Kitabı oku: «The Pinos Altos Story», sayfa 2

Mr. Robert K. Bell, as a boy, lived at the Ancheta Ranch, (the Ward Lodge in Little Cherry) and he told the story of the original stone house. Sr. Ancheta had taken up land near the Twin Sisters and had a goat ranch. This land is said to be the first land patented in Grant County. Ancheta went to Mexico for a visit and was a guest at an hacienda where he fell in love with the wife of his host. He persuaded her to run away with him and come to Pinos Altos. The house was built for her. The port holes were designed to keep off the pursuing husband and relatives as well as the Indians.

There was no formal organization, nor survey made of the camp until 1867. Anson Mills, later a prominent figure in the history of El Paso, was sent by a member of the famous Maverick family to make a mineral survey and report of this district. Evidently Mills’ report was not satisfactory to Mr. Maverick for he took no further interest in this section but Mills stayed. The residents felt that to make their rights to improvements secure they should take legal action so a Pinos Altos Town Company was organized. It had hired Mills to survey and plot the town conforming to government survey lines. According to the file in the county courthouse, transferred to Grant from Dona Ana, “streets had been laid off and graded, four bridges built over Bear Creek, and some wells sunk”. The file also states that “The first settlement had been made in 1860. In 1868 it had 600 to 700 inhabitants, 120 houses, two stamp mills, a number of arrastras, three furnaces for smelting silver, two hotels, and several mercantile establishments.” Incidentally, there were seven saloons, but instead of being listed separately they may have been classed as “mercantile” establishments. “The town embraced 320 acres, twenty miles from the Gila River and 110 from the Rio Grande by the nearest traveled road.” The town company was incorporated and the deed signed by “Samuel J. Jones, vice president, acting for persons” and dated July 3, 1868. Grant County was formed from Dona Ana that same year and Pinos Altos was made the county seat, 1869-1871. The county’s first court house is now owned by Mrs. Mabel Eckerd of Lordsburg. Only one term of court was held, presided over by Judge H. B. Johnson. It has been described as “the gayest and loudest ever held in the Rocky Mountain region.” A band furnished music, refreshments were handy, and two condemned men were taken out and hanged from the same tree where Dan Diamond met his fate.

Trolius Stephens brought his wife overland by mule train from Nebraska in 1873. She was the first, and for several years, the only American woman in town, excepting Miss Parker who had been here eleven years before. They were the grandparents of Cecil Stephens of Arenas Valley. Both Mr. and Mrs. Stephens were interested in welfare of the people, they visited the sick, cared for the injured, and saw to it that no family was cold or hungry. He contended that a man was worth but $1.25 a day from the neck down but that there was no limit to his worth from the neck up. He paid accordingly. He could not or would not tolerate stealing. On one occasion when he noticed that wood was disappearing from the town’s large wood yard, and the man in charge of it said that he did not know how, when, or by whom, Mr. Stephens said he would “fix the guy.” He bored holes in several sticks of wood and put in dynamite. Before sunrise the next morning a mighty blast shook the town. Mr. Stephens rushed out and saw a roof rising into the brightening sky and above were several black disks, the lids from the kitchen stove—in the home of his cousin.

Fuel for homes and mills was juniper and oak wood cut in the hills into cord lengths and packed into town by burros. Ore from the mines was taken to the mills in the same manner. Often there were as many as twenty burros to a train. The trails they used still stand out on the mountain sides, as do the old roads from the saw mills, where the logs were hauled out by oxen. Among the names of men who operated early sawmills are Ripley, Scott, McMillan, Brownell and Franey, who came in ’81 or ’82. He was joined in 1902 by his nephew, Thomas Foy, a rosy cheeked boy fresh from old Ireland. Later there were Davidson, Slack, Leonard, Mason and others.

From the earliest days when both Mexicans and Americans traveled through the country they would camp at the springs the Mexicans had called Cienega de San Vicente. Miners from Pinos Altos tried raising corn and beans there, but being loathe to leave their diggings to care for the crops, Indians or animals destroyed them. Captain A. J. Hulburt, more daring and persistent than other miners, built a cabin and took his Mexican wife there to live during the growing season. He would ride to and from his mine, the “Texas” on the western slope of the mountain, a distance of seven miles. One day he left his rifle at the cabin with his wife and son and went out to plow his field. Looking up he saw Apaches between himself and the house. Knowing he could not rescue his family he ran to the mines, hoping his wife would be able to stand off the marauders until he could get help. Almost exhausted he gasped out his story. The men grabbed their guns, mounted their animals and hurried to the cabin, only to find it smouldering, the wife and son dead, and the Indians gone.

When this place was selected as a town site in 1872 and was named “Silver City”, Dick Hudson remarked, “That’s a hell of a name to give a town on a mud flat.” Later he wrote, “The only rival the Tall Pine City is ever destined to have sprang into existence as if by magic”. He was wrong in his use of the word “only”. A quarter of a century later a writer in The Enterprise referred to Pinos Altos as “an abandoned camp in Silver City’s back yard”. He, too, used one wrong word—“abandoned”. The opening of mines to the south and west drew many miners away and more adventurers were attracted to this district. Many of these men wanted to get rich quick and engaged in illicit mining deals. The result was that many claims were not being worked. The newcomers were more inclined to gamble than to use a pick and shovel. It was helpful to have a nearer source of supplies but the cost was just as great and business declined. In those days ox teams would leave Pinos Altos in midmorning and camp at the Half-Way Rock for the night. Early the next morning they would proceed to Silver City where the wagons were loaded, then they came back to the Half-Way camp and on to Pinos Altos the third day. Once a band of Apaches attacked but were unsuccessful. Another time they swooped down on the stage between the old Brent Ranch and Pinon Hill, wounding the driver and killing one mule. “Chinamen” were among the passengers and they put up such a good fight that the Indians rode off. Old “One-Armed-Juan” Esquejeda told of having goats taken from his place almost in the center of town and about the same time Willie Fletcher and some of his pals went swimming in a pool formed by a dam in Arroya Rico. Their scattered clothing was left on a bank. A group of young braves came down the gulch and stood watching the splashing boys. They gathered up the clothing and departed. The boys waited until dark before slipping home. Some time during the ’70’s Silvario Gutierrez returned to his family after having been a captive of the Apaches for seven years. His family had given him up for dead and although he had been very small when captured he, fortunately, remembered his “pet” name. He was the grandfather of Manuel Gutierrez of Santa Rita and of Virginia Terrazas and Nora Garcia.

Placer mining no longer yielded such rich returns. Many placer and lode claims were abandoned, and except for gambling and dance hall brawls things were considered quiet during the ’70’s.

80’s And 90’s

The next two decades were of increasing prosperity, thanks to the efforts of Trolius Stephens and Nathaniel Bell. Not only was there greater mining activity but new businesses were opened. The Ancheta Trading Post had been bought by Bell and Stephens and enlarged into a general merchandise store which handled everything from hair pins to machinery. They subsidized a drug store, a barber shop, and a meat market which had its own slaughter house. Other merchants opened clothing stores—general and “for men only.” The town boasted a band, a baseball team, and a Turkish Bath. Two new hotels were built—The Palmer House and the Pacific. New and larger homes were erected, more orchards planted. Trees, many of them maples, were planted along the streets. Because animals roamed into town, each tree was enclosed to the height of five or six feet. More saloons and gambling halls were added until they numbered fourteen. There was no “red light” district but “fancy ladies” came up from Silver City every pay day and two houses were their headquarters. Whenever a Mexican family could serve enchiladas a lantern would be hung outside. Mrs. Handy’s lantern would be out every Saturday night. Her enchiladas were considered the best made any where and her Arbuckle coffee was ambrosia.

So great was the influx of new arrivals during the ’80’s and ’90’s that two stages—and sometimes more, made regular round trips to Silver City to carry passengers and mail.

Chinese had been among the early settlers and they lived in dug-outs along the gulches. They foresaw that cooking for the miners and washing for them would be more profitable than placering so they discarded their gold pans for dish pans and wash tubs. Many stayed for years operating eating houses, laundries, and hop joints. See Hop was a general favorite. He loved children and was always ready to “baby-sit”. No baby was born but See Hop went to see it, bearing a gift. On the Chinese New Year he would distribute Chinese candy and lichee nuts to the children and Chinese lily bulbs to the mothers. He had a wife and children in China and his ambition was to make a fortune and return to them. He lost his first savings in the failure of a Silver City bank so would not trust his money to a bank again. He hid it in his house and was robbed. Later, in Santa Rita, trusting neither house nor bank, he buried it and a flood washed it away. Again he started saving and when he had enough for passage he went home to China—an old man. While he was in Pinos Altos he decided that he would like to give up his laundry and go into the chicken business. W. E. Watson bought the chickens to start him. All went well for a time then the chickens began to die. Nothing he did changed the situation. Papers with Chinese characters on them were posted on all gates and doors. The chickens continued to die. A Mexican came by and asked about the papers. See Hop told him they were notices to the evil spirits. The visitor laughed and told him to put crosses on every high point where they could be seen because the devils here could not read Chinese. Still, no desired results. In despair See Hop went to the one who had bought the stock in the first place and said, “You write letters to the bad spirits in English. Say they belong to Billy Watson. They do not know Chinese and they do not understand crosses. You tell them.”

With so many animals needed for power and transportation corrals were built at the edge of town. “Bob” wire had not come into use but there was plenty of bailing wire—“one of the two good things,” the Indians said, “that the White Man brought into the country.” Juniper posts in an upright position were set into the ground as closely as possible and wired together at the top. There were miles of such fences to enclose the oxen and burro trains. There were livery stables, carpentry shops, planing mills, dance halls, and from the very beginning, the necessary blacksmith shops. “The Pinos Altos Miner” made its appearance on July 11, 1888, with Mr. John C. Bayne (grandfather of Clarence Bayne of Silver City) as editor. Mr. Bayne had been attracted by reports of the mining activity and came expecting to mine, but having been a newspaper man he could not resist the appeal for a local paper. It was published for several years. Later “The Pinos Altos,” a strictly local and mining journal, of which Galloway and Warner were the proprietors, was published.

Mr. George D. Lincoln left Silver City to open a law office in Pinos Altos. One of his clients was a man known only as “Adobe Bill”. He had a Mexican wife and several children. Being unable to pay the lawyer’s fee in gold or cash, he gave his two sons to Mr. Lincoln who refused to accept them as payment. One day the sheriff came looking for “Dobe Bill”, and everyone thought the law had caught up with the man, but it turned out that he was William Ferris and he had inherited a large sum of money. “Dobe” sweated years of accumulated grime out in a Turkish bath, had a shave and a hair-cut, bought himself the loudest suit to be obtained, deserted his family, and departed.

Many nationalities were represented, and until the ’80’s they mingled freely. When Bell and Stephens advertised for “hard rock” miners, a Cornishman told Mr. Stephens he knew a good man, his “Cousin Jack in the Old Country”. “Send for him,” Mr. Stephens said. Cousin Jack came and he had a “Cousin Jack.” Soon the “Cousin Jacks” were flocking in. It was natural that they should get together. They built their homes up the hill to the southwest of town—seven or eight houses clustered about a large rooming and boarding house run by Mr. and Mrs. Noah Climo. People down town referred to it as “Cornishtown”. The Italians formed their group and selected a site to the west. It was known as Italian Town. The newer Mexicans were allowed to build only on the outskirts. They choose the Continental Divide and the ridge to the east of town where they had hand-ball courts and cock pits. No longer did the groups meet socially. The Mexicans had their bailes and fiestas, from which, unless he was there by special invitation, a “white man” was thrown out. The American group included all not Spanish-speaking. They had their balls in the new hotels, whist and sewing clubs, dramatic society, and lodges. Saturday night was “sluff” night at many saloons, and men who did not frequent saloons at other times enjoyed their weekly games. There were horseback rides, taffy pulls, tea parties, and picnics. Ladies of long residence, dressed in their best, raised their parasols and called on newcomers. Life, if not exciting by today’s standards, was very pleasant. On summer evenings parents sat rocking contentedly on the front porches with their daughters wistfully sitting on the steps listening to calls of “Lie low” and “Run, Sheep, Run” from the boys in all parts of town. In the winter they sat around sheet iron stoves, mending or reading, while the children did their home work around the dining room table.

Nathaniel Bell went to Wisconsin and married the girl he had left there years before. Red-haired Sue Bell was a welcomed addition to the town. She was friendly and had a knack of starting things and seeing them through—the first community Christmas tree, for example. Mr. Bell had lost a considerable sum in the first bank failure, and although he was distrustful, he deposited money in the second bank. When it, too, closed its doors, Mrs. Bell said, “The money is yours. Go and get it for I’m sure the bank president has it in his home. I’ll be standing by.” Bell went and was told by the wife that the president was ill and could see no one. Bell said, “I have come to see him and to get my money. Either he comes out or I go in.” The bank president came out, took one look at big Nat Bell, went to a wall safe and took out $10,000. Bell and Stephens were the only operators that met their payroll that month. But he was through with local banks. Thereafter he buried his money, keeping a record on the jamb of a pantry door. One day the storekeeper saw a Mexican, who was digging around the fruit trees in the yard, lean over and pick up something. He looked around, dropped his hoe and took off. The storekeeper leaped over the counter, called to a clerk that he was leaving, and sprinted after the man, overtaking him in an alley. The Mexican handed over his find—a large tomato can that had been opened with a butcher knife and the points pushed together again. It was filled with coins and a sticky mass, indicating that it had been in the ground through many storms. With a warm iron and blotting paper, Mrs. Bell was able to distinguish green backs. She sent the mass to Washington and received more than two thousand dollars in new bills. Mr. Bell had made no record but he was able to recall the circumstances. The day he collected the money no one was home, he could find no other can, so he buried it hurriedly, thinking he would find a better container, then had been called away. The incident made him think that perhaps he had failed to record other deposits so Mrs. Bell superintended the digging up of the entire place. Two more cans were found but of the baking powder variety. That started everyone digging for buried treasure and some was found.

George H. Utter, before he engaged in mining, sold Singer Sewing Machines. He drove about the county in a buckboard with a machine for demonstrations tied behind the seat. He came to a Mexican ranch on Whiskey Creek just east of Rocky Point the day after the rancher had found a can of gold. He had invited several of his friends to help him celebrate and they were making merry when Mr. Utter drove up. The women “Ohed and Ahed” over the latest model. The man showed the gold to Utter and ordered a new machine for every woman present.

Edward Dehaney was a very likeable young man but described as “not worth $1.25 from the neck down.” His worth was from the neck up as he proved later in his career. While he was in Pinos Altos he was practically penniless but full of schemes. The Bells took him into their home and boarded him for several months with the understanding that he pay when he could. Mrs. Bell knew he was receiving money but he never paid a cent and left town without doing so. Mrs. Bell collected years later. When she visited him in his pretentious offices in California and presented her bill he said, “But, Mrs. Bell, this is outlawed—and you, being a lady, would not presume to collect an outlawed bill.” Mrs. Bell replied, “I know the bill is outlawed, but you, being a gentleman, will surely honor it.” His check went to a home for old miners.

When the first son was born to the Bells he was given the family name of “Golden” and his father had a bell made of local gold which Golden wore on a chain around his neck until he reached school age. A gold brick from a run of the mill was kept on a counter in the store. The early miners used gold as a medium of exchange as long as they lived. It was usually carried in a small Bromo Seltzer bottle in a pocket and a man could estimate accurately the amount for his daily needs. As he grew older, if he needed 60 cents for coffee and tobacco he washed out that amount, if he needed $4.50 for overalls, blouse, flour, sugar and meat, he panned that amount, then sat in the sun. Goods were no longer paid for by the “finger” for the gold was carefully weighed. Should the amount of gold be a little more than the bill, candy would be taken home for the children. If it fell short a tab was made and dropped into the till. Rarely was it necessary, and always when the man came back to make another purchase, he would have extra gold so the tab against him could be destroyed. In those days there were no pennies and very few dollar bills in circulation. All costs were figured in multiples of five and reduction in price was given if items were bought in quantity. Men who worked for wages settled accounts on pay day and went home with a generous sack of candy. Store hours were from seven to seven. Usually there was a dull period in the afternoons which the clerks used to put up beans, rice, and sugar, etc., in 25c and 50c amounts, folding and tying the sacks for the evening rush. Saturday was clean-up night when the delivery boys, clerks, and handy men would take off their shoes and socks, roll up their pantaloons, and with brooms, mops and buckets of hot soapy water, scrub counters and floors. The Bell and Stephens store was the largest but it was a company store. Smaller companies and independent operators wanted other stores. Neffe had a store at the corner of Main Street and Gold Avenue—later the F. J. Davidson store. Men who worked at the Mountain Key and at the Golden Giant traded there, and later the Mammoth people. The building which housed George Norton’s store is still standing, south of the Buckhorn Bar. Both buildings are relics of the ’70’s.