No Life for a Lady

No Life for a Lady, by Agnes Morley Cleaveland. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1941.

Litte Buckaroo

The whole time I was reading this old New Mexico classic, I was thinking, "Oh, this is the life I was meant to live!" I had been a little misplaced buckaroo, living out my early years in San Francisco, playing cowboys and Indians on sidewalks. Agnes Morley, some 70 years before, was the cowgirl I might have been, if not for the fact that I lived in the wrong time and place.

Agnes was born in New Mexico in 1874. She tells of her life on the family ranch near Datil, and what a life it was. Outlaws and six-shooters and horses and bears. Stage coaches and log cabins and cattle and long, lonesome trails. Here are a few of the chapter titles from the book, just to give you the flavor: While Clay Allison Shot Up the Town; A Fatherless Swiss Family Robinson; Cows Were Our Universe; Twelve Pupils: From Six to Six-Shooter; and Cowpuncher on a Sidesaddle.

In these modern days when children aren't allowed to play outside unsupervised, it just livened me up to read the chapter called "Put a Kid on a Horse," which tells of communication between far-flung ranches in the days before telephones. If a message or some letters or most anything else needed to be delivered over the next mountain, these early ranchers did, indeed, put a kid on a horse to deliver what needed to be sent. Starting when she was 11-years old, Agnes and her younger brother, Ray, made a twenty-mile round trip singly or together every week to Baldwin's (later Datil) to carry the mail bag to and from their ranch.

Much later, Agnes was driving a wagon to the town and back, all alone. Here is what happened:

Once, when I had stopped to 'noon' on a trip to town and my team was feeding, I climbed back into the high seat of the wagon and picked up a book [CZ note: She's a cowgirl and she loves to read, no wonder she's my heroine!]. I did not hear the silent footfall of a horse and was startled when one of the team snorted. I looked up to see a horseman beside the wagon. He was a Mexican, swarthy and begrimed. He looked at me curiously. 

'You all alone?' he asked in his own tongue. I told him I was. 

I could read puzzlement in his face. Mexican girls did not go about alone, even in our country. 

'Why you all alone?' he persisted.

          'Have to,' I told him.

This seemed to puzzle him all the more. He sat looking at me intently. 

'You not afraid?' he asked finally. 

          'No.'

'Why you not afraid?'

I reached under the edge of the Navajo blanket that covered the sea and pulled out my little thirty-two.

He nodded approvingly. 

'Bueno,' he said, and rode on.

If you can find a copy of this book (which is still being reprinted), I would highly recommend that you spend some time with it, dreaming about old-time New Mexico and the life that should have been mine.

No life for a cowgirl!

Pecos; Witness to an Historical Procession

Trail at the Pecos National Historical Monument

Herbert Eugene Bolton, an authority on Spanish American history, had this to say* about Pecos:

[Pecos] was the gateway for Pueblo Indians when they went buffalo hunting on the Plains; a two-way pass for barter and war between Pueblos and Plains tribes; a portal through the mountains for Spanish explorers, traders, and buffalo hunters; for the St. Louis caravan traders with Santa Fe; for pioneer Anglo American settlers; for Spanish and Saxon Indian fighters; for Civil War armies; and for a transcontinental railroad passing through the Southwest.

It is no wonder that, to me, the silences of this very still place are amplified by the sensation that thousands of voices have, just the moment before, stopped talking, laughing, singing, crying out, and shouting.

Looking out from the Pecos Mission ruins

* Source for the Bolton quote: Pecos, Gateway to Pueblo and Plains; The Anthology. Edited by John V. Bezy and Joseph P. Sanchez. Tucson: Southwest Parks and Monuments Association, 1988.

A Spunky New Mexico Respectfully Demands...

Kickin Ass Ranch, along the Turquoise Trail between Santa Fe and Albuquerque

I am still investigating the history of how New Mexico became a state, and I came across this document in the Library of Congress An American Time Capsule; Three Centuries of Broadsides and Other Printed Ephemera. 

I have just quoted some pertinent excerpts. To see the entire document and a great many other fascinating historical papers, search the title on the American Time Capsule home page.

I love the language here. It is frustration, pure and simple, and thinly veiled. After all, the New Mexican people had, by this time, been respectfully requesting statehood for over fifty years--it was no doubt time to start demanding. By 1901 they had apparently gotten to the point where they plainly stated their arguments, with very little false humility.

New Mexico’s Memorial to Congress

A Plain Presentation of Well-Known Facts Showing Why the Territory Should be Admitted to the Union as a State. 1901.

 

[The people of New Mexico] respectfully demand... to be admitted into the union on an equal footing with the original states.

a Territorial government is intolerable to a free people...

...because for more than half a century we have been neglected by the nation...

...New Mexico demands statehood because she has shown her right to it...

...she [New Mexico] demands it because she is now better than ever well fitted to assume such higher form of government, as in the last few years she has advanced from fourth to first place as a wool producing and sheep raising section of the nation, and is well on toward first place as a cattle raiser, and her mineral, timber and agricultural interests are vast in extent and are being developed in a phenomenal manner. Railroads are being built, plants erected and industries of different kinds are being established all over the Territory, which has an area as great as that of all the New England States and the State of New York combined. 

...[New Mexico] supports more and better public institutions (all built at its own expense when the National Government ought to have built them, we still being a Territory)...

...because it has within its boundaries not less than fifteen cities and towns that are modern, up-to-date places in every respect, and that are far in advance of places in the eastern States that are of equal size...

...[we] have the finest kind of buildings in which to maintain as fine a system of public schools as exist anywhere west of the Central States, or, in fact, anywhere in the whole nation...

...because the people of the Territory are a conservative, law-abiding people, more than 90 per cent of them being born American citizens, attached to the principles of the constitution of the United States...

...because in more than twelve congresses of the United States the fitness of the people of New Mexico for a state government has been fully investigated, and bills passed in one house or both for the admission of the Territory, all of which failed to become a law through one mishap or another... 

Remember, in spite of the brisk tone of this document (or, because of it?), the New Mexicans were still not granted statehood for another eleven years. 

New Mexico: Statehood is an Ongoing Struggle

There's talk on the news shows about how the Republic of Texas, or its governor, keeps muttering about secession. That made me curious about New Mexico's statehood history. I am sure that if I had been educated here in New Mexico I would know all about how it became a state, but since I am a gypsy of sorts and a relative newcomer I had to do a little research. It turned up some interesting facts.

New Mexico first sought statehood starting in 1850 and continued to do so for more than half a century. In 1906 it even unsuccessfully sought joint statehood with Arizona. It has been suggested that New Mexico’s lack of statehood success was because it was considered too “foreign,” too "Hispanic," and too "Catholic." Alternate possible state names, such as Lincoln and Navajo, were even suggested to make the place sound less foreign.

The long struggle for statehood culminated when President Taft signed the documents making New Mexico the 47th state on January 12, 1912.

Even today, some continue to believe that New Mexico is not a part of the United States. New Mexico Magazine runs a humor column, one of its most popular, called One of Our Fifty is Missing. It details anecdotes in which traveling New Mexicans are congratulated for speaking excellent English, or find that they are unable to order merchandise from another state because the shipping department believes that they live in a foreign country.

The historical information in this post came from A Cuarto Centennial History of New Mexico, by Robert J. Torrez.

The Pintada Kid, Part 1

When I first read a comment on the City-Data New Mexico Forum from "The Pintada Kid," I sensed that I was "hearing" a truly unique voice. Here is part of the comment that so caught my imagination:

"I grew up in the Mountains of N.M. amongst the Old Sheepherders and Ranchers and as a Kid in Grade School i was elected to be the cook for all the Ranch Hands whether i wanted to or not. So i guess cooking is a passion i grew up with plus playing guitar and singing. I like my cooking better then that Tasteless expensive food in some Restaurants."

I just couldn't get that picture out of my mind--a little kid cooking for ranchers and sheepherders... I tried to imagine what his life had been like, but his experiences were so far from mine, that I couldn't really fill in the blanks. So, instead, I watched for more posts that might tell me more, and was eventually rewarded with this one:

"...they didnt have the Child Labor Laws at 8 and 9 years old back then. While all the other little kids in Grade School were looking forward to Summer Break it would mean more Hard Work for me in the Summer and i dreaded it. I would pack my little Bedroll and go work out in the Surrounding Ranches working from Sunup to Sundown Herding Sheep for miles out in the New Mexico Prairies and Milking cows and fixing fences from Sunup to Sundown sometimes late into the Night for 4 dollars a day....

My Grandfather threw me on the Back of a Horse at 8 or 9 years old and hit the horse on the back with a Board and thats how i learned to ride.......... I remember i was about 12 or 13 and we saddled the horses out in the middle of a Pasture early in the Morning and when i got on the Huge Horse that i got on Reared up and came down on top of me and knocked me out. When i got up i looked down at my Feet and my Foot and Toes on my right Foot were Pointing Backwards. I Could hear my Grandfather say the Dam Horse Broke his leg and he picked me up and loaded me on the Truck and we bounced over miles of Rough Country to get to the Nearest Dirt road to get me to a Doctor. My grandfather said i was about to bend the Gear in the Truck with all the Pain i was in. Anyway i woke a couple of days later in the Hospital in Mountainair and spend like 3 months in Traction without getting up from bed at the hospital there. I broke the femur bone the biggest bone in your body in a couple of places it was a compound fracture. After a few more months on Crutches i was back on my feet and riding horses again and back to doing back breaking ranch work.

P.S. As a kid i remember all the Feed Sacks weighed like 100 lbs not like the 40 or 50 lbs they weigh today. My first time deerhunting while i was in Grade School i killed 3 good size buck Deer in less then 24 hours."

Eventually, I found another tantalizing bit:

"My Parents both Died when i was a little kid and my Grandparents raised me and my Grandfather was like a Mountain Man who Could pick up a Truck while my Grandmother changed the Tire and my Grandfather who knew the Mountains and Animals well taught me about the Mountains and animals and hard Work and my Grandmother taught me and my two sisters about Cooking, Gardening and Medicinal Plants etc.

My Grandfather and Grandmother both Died years ago after being married over 50 years they died about a month apart. My Grandmother told my sisters to take her to get her hair done and she died a month after my Grandfather died...

My Grandmother went to Mass every Sunday and like my Grandfather worked every day of their lives without a Vacation. My Grandfather use to tell that when they were fencing out the Land in New Mexico in the early 1900s that they were paying 50 cents a day to do hard work building fences from Sunup to Sundown.

My Grandfather couldnt read or write or talk in English but he knew animals and hard work and whenever a College Educated person would come to the Ranch on some job he would say to me..... AQUI VIENE UNO DESOS QUE SABES MAS Y ENTIENDE MENOS." [Here comes one of those who knows more and understands less. Translation courtesy of The Pintada Kid].

Next: Pintada Kid, Part 2: Origin of The Pintada Kid's name; and some things you didn't know about rattlesnakes.

******

Note: All quotes used with permission.

A Palpable Silence: La Cueva

Looking toward the Organ Mountains from the Rio Grande

The Organ Mountains hang over Las Cruces like the backdrop for an old cowboy movie. You can drive up to the Dripping Springs Natural Area to experience the mountains close up.

On our first trip there we were drawn by the sound of water, as one always is in the desert, into a small display garden of native species outside the Visitor Center. I located the source of the water, a tiny fountain and, as I leaned closer to look at it, noticed a small sign. It informed me that just as I was drawn to the trickling sound of water so were other inhabitants of the desert, including snakes and lizards, and that I should watch my step on my way out of the garden.

This was just our first introduction to the animal population of this seemingly empty place. There are several miles of trails, and the center has extensive lists of animal sightings that are reported to the ranger there. According to New Mexico Wildlife publication: "Because of water which finds it way to the surface there year-round, Dripping Springs is a desert oasis where unique biotic communities thrive. Any time of year, visitors enjoy excellent viewing of red-tailed hawks and Gambel's quail. There's also a good chance of spotting desert mule deer, coyotes, and rock squirrels. In spring and summer, watch for golden eagles and prairie falcons which occasionally soar overhead. Along the hiking trails, look for black-chinned sparrows, Scott's orioles, canyon wrens, Red-naped sapsuckers, and collared lizards. There are also occasional sightings of mountain lions, of which this area has a viable population. Dripping Springs is also home to a race of the Colorado chipmunk and two threatened species of land snails." We saw an amazing variety of brightly colored lizards and a tarantula's burrow by the side of the trail.

Our destination was La Cueva, a large cave that has been associated with the prehistoric Mogollon culture. It is thought to have been occupied from around 5000 B.C. and has yielded thousands of artifacts. The Apaches used it for a shelter in the 18th and 19th centuries. In the late 1860s, it served as a home to El Ermitano (the hermit), an Italian of noble descent called Giovanni Maria Agostini.

Agostini had perhaps studied for the priesthood in Italy. He spent some time with the Penitentes of Northern New Mexico, who were impressed by his healing powers. He decided to go to La Cueva to live alone and to meditate, a plan that worried friends he had made in Old Mesilla. He and his friends worked out an arrangement to set their minds at ease. Every Friday night he would kindle a fire in front of the cave that they would be able to see from Mesilla, and they would thus be assured of his continuing safety. One Friday evening in 1869, as the story goes, the fire did not appear. When the friends had made their way up to La Cueva, they found El Ermitano dead--face down on the ground with a knife in his back. His murder was never solved.

In spite of its long history, La Cueva is another of those empty New Mexico places with a palpable silence. It's a place to stop in, to be still, and to meditate.