much based upon Jim’s dim recollection of a turquoise stone in a collection of “Gemstones by State” given to him as a child (his favorite of the set of then 48.) And what we got from the novel “The Milagro Beanfield War” by John Nichols and its eponymous movie adaptation – “the book all newcomers to New Mexico should read, offering the flavor of this place with its competing cultures and values,” according to the Santa Fe New Mexican.  Set in the fictional Chicano village of Milagro the “War” is a folklore fable in the Latin American magical realism tradition (daily earthly meetups with heavenly angels) where a small-time farmer is struggling to defend his modest beanfield and community against larger business and state political interests. An “earthily naturalistic, often highly romanticized, blend of the supernatural and whimsical” per movie critic Richard Scheib. (Sadly, while this essay was being composed author John Nichols died at the age of 83.)

An impressionistic landscape, out-of-the ordinary gemology and magical elements as a normal part of life – that was enough for us. So off we went with no fixed agenda other than four nights in Santa Fe and three in Taos. (We had not much vacation time available then. And weren’t totally sure we would like it enough to spend more than week there anyway.)

We quickly learned that (1) the super-arid deserts were not the vast expanses of sand we expected but rather vast expanses of “high desert” (ecosystems at high altitudes with little precipitation.) And the state’s geology also included snow-capped 13,000’ peaks dressed in pines and spruce, brilliant wildflower fields, forests of towering cottonwoods, white sand dunes and vast expanses of prairie. (2) The psychedelic colored mountains really did exist – in certain places, at certain times, in certain light – for example the Sangre de Cristo mountains at sunrise seen from the parking area at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge 10 miles northwest of Taos. (3) Desiccated cow skulls are pretty commonplace, esp. in gift shops, but never hovering aloft. At least not on that trip. (4) The stark wooden crosses in the middle of nowhere are intentional, put there by a secretive Catholic lay brotherhood known as Penitentes. And (5) turquoise is anything but out-of-the ordinary here – although the jewelry into which it is incorporated definitely can be.

On our mid-vacation drive from Santa Fe to Taos we passed by the village of Truchas where the Milagro Beanfield War movie was filmed. The tiny rural township looked exactly like what it was portrayed as – a tiny rural township just trying to live its day-to-day life. We did not stop to look around. So no reports on the actuality of angels dancing out of a sunrise or into a sunset. And spent our time instead in the more tourist-oriented towns of Santa Fe, Taos and Albuquerque. All were foreign to us (as in different) – yet familiar (as if we belonged.)
Maybe it was the beige – said by some to be boring, by others neutral, calm, and relaxing.

Everything around us seemed to be a pale sandy yellowish-brown. Adobe buildings, foliage-free landscapes. All under a deep blue sky. And art was everywhere. Hispanic-Catholic folk art portrayed a comfortable, personal relationship between the artist, their religious subject matter and their faith. The hand-dug, hand-coiled, hand-painted Native American clay pottery told of their craftsperson’s connection to the land and geometric complexity of their indigenous beliefs.

With the little knowledge that we now had, we were already hooked.

On our way north from Santa Fe, driving for the first time down what we now know as Opera Hill on U.S. Route 25 we looked out on the vast expanse of Espanola Valley – beige (of course) under the boundless blue sky. No saguaro cactus for hundreds of miles. Both of our jaws dropped (at least in our minds.) Marsha thought. “this is where I belong.”
Thirty-seven years later we finally got here – and contacted our long-time homeowners and auto insurer AMICA who has a southwest office with a representative who frequents Santa Fe. It is fun to joke about living in a place that no one knows about. But not when our financial protection is involved. Sorry Flo.

Incidentally: Even Santa Claus almost “missed” New Mexico. He was not a part of Indigenous Native, Spanish or Mexican culture and probably did not arrive in any form until the late 19th century when the railroads came to town – the beginning of the end of New Mexico’s isolation. But Santa didn’t begin to catch on among the locals until post WWII, when servicemen came home inculcated with northern European influences. And not quite then even. Poet Maria Leyba remembers, “In the early 50’s we lived in Santa Fe, my Mexican mom had never heard of Santa Claus but all our vecinas [neighbors] explained to her about this tradition. Wanting to fit in she made sure we weren’t deprived of Santa. But my cousins in MĆ©xico celebrated the three kings and the Santo Nino, not Santa Claus!”

Nowadays Saint Nick knows the way to Santa Fe. When he looks down and sees Arizona’s saguaro forest he turns east until he comes to a cow skull floating over a Penitente cross in the high desert. That’s New Mexico.

 



(Found this by Google searching for “Santa Claus in New Mexico."
Apparently Santa’s Graphic Design department did not get the saguaro memo.)



The Case of the Curiously Convenient Coffin!

 

It was a normal trip for Kate Messervy Kingsbury – two months of dust, mud, gnats, mosquitoes and heat, plus the occasional swollen stream, wildfire, hailstorm, strong wind, blizzard and ever-present peril of Ute or Apache Indian attack. She disliked both of her previous treks, but knew that this, her third such punishing journey, offered the last, best hope for survival. Then, just east of Dodge City, Kansas her husband John opened a crate labeled “private stores” – and inside it was a zinc-lined casket.

“The Case of the Curiously Convenient Coffin!” True crime TV from CBS’s 48 Hours or NBC’s Dateline? No. Just another tale from the Santa Fe Trail – one of New Mexico’s most historic transportation avenues.

Each of New Mexico’s major eras – Pre-Columbian, Spanish Colonial, Mexican and United States – had its own major artery – the North-South Indigenous Trade Route, El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro, Santa Fe Trail and Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway (AT&SF.)

Long before the Europeans arrived the kingdoms and tribes of northern Mexico set up the NORTH-SOUTH INDIGENOUS TRADE ROUTE into present day Colorado to swap items such as turquoise, obsidian, salt and feathers with Native Americans.

Built from this original pathway EL CAMINO REAL was a 1,600 mile long road linking Mexico City and San Juan Pueblo, 40 miles north of Santa Fe. Used as a trade route by the Spanish Colonials from 1598 to 1821 and – since the mother country forbade business dealings with anyone else – THE ONLY source of commerce and culture into New Mexico.

SANTA FE TRAIL was an 800-mile wagon route connecting Missouri and Santa Fe between 1821 and 1880. (Mexico, unlike Spain, welcomed outside trade, especially from United States.) After the U.S. - Mexico War ended in 1848, it became THE highway that connected the more settled parts of the United States to the new southwest territories – used by merchants, the military, stagecoach lines, gold seekers, adventurers, missionaries and emigrants.

In 1866 railroad expansion began in the new state of Kansas, and by 1873, two different rail lines reached from there into Colorado. Three different railroads vied to serve the New Mexico market. The ATCHISON, TOPEKA & SANTA FE got there first in February 1880.

El Rancho de las Golondrinas Living History Museum, our volunteer gig, was a working ranch and camping stop on the Camino Real beginning around 1720. Its gateway exhibit area, Golondrinas Placita, is interpreted as such. The adjacent section, Baca Placita, depicts the era of the Santa Fe Trail from 1821 to 1846. Across the creek on the “Far Side” portrays late 19th century New Mexico after the arrival of the railroad.

We are given instruction and historical information on each period. And encouraged to educate ourselves further. To that end we also belong to the End of the Trail chapter of Santa Fe Trail Association (SFTA.) (Our branch’s name refers to its position as the terminus of the trade route – not to the age of its supporters.) Its membership includes many retired educators and others with an interest in studying, documenting and sharing their findings about the Trail in person and on paper. Plus local historians and archaeologists who also bring interesting subjects to the table. Such as “The Case of the Curiously Convenient Coffin!” – actual title “Death at the End of the Trail.” (Less tabloid-y. But still informative, like the lecture itself.)

Much of the SF Trail research is based on personal accounts and diaries of those who traveled that road. Among them the roadway’s founder, Captain William Becknell – here describing his virgin voyage. “The next day, after crossing a mountainous country, we arrived at Santa Fe and were received with apparent pleasure and joy. It is situated in a valley of the mountains, on a branch of the Rio del Norte [Rio Grande] … about two miles long and one mile wide, and compactly settled.”

Most travelers were merchants seeking to quickly sell their goods and return home – “a short-term enterprise, with all the attendant hardships and exposure to harm, so it held no place or attraction for women,” according to historian and co-founder of the SFTA Marc Simmons. “Notwithstanding, there was a significant number of women who faced the westering experience with unquenchable optimism and, indeed, if diaries can be accepted as barometers of true sentiment, there were some who embarked with downright eagerness. The change of routine, the excitement of prairie travel, and life in the open air soon won over others who had started with dread and apprehension.

“Marian [Sloan] Russell, perhaps best representative of such women, discovered on the trail to New Mexico an exhilarating adventure that shaped the future course of her life,” As Mrs Russell phrased it, “this was a land of enchantment, where gods walked in the cool of the evening.” (Possibly the first usage of New Mexico’s nickname.)

Additional chroniclers were nuns like Sister Blandina Segale of the Sisters of Charity – “Trinidad [Colorado] has lost its frontier aspect … Billy the Kid’s gang is dissolved … The remaining men who were ready at the least provocation or no provocation (except that of strong drink) to raise the trigger have settled down to domestic infelicity.” (Is that disappointment in her voice?)

Another group was wives of military officers assigned to the forts being established in the southwest during 1850s and 60s. Alice Blackwood Baldwin made her trip in the fortification’s ambulance – upscaled for comfort. “Soft, upholstered seats that were extended when required and served as beds at night … The floor was covered with straw, over which rugs were laid to keep out as much of the cold as possible.”

Merchants settling in New Mexico to establish permanent shops often took their wives and families. Samuel Magoffin brought his new 18-year-old bride Susan Shelby – the “properly educated” daughter of a wealthy plantation-owning family. Like Alice Baldwin she traveled west in relative luxury – “one Dearborn with two mules (this concern carries my maid), our own carriage with two more mules.” They “glamped” (in modern lingo) in a carpeted tent with a bed and mattress, table and chairs.

Her carriage rolled over and the tent collapsed during a violent storm. Susan took ill in Bent Fort, CO and one day after her 19th birthday suffered a miscarriage. Reaching Santa Fe on August 31 they moved into “quite a nice little place.” Two months later, and once again expecting, the couple headed to Mexico on the Camino Real. “I do think a woman emberaso [pregnant] has a hard time of it, some sickness all the time, heartburn, headache, cramps etc., after all this thing of marrying is not what it is cracked up to be.”

In July 1847 she gave birth to a son, who died shortly thereafter. Her diary ends two months later. Samuel sold the Santa Fe business and the couple moved to Kirkwood, Missouri where Susan gave birth to two daughters, then died in 1855 at age 28.

All these individual stories made us wonder about journeyers on the Trail from our former home state. We found but one – a memoir-writing merchant with a serendipitous two-degrees-of-separation connection to the aforementioned occupant of the zinc-lined coffin.

Born in Warren, CT “James Josiah Webb was one of the most prominent traders on the Santa Fe Trail from the 1840s into the early 1860s. He made 18 trips to Santa Fe as well as maintaining a store there.” Among his partners were William S. Messervy and John M. Kingsbury – brother and husband of the casket’s occupant. In 1839 Webb and Messervy opened a store in Santa Fe selling fabrics, groceries, housewares, and hardware obtained in the northern marketplaces. Kingsbury joined the firm in 1849 spending the majority of his time until 1861 in Santa Fe. He married Kate in 1853.

Prior to her marriage Kate was diagnosed with tuberculosis. “One prescribed therapy for the disease … was a regimen of travel to more healthful climates, where fresh air and rest supposedly provided much of the cure”

Kate moved to Santa Fe in 1854 and gave birth to a son in January 1855. According to correspondence between the two brothers-in-law the child was “not perfect.” Kingsbury, concerned that Kate’s health and stamina “were weary” from caring for their sick child, sent them both home to her family in Massachusetts, where sadly the boy died.

Kate’s doctor advised them, “her lungs are past cure. All that remains ... is to get her back again to Santa Fe if possible. Her friends think different. They say if we start she will never reach St. Louis … What am I to do? She is willing to start & wants to leave here.”

Mid-March 1857 Kate, John, her sister Eliza Ann and Facunda (her New Mexican maid) were on their way back to Santa Fe. James Josiah Webb described her last night, June 5, 1857.

“Mrs. Kingsbury was at no time improved in health on the whole route … then just after midnight she seemed to realize the end was close. She said, ‘is it possible that I have come this far on my way and must now take leave of you all?’ She then commended with perfect composure, and took leave of her sister and John. She wished to assure them that the course they had pursued was in every respect to her satisfaction, and asked forgiveness for every hasty expression, or unkind word that had passed her lips during her illness, her every wish had been complied with, and everything in the power of man had been done to promote her comfort.”

John had anticipated this sad possibility and wanted to give his wife a proper Christian burial rather than leaving her in an unprotected grave at the side of the Trail. He knew that neither embalming nor ice would be available. So Kate’s body was placed in the tightly-sealed zinc-lined box to slow down the rate of bodily decomposition. Then he and Eliza Ann accompanied it to Santa Fe, covering the 375 miles in a record 11 days. She was interred at Masons and Odd Fellows Cemetery, the only burying ground for people not of the Catholic faith. At the end of the 19th century, several old cemeteries were “decommissioned” and new ones placed outside of town. Sometime between 1890 and 1903, Kate’s remains were exhumed and moved to the new Odd Fellows Cemetery.

James Josiah Webb provided almost 20 years of retail service to New Mexico – most while living in Connecticut. He retired from the trade business in 1861 and died in Hamden, CT 28 years later.

The Trail Association says that Webb “left a comprehensive archive … more extensive than any other trader.” So excited about the new land, culture and people he was experiencing that he just had to share it.

Some people are like that you know.



You may ask – “Any idea how many died along the trail? No clue. No records of any kind relating to that were kept. But probably not many compared to the totality of those who traveled the Trail … many were buried in unmarked graves.” (Larry D. Short, President, SFTA)


Numerous diaries and journals of the above-mentioned travelers and others are available online or through Amazon.com and other booksellers – e.g. William Becknell, https://archive.org/details/GR_0225/mode/2up Marian Sloan Russell, https://www.amazon.com/Land-Enchantment-Memoirs-Marian-Russell/dp/0826308058 James Josiah Webb. https://www.amazon.com/Books-James-Josiah-Webb/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3AJames+Josiah+Webb





Wednesday, July 05, 2023

Interesting individuals artfully memorialized in a distinctive setting

 

Recently we toured the cemetery in Madrid in the San Pedro Mountains on NM 14 (the “Turquoise Trail.”) 30 miles south of our Santa Fe home.  Our guides were three local friends – current neighbor J, and former ones L and J, with whom we get together for lunch every month or so. This was our May meetup. “But why visit that town’s graveyard?” you might ask. Well we would respond, Madrid is much more than a small community of 300 people living in the remnants of a once-thriving, coal-mining company town. It now is one of “the 12 Best Hippie Cities For Stressed-Out Progressives.”  With such a unique past and present, who wouldn’t want to see how they memorialize their deceased?  Plus its  village tavern serves a pretty darn good buffalo burger.

 

There are nine other towns in the world named Madrid. The capitol city of Spain of course. Plus one each in Alabama, Colorado, Iowa, Kentucky, Maine, Nebraska, New York and Virginia. Most pronounce it “Muh-DRID” – the way the Spanish do. Alabamans and Mainers say MAD-rid. New Yorkers accept either version.  “Madroids,” as the NM town’s residents like to call themselves, emphasize the “MAD.” 

 

All of these cities have their own history.  Here briefly is that of Madrid, New Mexico.

 

The town most likely was given its name by Roque Madrid – a 17th & 18th century Spanish conquistador who briefly became interested in mining lead in the area. “Madrid” is a “habitational surname” indicating where a person came from – meaning Roque would have pronounced both his last name and that of his namesake village in the Spanish way.  We could not find the answer as to why or when that pronunciation changed.

 

Roque’s interest in quarrying went nowhere. And the small village remained of no particular importance until 1822 when gold miners came to the area, found coal and used it to operate their nearby gold mill at Dolores. (There was a small amount of the yellow metal in New Mexico.)

By 1859 the New Mexico Mining Company owned the coalfield and sold the ore to military forts at Santa Fe and Las Vegas, NM during the Civil War.  More coal was discovered – ownership changed hands – and in the 1890's Madrid had become a regional mining center and company town with around 2,500 inhabitants belonging to the Albuquerque & Cerrillos Coal Co.  By 1920 all Madrid homes were wired for electricity from the company-owned power plant.  Plus there were Elementary and High Schools, a fully equipped hospital, a Company Store, and the first lighted ballpark West of the Mississippi – home to the Madrid Blues, who competed with squads from Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Bernalillo and Isleta Pueblo.

Madrid’s coal production peaked in 1928 with almost 200,000 tons. And in 1943 one hundred tons of coal a day were delivered to its new primary customer, the then secret city of Los Alamos. In 1947 the A&CCC’s Chief Operating Officer Oscar Huber purchased the company becoming the sole owner of the now flourishing town.


Life was good. Until natural gas came on the scene in the late 1940s and the coal market collapsed. By 1954 the mining company had closed, all but a hundred or so residents had moved away, and an ad in the Wall Street Journal listed the entire town for sale at a price of $250,000 ($2.8 million today.) There were no takers.

Oscar Huber died in 1962. In the early 1970s his son Joe rented a few of the old company houses to artists and craftsmen who wanted to work and live in the mountains of New Mexico. Having success he put the remaining buildings on sale – $1,500 to $2,000, sold them all in 16 days and Madrid’s population swelled to 80. Huber donated more land and a new Madrid began to rise from the coal dust. How well did it go?  In 2016 the town was named number four of “The 12 Best Hippie Cities For Stressed-Out Progressives” by ReverbPress.  “Madrid is a town reborn. Originally a coal-mining town, it disappeared along with the popularity of coal, becoming a ghost town of abandoned buildings. Those buildings have been restored … painted in a colorful array of hues [and] become home to an artists’ colony, but in a deserty, mountainous environment [and unlike SantaFe] removed from the madding crowd.”

 



(Actual, untouched-up photo of downtown Madrid.)

 

A brief stop in Madrid was a regular part of our New Mexico visits – usually after spending our arrival day and night in Albuquerque, and driving the Turquoise Trail to Santa Fe the next morning. And we’ve continued these trips now that the town is just down the road from our Santa Fe home. Easily 50 or more stopovers. But we had never heard about “Madrid’s Bone Orchard.”

And we definitely would have sought it out. As we’ve indicated in some of our earlier writings we are definitely “FoCs” (Fans of Cemeteries.)  Back in CT we particularly enjoyed visiting Hartford, CT’s Cedar Hill and Wethersfield, CT’s Old Village  – interesting individuals artfully memorialized in a distinctive setting, 

 

But there were no indications of Madrid Cemetery anywhere that we had seen. Like so many things out here – you gotta know somebody who knows somebody. It this case it was our neighbor J whose former companion’s ashes are interred there.

 

We rode in two cars – none of us having large vehicles. We were following J. As we slowly drove into the town (posted speed limit 15 mph) she made an abrupt right into what appeared to be a narrow alleyway. But turned out to be a slightly less narrow, two-mile long, uphill, winding dirt and rock road (unposted speed limit 10 mph.) The unimproved path passed by several colorfully and artfully decorated small houses before coming to an end next to a wrought iron entry gate welcoming us to the “Land of the Dead.”

Given our two-score-plus-ten previous explorations of the town, our self-proclaimed FoC zealotry and familiarity with our friends’ overall standards we had pretty high expectations for the burying grounds. And we have to say they were absolutely exceeded.

At this point we would normally interject a little history of Madrid Cemetery. But Jim’s internet research has turned up nothing. There is no Madrid Historical Society. Not surprising in a town that died then was re-birthed in the past 50 years by a small group of people who look more to the present and future than to the past. Jim thought of having one-on-ones with locals over beers at the town’s Mindshaft Tavern to see what they might know. But under doctor/spousal advice we will instead do our own conjecturing based on what we have learned about NM cemeteries in general.

Prior to the arrival of the Spanish the only funerary practices were those of the Native Indians – most involving burial, some cremation. The 16th and 17th century conquering Spanish sought to change these rituals to those of the Catholic religion – with varying degrees of success. In most instances the Native Americans simply added Catholicism to their traditional ceremonies and belief. Sometimes they carried on their old rituals secretly under the veil of their newly taught religion. Only Catholics were allowed burial in Catholic cemeteries. For non-Catholics there were no official cemeteries

When Mexico acquired New Mexico in their war of independence from Spain they invited trade from the United States, largely in the form of merchants who traveled the Santa Fe Trail. Many were Jewish or Protestant. This brought missionary ministers and Rabbis to care spiritually for those newcomers who chose to stay. And to convert those already here whose religious needs were not being fulfilled by the inadequate number of Catholic priests. Their arrival resulted in the establishment of non-Catholic burying grounds. In Santa Fe the Masons and Odd Fellows established the initial such cemetery in 1853. In 1881 the Montefiore Cemetery in Las Vegas, NM became one of the first Jewish burial places west of the Mississippi. And many Company Towns established them for their deceased residents.

So why all this background? Today’s Madrid Cemetery is actually two graveyards – old and new, side by side – both set in a totally untilled, take-it-as-it-is, high desert landscape partially enclosed by one non-continuous strand of barbed wire. To the right is a typical western rural cemetery – wooden crosses, weathered/crumbling/intact headstones and piles of stones. (The corpses are “six feet under.” The rocks protect from the ravages of coyotes, etc.) The names that we saw here were Hispanic and the dates of death from the 1920s and 30s. Some sites were being taken over by nature. Others cared for and decorated with fresh plastic flowers. One new gravestone seemed out of sync with its plot.



 

The layout of this section is largely freeform and overgrown. We did not wander its entirety and could not even guess at its total size. Clearly from the coal mining era – but Catholic, private non-sectarian, company provided? No way to know for sure.
However, with just a little knowledge of today’s Madrid, even a first time visitor can decipher the heritage of the new section.

If not for the adjacent traditional burial ground, and a couple of similar stone-covered sites you might easily mistake this for a sculpture garden of quirky works of folk art with an ironically titled entry portal. Until you read the accompanying signage with names and date ranges and realize that you are gazing instead at a collection of highly personalized, heart-felt memorials. A front bicycle tire and handlebars, a sewing machine, a fire extinguisher and hard-hat – phrases such as “to the butte” or an illustration of racked pool balls on the marker – a wrought-iron portrayal of someone reading on a bench. By the shape of the plot you can tell that some are resting places for bodies, some for ashes.  The new section also had a rudimentary performance stage with folding chairs leaning against its side. As well as a Maypole complete with ribbons. (It was that month.)

 




 

 

Interesting individuals artfully memorialized in a distinctive setting? Most definitely yes! And as survivors of the 1960s we would also add, “far out!”